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“Gramps!” I shouted as I launched off the couch. “I left you messages. I tried to let you know ahead of time that Agent Dawson was here.”

“Did ya mention you were sleeping on the couch with him? Because when I come home and find a man I don’t recognize in the dark with my granddaughter, I’m gonna have some strong feelins about it.” He turned a stone cold face to Dawson, who’d risen to join me. “Now you get to tellin’ me what yer doin’ here.”

“I had reason to believe Kylene was in imminent danger, so I came down right away with the intention of securing her safety until the threat is dealt with.” He left out the little nugget that the threat might just be the guy we’d been buying pizza from for as long as I could remember. “Special Agent in Charge Wilson signed off on this.”

“Well, last time I checked, he’s not in charge of my home, so someone should have okay’d it with me first.”

“We should have, sir, but her safety was my top priority at the time, so I overlooked that step.”

“Once everything died down,” I added, hoping to calm Gramps down before he had another heart attack, “calling you was his first thought.”

Gramps’ expression softened a bit and he took a deep breath. “What happened that brought ya runnin’ to check on her?” Dawson gave Gramps the generic bullet points about the dead mobsters, doing his best to leave out anything that might upset him any more than necessary; a strategy for which I was deeply grateful. “So yer sayin’ that ya think someone might come after her next?”

“I do. There’s an undeniable pattern forming, and I don’t like the possible implications.”

“You sound just like her father,” Gramps said, shaking his head, “and that man is slyer than a fox. So tell me, Agent Dawson, what’s the next step?”

“We have two options, really. The first is that I post up here as a protective detail and accompany her whenever she leaves the house. I’d live here until the matter is resolved. If it isn’t—or if it escalates—the next step would be to move her to a secure safe house until her welfare is no longer in question.”

I wrapped my arms around Gramps’ waist and held on to him for dear life. “I don’t want to have to leave.”

Dawson, who’d been all federal agent from the moment Gramps returned, looked at me clutching my grandfather like the lifeline he was and dropped any shred of that stoic facade. “And you don’t have to…for now.”

“So you’d be living here? In my house?”

“Yes, sir. And the Bureau would compensate you for expenses incurred.”

“I ain’t worried about the money…I just feel bad that I don't have a proper room for ya.”

Dawson smiled in the charming way he had the first time I met him. “I seem to be able to sleep on the couch just fine. But I will need to make some small changes to secure the building. And the shades will need to be drawn at all times as a precaution.”

“All right. That seems reasonable enough. I want my girl to be safe.” He hugged me a little tighter into his side.

“I do too, sir. That’s why I’m here.”

“I’m pretty sure Dawson is safety-obsessed enough to put himself between me and harm, so I should be good.”

“How’s about we just avoid harm altogether so he doesn't have to?” I laughed nervously at Gramps’ words, but his serious expression never wavered. “Now, it’s been quite a day for me, so if you two don’t mind, I’m gonna get cleaned up, then hit the hay.”

Gramps turned to go, and I quickly kissed his cheek. “Get some rest, Gramps…I love you.”

I tried not to choke on those final words and almost pulled it off. Almost . But my emotions got the best of me, and when he looked down at me with bleary eyes, I knew they’d gotten the best of him, too. It was killing him that he wasn’t able to keep me safe—or that anyone had to at all.

“I love ya, too, Junebug. I’ll see you in the mornin’. And make sure ya find everything Agent Dawson needs before ya go to bed.”

“Everything?” I asked in a playful tone. “I’m pretty sure I can track down some blankets and a pillow, but I think we might be all out of sunny dispositions.”

Gramps smiled at me before heading down the hall. “If we had those, baby girl, I’d have given one to ya a long time ago.”

* * *

I woke up late and began my panicked morning routine, running around my cramped room like a feral animal. By the time I found something clean enough to wear, I had ten minutes to make myself presentable and eat. I tore down the hall as I pulled on my hoodie to the sound of Dawson and Gramps laughing. My head popped through the neck hole as I entered the kitchen to find the two casually eating breakfast together like it was Sunday brunch.

Dawson’s charm had claimed yet another victim.

“Cuttin’ it close this mornin’,” Gramps said as he reached behind him to grab a plate of food from the counter. “Better get to eatin’ while ya still can.”

I grabbed a piece of toast off the plate and balanced it in my mouth while I pulled my hair into a ponytail. “ Phanks ,” I mumbled before taking an actual bite. “I’m gonna have to throw it in a container, though. We have to run as soon as I brush my teeth.”

