“Okay? You think we’re okay?” Ash asked, shoving Nate hard. She wanted to jolt him free from whatever stupor he was in.

“It’s… it was nothing,” he said.

Ash shook her head. This wasn’t nothing. Nate swore these people were good and kind. She believed him. Fuck, she even got a tattoo for him. That stupid Tribe tattoo. She couldn’t think about that now. She had to help Eli. A million thoughts flickered through her brain. Ash didn’t trust cops. In her experience, they were generally useless. There was only one person she trusted. Ash fumbled for her phone.

“What are you doing?” Nate demanded.

“I’m calling Becca,” she said. Before Ash could press her number on speed dial, Nate grabbed her wrists, pinning them and the phone together. From the start, Nate swore that he would always protect her. Ash winced. “Ow. Nate, you’re hurting me.”

Nate instantly released her, regret clouding his expression. “I’m sorry, Ash. I’m so sorry, but you can’t tell anyone what happened.”

“Screw that. Eli’s hurt. We have to tell someone. He needs help.”

“No, stay out of it. This is family business,” Nate said.

“Family business? What does that mean?”

“Mo said Eli violated the code. We have to send a message,” Nate said.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. The more Nate said, the worse things got. Code? What code? What kind of a message? She didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.

Tears pricked at Ash’s eyes. She could feel the panic building. She rubbed her hands on her faded blue jeans. Becca always said, “When things get hard, most people panic. The ones who survive remember to breathe.”

“I can’t… I can’t stay here. I have to go,” Ash said. She needed to get away from him; she needed to think about what she was going to do.

Nate went to stop her. This time his touch was gentle, his voice urgent. “Ash, promise you won’t tell anyone. Promise me?”

Ash hesitated. “Ash, please,” he said.

“I promise,” she whispered, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that after today nothing between them would ever be the same. Ignoring Nate’s pleas to stay, Ash summoned a page from her old playbook, and she ran.

BECCA

An explosion of sound jolted Becca Ortiz from the depths of sleep. Her entire body tensed, her breath catching. Please let it just be the wind. Please. She held her breath, waiting. It wasn’t the wind. She heard it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps and the crunching of glass. Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, Becca bolted out of bed. Someone was breaking in.

Her next thought was of Ash. Becca leapt to her feet, grabbed her phone, and raced down the hall toward her daughter’s bedroom. “Ash, wake up. Someone’s in the house,” she whispered urgently.

No response. “Ash, you have to wake up.” Only silence greeted her. God, teenagers really could sleep through anything. Becca fumbled around in the dark until she located the nearby lamp, a gentle white light illuminating the room. Becca was still half-asleep, and it took a moment to register what she was seeing. Ash was gone, her bed still neatly made.