Page 68 of Hell and High Water

“Fucking stupid move, Hellena,” I growl, fidgeting with my hands.

Stop. Nothing happened. I made it back. Just have to get inside and…

Turning the corner, I stumble at the edge of the porch.

There, sitting right on the doorstep, is a box.

It’s small, long, and flat.

And horrifying.

Nothing has been delivered the entire time we’ve been here. No one is supposed to know this place exists.

“Please be from Ora, please be from Ora,” I keep the mantra going as I gather my courage and step up to the door, snatching the box tentatively and punching in the code.

As soon as I’m inside, I collapse onto the couch, setting the box on the coffee table like it’s full of snakes. The paper wrapping is plain. Brown.

And on the front, scrawled in marker, it just says Hellena.

No address. No sender.

Tell is going to freak. Gavin is going to have a meltdown.

Just like that, it hits me. I need to get rid of it. I need to hide it.

But something else inside me says I need to know what’s inside it first.

With quivering fingers, I tear the paper, hesitating at the seam in the box. It’s light. Probably not a bomb.

It could be poison, though. Or sleeping gas.

Or…

Geeze. Get a grip, Hellena. Shaking the box, I hear a light crinkling. Like paper.

Popping it open, I sigh as a simple slip of parchment slides into my hand.

“See? Nothing to be paranoid about. Except getting in debt to drug dealers, putting my aunt in mortal danger, working for a bookie who deals in favors, living with an ex-hitman, getting sold off to my mobster stepfather and shot…”

A hysterical laugh slips out as I turn over the page, unfolding it.

It’s handwritten. A simple message.

Hellena Michaels,

I know where you are. I would like to speak with you. If you want to know more about your father, meet me at the address below. Tomorrow.

Come alone.

Or else.

-Foxglove

13

HELLENA

Ireread the note several times, looking for something I might have missed. It can’t be real.

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