PROLOGUE
nineteen years ago
State your name for the record.”
“Gray,” I whispered as I fussed with the handcuffs around my wrists. They hurt. I’d been in them for hours, moved between rooms, and then chained to this table. The last detective I tried to tell that to just scoffed at me.
“I need your full name, son.” The detective who sat across from me scribbled something down on his stupid little notepad.What the hell did he have to write down anyway?I hadn’t said anything worth all the scribbles. And what was his name again? I should’ve paid attention better.
“Grayson Charles Harper.”
“Good. And do you know why we arrested you?”
“You found drugs,” I said. When he glanced at me, I added, “In my dad’s house.”
“Where you live, correct?” the detective asked.
“Sort of,” I answered with a shrug. Most of the time, I crashed in the old barn or in the back of my boyfriend’s car.Mostly because my drunk-as-fuck father kicked me out for some reason or another.“When he don’t mind me there.”
Which was never. Marta was the only person in that house who liked me, and she wasjustthe cleaning lady. She kept me fed, stitched up my clothes that tore, and kept the first aid kit stocked. A big part of me wished I could just go home with her instead.Those were just silly dreams.
“Is the house listed on your driver’s license as your place of residence?” he continued.
“Yes, Sir,” I muttered.
“Where did you get the drugs, son?”
“I…” I faltered. What was I supposed to say?My boyfriend took the drugs while I was busy stealing the money they didn’t know about.At least, I hoped they didn’t. I’d stashed that shit to help me escape this hellhole. “I don’t got a good answer for that, Sir.”
The detective just nodded, his lips pressing together tightly and damn near disappearing under his bushy mustache. I just stared at him. Why would anyone want a ridiculous thing like that on their face? Did he want to match his mop hair?
“I’m going to level with you, son—”
“I ain’t your son,” I snapped.I was no one’s son.Not really.
“Right,” he replied. The pen dropped to the table as he leaned forward. “We found three hundred and fifty grams of heroin in your house. That’s a first-degree felony. You’re seventeen. You’ll be tried as an adult. You won’t end up in juvie, son. That’s real time in an adult prison.”
My heart thumped harder in my chest.Prison.I wasn’t made for a tiny room with four walls and no window. I needed the open air around me and the earth beneath my feet.
“Do you know what they do to scrawny little boys like you in prison?”
“I don’t, Sir, but I reckon it ain’t that hard to figure out,” I said.Thatshit I wasn’t worried about. I was a goddamn hunter. Demons were more terrifying than a bunch of assholes in prison. Besides, I could control the air and the earth. While I wasn’t dumb enough to use my power in front of humans, I wasn’t opposed to it either. Sometimes, people just needed to be put back in their place.
“No, I’m sure it’s not,” he agreed. “So, who did the drugs belong to, Grayson?”
“It’s Gray,” I corrected. “Ain’t no one around here callin’ me Grayson. Sir.”
“Look, son,” the detective began, “if I’m being honest, I don’t think you did this. That boyfriend of yours—Sampson West—he’s got a rap sheet a mile long. You? The only thing you’ve got is a handful of loitering warnings. The evidence all points to you, but I can’t see how you go from hanging out where you shouldn’t be to hard drugs. Come on, son. You help me, I help you. Was this your boyfriend’s doing?”
I said nothing.
“If we ask him, is he going to say it was you?” he pushed.No way in hell would Sam turn on me like that.“No matter what they say, silence is just as damning as saying something.”
I just shrugged. I didn’t have a damn thing to say. They didn’t have enough to say this was me, and Sam wouldn’t say a fucking word.Wasn’t quite sure what they’d do with the whole drugs in the house thing, but hell… even my old man was home.I couldn’t be the only one in hot water. And good old Teddy Harper didn’t take shit lying down. There was no way my old man wouldn’t figure out a way to sweep this shit under some rug somewhere.
Hopefully.
“All right then.” The detective drummed his fingers on the table as he settled on just staring at me.Glaring at me. I shrugged again because no way in hell would some old man with a mop for hair intimidate me.
