My guts burned, and my heart felt like it was lodged in my throat. So much savagery here. So many good people had died simply because they weren’t willing—or were unable—to flee. And there’d been no one to help them fight. Out on the road with Emily, I’d begun to believe that maybe I could put my past behind me and reach for my own happiness. But being on this street was a reminder that I still owed a debt, and I’d barely made a dent.

chapter thirty-eight

Emily

He was pulling away from me. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally. I remembered what it felt like; it’d happened before.

I didn’t ask where we were going. I just walked the couple blocks beside him, allowing him time to come to terms with the fact that his uncle was dead. There wasn’t the time for grief—that would have to be set aside—but acceptance would help. Or so I hoped.

We stopped in front of a small house that looked very similar to his uncle’s, as did most of the homes in this obviously low-income neighborhood. A large red x marked this door as well and Tuck let out a staggered breath and hung his head. After a moment, he turned and looked around and then walked up to the porch, leaning toward the window and using his hand to shade his eyes as he gazed inside. I heard a groan come from his throat before he stood straight. “Let’s go.”

“Whose house is it, Tuck?” I asked quietly as we turned back down the block and began walking.

For a moment he was quiet, leaning toward an alley and peering down it before taking my arm and pulling me forward. “Abel’s girlfriend’s.”

Abel.

The young man who’d robbed a convenience store and bled to death in Tuck’s car, a crime that Tuck had taken partial responsibility for even though—to my mind—he shouldn’t have. I looked up at him, his jaw set, expression blank. “Were they…were they both in—”

“Yes,” he said, his voice choked.

“I’m so sorry. Tuck—”

“Come on. I know somewhere we can stay overnight. We’ll leave for your parents’ in the morning.”

My heart sank. I saw him shutting down, returning to the man he’d been. Not angry like I’d once thought. Not bitter. Helpless. Grief-stricken. All this carnage, all this death, and now the vision of what had to be the dead bodies of Abel’s girlfriend and young son had reminded him that he was still trying to make up for not doing what he believed he should have when presented the chance. For failing Abel, and in so doing, failing Abel’s girlfriend and son.