“Is this bad?” he asked.

“Could be fine.”

“You’re practically running.”

“I have short legs.”

“Are those guys about to fight for control of the Lopez family?”

“I’m sure they’ll cool down in a minute,” she lied. She glanced over her shoulder. No one was following them. She let out a breath and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She texted Hadley.

Are you alone?

Yes. Why?

We’re coming to you.

“I don’t mean to sound, uh, selfish, but are we still going to be able to get to the northern gate in”—he looked down at his bare wrist, seeming to forget that there was nothing there—“uh, however long we have left? Less than forty-eight hours?”

“Not now, Lennon.”

—

“What do you mean, unconscious?” Hadley blinked, wide-eyed.

“That’s what they said,” Maisie said.

Hadley slowly sat down in her chair. They were in the studio, an old song playing softly from the speakers. Lennon stood in the doorway. He kept fidgeting with his shirt—pulling on the collar, tugging a piece at the bottom around his finger—and then suddenly stopping, like he didn’t want anyone to notice he was nervous.

“They really didn’t tell you?” Maisie tried to keep the suspicion out of her voice, but Hadley looked at her sharply.

“No. I wouldn’t have kept that from you.”

“You know your cousins are about to start knifing each other. Julio, especially.”

“What else is new?” Hadley tried to sound flippant, but she chewed on her lower lip.

“Can I ask a question?” Lennon asked.

Maisie sighed. “Why not?”

“On the outside, I heard that Lopez was technically the head of the family, but he wasn’t really in charge. That was your dad, wasn’t it?” he asked Maisie.

“He was the enforcer, but Lopez made the decisions,” Maisie said carefully.

“It’s fine,” Hadley said, rolling her eyes. “Yes, Isaac Rojas was technically second-in-command, but everyone knew he was the one calling most of the shots.”

“They were a team,” Maisie said. “They’d been best friends since they were kids. My dad said that he’d always known that Lopez was a genius, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that the guy who could save us all was protected.”

“And he had a few guys that were like his second-in-command,” Hadley said. “They helped him keep everything in order. But they all died in the bus accident, and we’ve been winging it since.”

“Bus accident?” Lennon repeated.

“Bus flipped over during heavy rain last year, killed everyone on board,” Hadley said.

“Oh.” Lennon cast a sympathetic glance at Maisie. She looked away.

“Our intelligence said that you were being groomed to take over for your father,” Lennon said. “Was that wrong?”

“It wasn’t wrong,” she said bitterly. “They decided I couldn’t cut it.”

“That’s not it,” Hadley protested. “It’s because she was only seventeen when he died.”

Maisie shrugged. She’d doubted it would have mattered if her dad had lived until she was fifty. Declan was only twenty-two. But she didn’t command respect the way Declan did. The way her dad had.