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Chapter Two

O ne minute Callan’s voice is crackling through the phone telling me to stay where I am, and the next it’s the sound of tires screeching, metal folding, and my world tipping sideways.

I don’t remember how I got there, just the taste of panic and my foot pressing the pedal to the floor. I vaguely remember calling someone, but when I saw Callan’s car in flames, I knew I had to act.

Screams tore from my lips that didn’t sound like my own as I fought the fire with the small extinguisher in my trunk.

His car was upside down, steam pouring from the hood, flames lapping the edges of the grass. His name tore from my throat as I ran barefoot across shattered glass, my lungs ripping open with each breath.

I tried so hard to crawl into the car with him. If he was going to die there, then I wanted to burn with him.But then I was pulled back, kicking violently.

Aidric held me in a way I wasn’t used to, not demanding or rude, but like a security blanket. Sebastian stood by my side as I took Callan’s hand one last time before they rushed him to the hospital. They both saw me cry, felt me break irrevocably, and they never left me.

Instead, we drove in silence all the way to the hospital and at one point someone gave me shoes and a hoodie.

It's now been two days.

I sit beside Callan’s bed, counting the rise and fall of his chest like it’s the only thing keeping the earth on its axis.

They said it was a miracle he survived, but I'm not sure that's true. Miracles are just another lie the world tells to make the living feel less guilty. Someone did this to Callan. I feel it in my soul. This wasn't a miracle, and it sure as hell isn't a coincidence.

The IV clicks with a steady drip, syncing with the slow beep of the heart monitor. I press my forehead to the back of his hand, my tears soaking into the bandages.

Lacing my fingers through his, I stare down at the wreck of him.

His face is a brutal canvas of bruises, his eyes swollen shut, lashes stuck together like broken threads.

A wicked gash runs from his jaw to the corner of his mouth, stitched tight where a shard of glass was pulled free.

Both arms are mummified in thick gauze, hiding the burns seared into his skin.

They were more superficial, but still need to be wrapped to prevent infection for now. The doctor told me if I hadn’t had that fire extinguisher then he would likely need full body skin grafts. Someone else said that Callan was lucky I was there for him, but they clearly know nothing.

Someone is after me, and because of that, they went after him too.

Sebastian says he’s still breathing and that’s all that matters. Even broken, he’s still fighting. Yet, I can’t help but feel like I didn’t do enough, that nothing ever would have been enough.

I swallow hard as I try not to replay the scene over and over in my head. Inhaling a shaky breath, I grit my teeth and force myself into the present. I can’t break now, not while Callan still hasn’t woken up.

"Aidric’s right," Sebastian says, voice quieter than usual. "You should get some rest."

"Not yet," I whisper. "They’re going to try and wake him today. I’m not leaving until he opens his eyes."

Aidric steps forward, eyeing me like I might break if he looks too hard. The sharp edges are still there, but the fire behind them has diminished. For the first time, I think he's actually worried.

"Then what?" he asks, voice rough. "You think if you’re here when he wakes up, it’ll fix this? You think staying is going to undo what happened?"

I clench my fists, the burns on my own hands wrapped up.

It hurts like hell, but that’s why I do it.

I deserve the pain. It’s centering and also reminds me that I'm stronger than any of them give me credit for. And I will not be talked down to like this. I won’t allow Aidric to make what Callan and I have into a small fleeting thing.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" I shout, turning on them. "I kept your damn secrets and I played by your twisted rules! I did exactly what the three of you asked of me, and look where that got us."

Gesturing around the room, I pin them both with a glare. "I tried it your way and look what happened. You can’t even promise one of your own people safety."

Aidric scrubs a hand down his face, jaw clenched. "You should’ve burned the damn box when we told you to."

"I didn’t tell anyone," I fire back, shaking my head as more tears try to fall. "Shove your accusations up your ass. You’re just pissed because your star player’s out for the season."

Aidric’s eyes flicker. "You think this is about hockey?" His voice is tight. "Callan’s not a fucking game piece, Avery. He is my god damned brother."

I scoff at him, exhausted and trembling from lack of food and sleep. "Then maybe you should’ve protected him better."

That hits harder than I expected, or wanted. Aidric's face falls in a way I didn’t know was possible for a statue like him, and I almost take it back. But then that sorrow he let shine briefly turns into rage, and I ready myself for a fight.