“You run and do that. I’ll get yer breakfast sorted.”

Gramps pushed away from the table, but Dawson was on his feet with my plate in his hand before the old man had the chance to stand. “I’ll get it. Thanks again for breakfast. It was delicious.”

“Yer welcome, Agent Dawson. Thanks for keepin’ an eye on my girl.”

I groaned inwardly at the reality I’d awakened to as I made my way to the bathroom. This was my life for the foreseeable future, and there was no way it was going to get easier once we set foot in JHS. What seemed like an eternity ago, he’d been undercover there as my ex-turned-boyfriend, and even though the truth of who he actually was came out not long after, I had no doubt confusion would follow his reappearance—even more than him bursting into my class the day before had already caused. The whispers would trail me through the halls like a bad memory once again, and I was not excited.

And then there was the small matter of why his presence was required.

I liked that even less.

When I made my way back down the hall, I found Dawson standing by the front door, my breakfast in hand, ready to go. I tried not to pay attention to his sidearm as I slipped on my shoes and jacket.

“Love you, Gramps. I’ll see you later?”

“Lord willin’.” He smiled and kissed my cheek, then turned his attention to Dawson. “If anyone comes after her, shoot first and let Jesus sort out the rest, understood?”

Dawson smiled with a dark sense of amusement. “Understood.”

“Good. Then you two best be on yer way.”

Given that we had about ten minutes until the first bell and it took eight minutes to get there, he was right.

We hurried to Dawson’s fancy car and climbed in. “How late are we?” he asked as he buckled in. “I can’t remember the schedule.”

“It’s a full lights-and-sirens situation.”

“I’m not really equipped with those, Danners,” he replied as he pulled into the road.

“You got a gas pedal, dontcha?” I asked with a fair amount of incredulity. “Try hitting it.”

To Dawson’s credit, he did speed a little, and I made it up to the third floor just before the bell rang. “I’ve got to go talk with Principal Thompson,” he said in the doorway. “Wilson was supposed to explain the situation, but I need to check in.”

“And apologize for your antics yesterday?” I asked as he started to walk away.

He looked over his shoulder without an ounce of remorse in those piercing eyes and laughed. “Absolutely not. I’ll be waiting outside your class when it’s time to switch.”

The bell rang, and I ran to my seat in the back to find Garrett staring at me. “Why is Agent Dawson here? And what the hell happened to you yesterday?”

Mr. Callahan began writing some law of physics I didn’t care about on the whiteboard, and I leaned in closer to Garrett while his back was to us. “He’s doing protection detail. Another mobster who was going to flip on his boss and the AD was killed. The feds are worried they might come for me, so they’re taking extra precautions.”

“ Fuck. ”

“Basically, yes.”

“So he’s just going to be with you all the time now?”

I nodded. “All. The. Time. Which reminds me: can you drive my car home for me? There’s no way Dawson is going to let me follow him in it again, especially after how well that went the last time.”

“Yeah, sure thing. Just give me your car key.” I quietly slipped the old-school key off the ring and dropped it in his hand.

Garrett looked at me, brow furrowed as he opened his mouth to ask another question. But Callahan turned his attention back to the class, cutting it off at the knees, and it kept the interrogation at bay all through class. But I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. The day was gonna be interesting, for sure.

* * *

Tabby had a doctor’s appointment that morning, which gave me a small reprieve from whispered questions about Dawson during second and third periods, but at lunchtime, the lanky ginger made her way into the cafeteria along with Mark and Garrett. The moment they’d paid for their food, the three of them approached our table and surrounded us.

And the interrogation ensued.

Dawson did his best to answer their questions, but even he was starting to look frazzled by their relentlessness. Ten minutes in, his phone started buzzing and he excused himself, leaving me to fend for myself.

Dick .

“Do you really think the AD might come for you here?” Tabby asked with wide eyes.

Not if he’s Marco and on the run… But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use someone else to do his dirty work. Seemed like the AD and Vollero had that in common.

I shrugged. “No clue.”

“And they still don’t have any leads?”

I thought about Marco and debated sharing that tidbit, then decided against it. For now. “Nope. None. Unless that’s what Dawson is discussing on the phone right now.”

Her frown said it all. “Maybe we just need to think everything through again. Surely we’ve missed something in all the chaos.”

“I’m sure we’ve missed a lot, but nothing that seems readily helpful.”

“There’s something I can’t quite wrap my head around. It’s bothered me from the beginning. Why does this guy have ties here in Jasperville? I mean, first there was that lawyer guy, right? Didn’t he say something to you about the AD?”

