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“The Trick Pony.”

I sat frozen in my seat as I stared at the side of her head. I willed her to look in my direction, but she kept her eyes down, not daring to look at anyone.

Gunner slammed his hands on the table and screamed, “FUCK!”

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and I lifted my hand, catching it with my finger and bringing it to my mouth. I leaned forward. “Your tears are mine. Not theirs. You don’t cry for them. You fucking cry for me.”

She finally turned her head and looked into my eyes. I saw into the depths of her soul, as arousal swirled in her eyes, and I vowed, despite her trying to walk away, she was fucking mine.

Even if I had to force her.

I saw in her someone broken. Someone like me. Maybe we could put each other back together. The way that Cash and Rose had.

They were both broken, swallowed by grief and guilt. They’d made each other whole again. Two shattered people clinging to each other, gluing the cracks back together with love.

Was I capable of love?

Was Indie?

I loved my sister. I loved Sam, and Charlie, and the twins. I loved my mother. I was capable of loving someone who meant something to me. People I wanted to protect.

Indie was one of those people. Was loving her that much different? Was it more? I didn’t think of Indie the way I did my sister, or Sam. It was more. I wanted to devour her. Consume her. I wanted to be a part of her.

I wanted to rip my heart out and give it to her. Take hers and throw it away. Hers had been hurt. Destroyed by those who should have protected her. She wouldn’t need it anymore if she had mine.

And mine was useless without her.

She’d awakened something in me. Something primal, feral. Her piece-of-shit father could go fuck himself. He was never going to get her back.

She was mine, and I was keeping her.

If I had to, I would lock her in a fucking cell downstairs.

“What is your real name, Indie?”

Indie tore her eyes from mine as she focused on King. She shook her head, not wanting to answer. The room was quiet after Indie’s silent refusal. The only sound was the click-clacking of Nav’s fingers on his computer. He’d been typing away since the moment Indie had told us about the Trick Pony.

“Kate Porter.”

Everyone in the room turned toward Nav as he called out a name. Indie’s name. She was the only one who hadn’t looked at him. Instead, she closed her eyes.

“Is she?” Gunner asked, unable to fully ask the question we all had.

Nav nodded solemnly. “She is one of the missing children from the Trick Pony. One of the twelve files I found. Alice Cavanaugh, Briony Roosevelt, Claire Fieldstone, Delilah Lincoln, Everleigh Grant, Faith Washington, Georgia Sawyer, Hannah Underwood, Isabelle Brooks, Jennifer Dawson, Kate Porter, and Leighton Everette.”

“Jenny died,” Indie whispered.

“What?” King asked.

“Jennifer Dawson. She took her life when we were in a foster home.”

“Do you know where the others are?”

Indie shook her head. “Alice, Jenny, and I were put in a home together. After Jenny committed suicide, Alice and I ran away. We separated in Texas.”

“What about the others?” Colt asked.

Indie shrugged. “I don’t know. After we were rescued from the Trick Pony, Magyk dropped us all off in various states.”