“You can let go,” I spit through gritted teeth as I get to the side of the stage. “You should let go.”

But he doesn’t. Even when he stops moving and halts me with him once we cross through the partition. Everyone has cleared out from the hallway.

The mayor.

My mother.

Everyone.

“I said let go,” I repeat. “Now.”

But he doesn’t, and you’d think I would’ve learned my lesson all those years ago, that sometimes, fighting back doesn’t get you anywhere.

Fuck. That.

I drag my feet even though we’re going down the same hallway we entered. I’m about to yell when we make it to the backdoor we came through after I parked Fitz’s Mercedes alongside Agent Samuels’s SUV.

But my voice flees, as does my courage, when in front of me, another agent opens the door to an SUV where my mother sits.

“Get in, Parker.”

Now the goon lets go of my arm, expecting me to comply. But I’ll never get in a car with my mother. It doesn’t matter that she wasn’t in the vehicle that took me that night. She arranged it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I find Fitz’s car where I left it, but it’s no longer flanked by my security detail. The only other SUV in the parking lot is this one, followed by two other smaller vehicles.

I shake my head. “I’m not riding with you.”

My mom’s eyes dart behind me, no doubt to make contact with the agent who dragged me out back. “You will. We have some things to discuss. The first being this ridiculous, immature behavior. Between tonight and whatever you two staged at that bar”—Mom pauses, wrinkling her face—“and the second, your engagement party.”

She nods, and from behind, I sense the agent getting closer. I go to reach for my phone. I’ll call the police. I’ll tell them I’m being taken against my will.

But when I reach into my pocket, my phone shrills, and I sense the agent’s hesitation behind me. I quickly open the call, not caring who it is. But fuck, I’m so happy it’s Fitz.

“Sorry, we were watching film and needed to finish up.”

My mother stares hard.

“Parker?” Fitz’s voice booms in silence. “Can you hear me?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry.” I clear my throat, putting the call on speaker. “I can hear you.”

There’s a beat of silence, but thankfully not a long one. “Are you alright?”

“I’m about to head home. I’m in Littleton.” I try to think of the name of the university we’re at, which I’ve seen plastered all over the last hour but suddenly can’t remember. It makes me panic more. “I’ll be… I’m about to get in the car⁠—"