Criminals. Just like my mom had called them. But it was wrong, it was so wrong. Their entire lives were written off because of what they’d done to survive, because of circumstances beyond their control.

“That’s not fair.” I was so frustrated that my throat swelled, but I choked down the lump. This wasn’t the time to cry, not now, not in front of Lucas. They were all worried enough. “That’s so wrong, they shouldn’t…fuck.” I was so useless just standing there, not knowing what was going on. I wanted to help, but what could I possibly do?

“Life isn’t, and never has been, fair,” Lucas said. His voice was gentler than I expected, like he was imparting a valuable life lesson that he wished he didn’t have to give. He stood in front of me, looking at me for a moment as if he couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to do.

Then he wrapped his arms around me. Slowly and stiffly at first, as if he was hugging something prickly. But when I burrowed my face against him and wrapped my arms around him in return, he softened. It was like his chest caved in and he tried to draw me into it, clinging to me as if I would slip away.

“You chose some fucked up guys to play with, Jess,” he said. His chin rested on top of my head, and I could hear his heart pounding so hard and fast it was a wonder he could stand still at all. “I’m sorry to say this shit comes with the territory. But you’re safe with us, I swear that much.”

“I’m not worried about myself,” I said, not raising my head from his chest. “I’m worried about you. About Manson, and Jason, and Vincent. I want you to be safe too.”

He exhaled softly — a half-hearted laugh. “I don’t think we’re going to find safety in Wickeston. But someday…someday we will. Somewhere else.”

Without me. The thought sprang to my mind so hard and fast that it shocked me, the lump squeezing into my throat again. But I didn’t want to think about that, not now. The more I thought about the future, the worse it would be. I needed to focus on the here and now.

And here, now, we had a bigger problem to deal with.

“Try not to worry.” Lucas finally eased his hold, giving my arms a squeeze as he did. “Manson can handle himself.”

My worry hadn’t dissipated; I could tell his hadn’t either. But I felt a little steadier at least. He went to stand in his doorway, leaning against the frame as he listened for them to come back into the house. In the meantime, I tried to occupy my nervous energy by having a look around.