Sebastian steps in, calm but cold. "Enough. Not here. We need to be quiet or they'll kick us out."

I let out a bitter cackle. "Oh, you want me quiet now? So you two can go back to running this sick little society without anyone questioning it?"

"Don’t twist this, Avery," Sebastian says, tone low. "We’re trying to hold it together."

"Yeah?" I can’t help the humorless laugh that escapes me. "How’s that working out for you? Callan’s in a hospital bed because you all wanted to play king.

You wanted power, made deals and played your stupid little games.

And guess what? You got what you wanted.

But Callan, your brother, " I say using air quotes, "is the one who paid the price. "

I glance between the two of them, standing on shaky legs with the weight of it all. "Who’s next? You? Aidric? Or are you both too arrogant to think this can’t touch you?"

Aidric exhales sharply and shakes his head, like I’m not worth the fight right now.

I laugh again, a dry, cracked sound. "Fuck you both. Get out and leave me alone so I can clean up the mess you made."

Neither of them moves at first, but I hold my ground. When Sebastian meets my gaze, I know I’ve won this round. For a flicker of a second, there’s something almost like regret in his eyes.

"We’re not your enemies, Avery," he says softly. "Not today."

But I turn my back before I can believe that—before I can want to believe it.

The door creaks open and Mr. Cromwell steps inside wearing a tailored black suit and polished shoes, his cologne cutting through the sterile scent of antiseptic.

His eyes flick from Aidric to Sebastian, then finally land on me. There’s something almost gentle there.

"Avery," he says softly. "You’re still here."

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. Every time I see one of Callan’s family members, guilt claws a little deeper.

They don’t know.

They don’t know Callan is lying in that bed because of me. Because of a single call I can’t take back.

Aidric and Sebastian slip out, but Aidric's gaze brushes over me like a curse before he disappears.

Mr. Cromwell picks up the paper bag holding my lunch, the scent of stale fries leaking from the seams. "Have you eaten?"

I shake my head. "Not yet."

I don't tell him that the last time I ate was before Callan’s car flipped into a twisted wreck.

"I've arranged for a surgeon to fly in from New York," he says. "The best for Callan."

"I’m just glad he’s alive," I whisper, the words nearly breaking me in two.

When he first arrived, they couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t waking up. It wasn’t until yesterday they found a small brain bleed that caused pressure to build in his head, rendering him unconscious.

A surgeon here created a small hole in his skull to prevent further buildup of fluid and pressure, but with him still not awake, his father left early to make some calls and to get an hour of sleep.

The rest of the family has trickled in and out, but I think Brogan must have told them about us in some way or another because no one questioned me staying by his side.

A nurse comes in the room, updating Callan’s father and saying they sent his records to the surgeon coming today. After looking over his bandages and checking his fluids, the nurse makes her way out and I'm left staring at all the white sterile gauze that covers Callan’s body.

Even when his body heals, the scars will stay. He’ll always know it was my call that did this to him. I just hope he doesn’t spend a lifetime blaming me.

As for his future in hockey, he’ll fight like hell to get back in the game. I know him. Hockey is stitched into his soul.

"I didn’t realize you and my son were so close," Mr. Cromwell says.

"Me either," I murmur, voice cracking. "It just…happened."

He rests a warm, heavy hand on my shoulder. "He’s lucky to have you, Avery. Brogan too."

A beat of silence passes before he clears his throat. "I just don’t understand who would do this to my boy."

"He doesn’t deserve any of this," I say, my voice trembling.

"If you hear anything, bring it to me first. I don’t trust the cops in this town."

I nod, standing to go to the bathroom so I can splash a little water on my face.

If only he knew there’s someone out there who knows the truth, and if I don’t find them soon, I’m terrified Callan won’t be the last to fall.

A year ago I thought of myself as the quiet girl, the one who sat in the background and didn’t make too much noise. But I have a feeling I'm no longer the person who was afraid to chase after what she wanted while fighting to keep it.

This time I won’t be sitting by and following orders. In fact, I think it’s about time I pull out my tactical bow with the hundred yard scope.

Whoever messed with Callan is about to find out something very important about me. I never miss.