“He did…right before he tried to kill me. So did Mr. Matthew,” I said, thinking over those dark moments. “He said the AD contacted him after he killed Sarah Woodley—he used that to leverage him into running the sex trafficking ring.”

“Exactly! That’s my point. Why is this powerful psycho connected to so many people in this tiny town? It has to be someone from around here—”

“Who happens to have mob ties,” Garrett added.

“Right,” she said, brow furrowed with concentration, “because that Manny guy definitely said he knew the AD.”

“He also said I knew him, too,” I said with a sigh, knowing the chaos my comment would cause. “I forgot about that until last night.”

“Jesus, Ky—how could you forget that?”

“Trauma. That’s how.”

“But it still doesn’t make any sense,” Mark argued. “Someone that powerful would stick out like a sore thumb here.”

“Maybe he’s not here anymore,” Garrett countered. “Maybe he’s just from here originally.”

“Or close by,” Tabby added. “All these small towns seem to run together down here.”

“True.”

“Or maybe they just hide it well,” I said as I stared off in the distance to where Dawson stood in the corner, talking on the phone. His eyes locked on mine and he waved me over. “I’ll be right back.”

I was on my feet hurrying to join Dawson before they could even ask what was going on. As soon as I was at his side, he ushered me through the double doors to the hallway beyond and into an empty classroom.

“I’m putting you on speaker, Dean. Kylene is here with me now.”

“Good,” Agent Franklin replied. “She needs to hear this.”

“Hear what?”

“Dean was able to get into Marco’s WITSEC information.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor. “Is he—”

“He’s not Vollero,” Dean said, finishing my thought. “His real name is Sal Bellucci. He was Vollero’s muscle and pretty high up in the organization.”

“Interesting,” I said, mulling over what Marco—or Sal—had said the last time I saw him. “He claimed otherwise when I was pumping him for information.”

“I’m sure he did, but he was high enough to nearly bring down the whole family when he turned on them.”

“What was he arrested for when he was brought in?” I asked.

Dean hesitated for a moment. “Murder.”

I swallowed that truth down hard. It was one thing to create a narrative about a person, but quite another to have it substantiated by the FBI. The rumors we’d long told each other as kids about Marco were true, which made me wonder just what else was true about him.

Like if he was indeed the AD.

“He had other talents as well,” Dean continued. “He was deeply ingrained in their racketeering operations, as well as the sale of illegal firearms. Some drug running and gambling.”

“Sex trafficking, too?” Dawson asked while I stood there, too stunned to really say anything. His hand fell gently on the small of my back.

“No. Per his testimony, he didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“So what now?” I asked. “How does any of this help us?”

“Well, for starters, once he’s found, he’ll be brought in and questioned about his ties to organized crime. If what Dawson’s told me is true, then he’s in breach of WITSEC protocols and in jeopardy of being ejected from the program.”

“Maybe he already knows that, and that’s why he’s on the run.”

“Possibly, but we got a hit on his plate around Morgantown, West Virginia, which makes it look like he could be headed back east.”

“Wouldn’t that be a death sentence? I mean, if he ratted on half the family, surely that’s the last place he’d go.”

“Or maybe something else is going on altogether,” Dawson said. I looked up to practically see the wheels in his mind turning as he stared out the window. “Maybe his testimony accomplished exactly what he wanted at the time.”

“Take out the right players to leave you in charge?” Franklin’s question was more musing than anything, but it was valid nonetheless.

“Except he didn’t get the boss,” I pointed out.

“Maybe that’s what he’s going back for. Maybe it’s time.”

“But he said that Vollero was a ghost…that nobody would ever find him.”

“Maybe he knows something nobody else does,” Franklin countered. Another fair point. “I’ve got a few of my guys on it, and Special Agent Wilson dispatched a couple more to help. We’re going to get him, Kylene. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Who’d he send?” Dawson asked.

“Agents Maclean and Jamieson.”

I groaned audibly at his response, and Dawson’s lips pressed to a thin line. “Maclean is clean, but keep an eye on Jamieson. I don’t like him.”

“Noted. I should go now. I’m being flagged into a meeting about this. I’ll be in touch.” The line went dead, and I really started to wonder if they taught hanging up without saying goodbye at Quantico.

“This is good news, Danners. It won’t be long before they find him. They’ll have every cop between the coast and West Virginia looking for him now.”

