Page 47 of The Souls We Claim

I shake my head. “I’m not sending you anywhere. But you were good enough fun that I’m telling you the truth. You’re worth more than all this.”

“But not enough for you?”

I shake my head. “Good night, Pen.”

I light a cigarette and head out into the lot. It’s not like me to be shaken, but it’s time to admit Arianne has crawled under my skin. A weakness ignored can be fatal, I know this. But the right person can come along at the absolute wrong time.

My phone vibrates, and even as I hope it’s King with some job for me to do, I know it isn’t. It’s time to go home.

Unknown:How does it feel to know everything you hold dear is to be erased?

It’s him. The one responsible for my father’s death. I can feel it in my bones. I think of the way Dad struggled in those last few seconds. The look of wide-eyed fear. The loss bites at me.

Me:Fuck off. Contact me when you have the balls to face me man to man.

There’s a moment where three little dots bounce at the bottom of the screen.

Me:All you’ve got are empty threats.

The three dots bounce again.

My phone rings, and Vex’s name pops up on my screen. I swipe to ignore it. I’ll be calling him soon enough once this exchange is over.

Me:This is getting boring.

My phone rings again. This time it’s King.Fuck. Why does everyone suddenly want me at three in the morning?

Unknown:Does this look like an empty threat?

I’m just about to swipe off the texts to answer my president when the image comes through. Flames creep around the side of my dad’s house.

“Motherfucker,” I curse as I storm to my bike.

This time when King calls me, I answer.

“Wrinkle’s place is on fire,” he says. “Vex called the fire service.”

“It’s Collins. He just messaged. I’m on my way over.”

“We’ll meet you there. Arianne and Lola aren’t there, are they?”

“No. They’re at my place. See you in ten.”

I jump on my bike, praying for empty roads and no cops. I make it in six.

Saint and Spark, who live nearby, are already off their bikes when I get there, even as the wail of sirens travels closer.

“Fuck me,” I mutter. Thoughts of Collins escape me for a moment. I only have vague memories of Mom, who gave up onDad and his whoring ways when I was younger. But the ones I do have revolve around her trying to make this a home for us. Trying to give me a happy place to come back to after school.

Dad never abused her, but he didn’t love her either. She was more house mouse than old lady. He’d hide away in his man-cave office when he was home.

Which reminds me, all of dad’s papers are in there. His laptop. The office at the end of the house doesn’t seem to be affected by the flames that cover two thirds of the building.

“Quick. I need Dad’s papers and laptop and shit,” I shout to my brothers.

They follow me to the large window as I look around for something to break the glass. An ugly gray planter, cracked in a frigid winter many years ago, sits beneath the window.

“Spark.” I get his attention from the flames. “We’re throwing it through the window.”