I stare at the members of my gathered family. Dad appears to be on Danica’s and my side, sympathetic. Rachel’s only sixteen—she looks confused and upset. Mom, my aunts, and Granddad stare at my sister and me, stony-faced.
Danica stares back at our family. “So that’s it. I don’t let Patrick get away with hurting my friend, and I’m a traitor.”
Granddad’s glare is filled with loathing as he looks from me to Danica. “You both are.”
Danica starts to say something, but her voice breaks off in a sob. She spins around and runs down the street.
“Fuck you.” I point to Granddad before starting after Danica.
I pause halfway down the block. I can’t leave Leah. I watch as Danica gets in her car and takes off, tires squealing.
Ignoring my family, I march to the ambulance where Leah is still sitting.
“Do you feel good enough to stand?” An EMT with dark, curly hair encourages Leah off the ambulance seat.
Leah nods and gets to her feet, but she looks unsteady.
“Hey.” I reach for her hand.
She clasps mine with a grateful smile. She still looks disoriented, but much better than she was.
I glance at the EMT. “She doesn’t need the hospital?”
He shakes his head. “Her symptoms align with taking too much pixie dust. She should snap out of it in an hour or two. It’s best to keep an eye out for any complications or unexpected reactions. Leah, can I call someone for you?”
“No, I—I’m hoping Dmitri?—?”
I wrap my arms around her. “I’ll take you home, baby.”
17
Gage
For the second night in a row, a phone call wakes me. I answer without looking at the screen. “Yes?”
“Gage.”
Dmitri’s voice is more potent than ice water.
“What is it?” I sit up and flip on the light, illuminating the sparse hotel room. I closed the black-out curtains before going to bed. No hint of sunlight or streetlights can get through. My phone’s clock reads four a.m. “What’s wrong?”
“Leah was drugged at a party.”
Ice fills my veins. Drugged? Was it an accident? I’m plunged back into the terror of her kidnapping.
“Is she all right?” I get out of bed, panic giving every movement an extra layer of control. The worse things are, the calmer I get. I find my jeans, a shirt, and start getting dressed.
“She’s going to be, yeah. I’m taking her to my place to sleep it off.”
“Who did this to her?” If someone hurt her on purpose, I will make sure they regret it.
“I’ll tell you everything when you get here. I assume you’ll be here soon.”
“I’m in LA. There will be a lot of traffic, but I’ll be there as quickly as I can. Just—” My throat closes.
“Yeah?”
I swallow past my pain and panic. “Just, take care of her. Please.”