“Yeah…”

My unenthusiastic response garnered his attention. “This could be huge. Why do you sound so defeated?”

“It’s just…I thought I’d read him right. I’d suspected he had mob ties and a history, but he told me he liked my dad. And he stuck up for me once—tried to get me to back off before I got killed. But it’s more than that,” I said, thinking of all the dates and family pizza nights and post-game takeovers we’d spent at Marco’s. They were good memories—innocent memories—and what Agent Franklin had said was messing with those, too. “Marco’s Pizza was a staple of the community. Was I that easily duped?” I looked up at him to find narrowed eyes staring back. “Were we all?”

“Bellucci is a hardened criminal who might have fooled the feds that arrested him and the Marshals that put him under protection. I don’t think you should beat yourself up about it.”

“It’s just—”

“I know you pride yourself on being able to read people—I do too—but nobody gets it right 100 percent of the time. Nobody .”

“I guess…”

“We should get back to the table so you can eat before the bell rings.”

He led the way out of the classroom and back to the cafeteria, where my friends sat awaiting our return.

“Good news?” Tabby asked, hope plain in her tone.

“Nothing concrete,” Dawson replied, “but a possible turn for the better in the case.”

“That’s great, Ky,” Garrett said.

And it was. So why didn’t it make me feel better?

I pushed my tray of uneaten food aside and rested my head on my folded arms. “Let’s talk about something else for a bit.”

As if I’d summoned the worst subject change ever, AJ burst through the cafeteria doors. The second he walked in, his eyes seemed to find me; then they fell on Dawson and narrowed with anger. Everyone else at the table turned to see what I was looking at, and an awkward silence came over us.

Dawson leaned in and whispered in my ear. “He looks like he’s glad to see me.”

AJ scowled before walking over to the food line to buy some chips, then disappeared out the exit on the opposite side of the room.

“He looked happy,” Mark said, breaking the quiet in true Mark fashion.

“That would be courtesy of me,” I replied with a sigh.

“I’m not so sure about that.” Dawson’s remark was met with a mix of curious and confused expressions from my friends. I steadied myself for yet another interrogation, but thankfully, an outburst from Tabby cut it off at the pass.

“Oh, Ky! I totally forgot about this until this morning, but isn’t the downtown tree lighting tomorrow?”

Shit . Another subject I’d rather have avoided. “Yep, it sure is. Thanks for that reminder, Tabs. Pretty sure I get the honor of flipping the switch. All part of my queenly duties. I guess I should figure out something nice to wear—”

“That's what I wanted to tell you. I already have an outfit for you. I’ll bring it to school tomorrow.”

“Um…thanks? But also, how ?”

“Oh, that’s easy. My mom loves to shop, so I delegated the task. It’s actually cute, too. She really nailed it.”

“The ginger is going to run the world one day,” Garrett said with a hint of genuine awe in his tone.

“Where is this tree lighting?” Dawson asked. “I need to work out the logistics before I decide if you can do it.”

I gave him the basic rundown and he was on his feet, walking off with phone in hand yet again.

“Is it wrong that I hope he says I can’t do it? I should probably tell him about the parade, too…get it all shut down in one phone call.”

“But you have to go,” Tabby said with a pout. “It’s literally your job.”

“Not if she’s putting herself in danger, it isn’t,” Garrett argued.

That truth had Tabby sighing hard. “You’re right. It’s just disappointing.”

“What’s disappointing is having to read another classic in English class,” I said, pulling out my copy of P&P and dropping it down on the table with a thud. Tabby scooped it up in a flash and clutched it to her chest.

“This is one of my favorites !” she exclaimed. “Oh my God, you have to watch the movie once you’re done reading the book—”

“Or instead of reading the book—”

“The hand flex scene…” she sighed, undaunted by my proposed slacking, “...it’s just everything .”

“What’s the hand flex scene and why does it have you swooning?”

“Oooooh, you’ll see,” she replied with a wink. “The movie’s worth watching for that moment alone.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The warning bell rang, and the four of us collected our stuff, ready to continue the monotony of our day like everything was normal. But as Dawson approached me, his determined swagger drawing the attention of every girl within a fifteen-foot radius, I knew it wasn’t.

And until we figured out who the AD was, it never would be.

* * *

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. The prospect of finding Marco and potentially shutting everything down should have had me high on life, but I was anything but. Maybe my body was too tired of the rollercoaster. Maybe my optimism had been stunted along the way, leaving little more than a jaded shell behind. Or maybe Marco getting caught just seemed too good to be true. Any way I sliced it, I just couldn't bring myself to celebrate yet.

All I wanted to do was go home and crash on the couch.

Dawson, sensing my general sense of over-it-allness, did what he did best: needled me when I was down. “You seem lively.”

I glared at him out of the corner of my eye as I rested my head back against the headrest of his passenger’s seat. “I’ll get lively on your face if you keep it up.”

“What does that even mean, Danners?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s a threat. That’s the important takeaway.”

“You don’t look like you could follow through on a threat right now if you tried.”

It was a fair point, but hell would freeze over before I admitted as much. “I think I just need something to eat.”

Avoiding eye contact, I rifled through my backpack, tossing books on the floor at my feet and into Dawson’s lap in search of a snack. I perked up a little when I found a granola bar at the bottom of the bag, and I threw my hands up in triumph. It was little more than sawdust, given how flattened the packaging was, but it was sustenance nonetheless.

I’d have to make a point to actually eat my lunch from now on to avoid eating the inedible again.

“ Pride and Prejudice , huh?” he asked as he turned the book over in his hands.

“You use those keen detective skills of yours to figure that out?” I asked around a mouthful of pummeled granola bar. He shot me a look that should have cowed me, but my blood sugar was way too low for that to work. “Have you read it?” He shook his head. “What about the movie? Have you seen that?”

“Which version?”

My features scrunched with confusion. “There’s more than one?”

“Yes, there is. I’ve seen the most recent.” My eyes went wide with surprise, and he shrugged. “My ex made me watch it with her.” Suddenly, I was sorry I’d asked. “Why?”

“Tabby was going on and on at lunch about some ‘hand flex’ thing. Honestly, her obsession with this seemed to border on unhinged, but it’s Tabby, so I choose to call it endearing instead.”

“Ah…she’s a hand flex enthusiast,” he said, as though that made any sense. “There’s a bit of a cult following for those two seconds of movie infamy.”

“Well then, Tabby might just be their leader, because that girl was having a moment about it.”

“She’s a romantic. It makes sense.”

“How is a hand flex romantic?” I asked, genuine confusion in my tone as he started the car. “The only time I flex my hand is to stop myself from clocking someone.”

“Shocking,” he said as pulled out of his parking spot. “Maybe you should just watch the movie and see for yourself.”

“When? In all my spare time? Between schoolwork, my queenly duties, and trying to stay alive while hunting a killer, I don’t have any.”

He quirked a brow at me. “Are you going to read the book?”

No . “Maybe. Why? Does the movie follow the storyline closely?”

“I couldn’t tell you, but if you’re not going to read it, surely watching the movie and some internet breakdowns could get you what you need to write your paper.”

“Agent Dawson,” I gasped, feigning shock, “are you suggesting I cheat ?”

“Not cheat ,” he countered. “ Outsource . Use your limited time wisely, since you don’t have any to spare.”

Though I never would have said it out loud, he made a solid argument. And I’d always been more of a movie-over-books girl anyway.

“I’ll consider it. Wait, does this mean I’m still doing the tree lighting tomorrow? Because that could be the perfect time to stay home and watch it.”

“Wilson gave the go-ahead, but he wants the sheriff’s department to do a sweep of the area and have deputies present during the event.”

Dammit . “Well, there goes that idea.”

“Aren’t you off on Friday? I thought I heard something in the hall about no school so students could attend the festival. Why can’t you do it then?”

“Ugh, I guess I can, because I certainly won’t be using that time to go to the festival like I’m supposed to, that’s for sure.”

“No, you most certainly will not.”

“Is now a bad time to mention the parade I have to do that evening? Perched atop a convertible, JFK-by-the-grassy-knoll style?”

Dawson groaned audibly at this revelation. “Yes. It is.”

I, however, just shrugged. “Well, I can’t put that cat back in the bag, so here we are.”

“I’m going to have to call Wilson and let him know when we get home. I’m pretty sure he won’t sign off on it.”

“I knew I liked him.”

Dawson stewed about the logistics of the parade the rest of the way home, and I practically launched myself from the vehicle before he came to a complete stop just to escape him. The sky was dark and overcast, making it seem later than it was, and a dim light Gramps must have forgotten to turn off before he left for work poured from the windows as I walked toward the front door. I was halfway up the porch when a shadow passed by the window in the door, and I stumbled back down the steps, panic racing through me as Dawson caught me around my waist.

“I saw something,” I whispered harshly as I turned to face him, fear permeating every cell of my body. “There’s someone inside.”