She hesitates just a moment. “To meet with Harlow Slater.”
“Harlow Slater,” I repeat the name. “Wait, as in Heath Slater? I’m assuming the same last name isn’t a coincidence.”
“It’s not,” she says. “Harlow is his mother. She and Felicity were close friends, and the boys thought they could get some answers from her since Tucker hacked into a text thread between them.”
My face grows cold, my stomach plummeting. “Then what’s the news? Is everything okay?” All I can picture is Heath attacking Dylan. Of him falling back and Heath standing over his body, only it’s not Heath I see—it’s a snake. Just like the one tattooed on his face.
“I’m sure they’re fine, okay? Bradyn probably had to go because they were checking in. They do that sometimes, all gather for the check-in. If it were an emergency, he would’ve looked a lot more worried.”
“So he looked worried?”
“No. I mean, a little concerned, but that’s just Bradyn. He worries until he doesn’t have to.”
“Kennedy—”
“Emma, it’ll be fine. Okay? I didn’t want to worry you, but I thought you should know just in case.”
“Just in case something goes wrong and they get themselves killed.” I shake my head. “I begged him to leave it alone.”
“Let’s just hold off and see what Bradyn has to say, okay? He’ll be in any minute.”
I clench my fists and fight the urge to track Bradyn down myself. Surely we would’ve all gotten the call if it were something more serious, right? They wouldn’t leave all of us in the dark.
Still, something is wrong. I know it is. I uncross my arms and clench both hands into fists.
Lord, please let them be okay. Please let them be okay, I repeat.
How could they walk into a den of vipers like that and not have something go wrong? Gio is a bad man…but Heath Slater is so much worse. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait much longer because the front door opens and Bradyn strolls in.
“Are they okay?” I blurt.
He glances over at Kennedy, who shrugs. “She deserved to know. You know it, and I know it.”
Bradyn sighs. “I know. I told Dylan to tell you,” he adds to me.
I cross my arms. “Yeah, well, Dylan doesn’t have the greatest communication skills. What happened?”
“There was a shooting at the café they met Harlow Slater at.”
“A shooting?” I choke on the word and have to reach out to steady myself on the wall behind me. “Are they—did they?—”
“They’re both fine,” he says quickly. “Harlow Slater was hit, but the bullet missed anything vital and went straight through. She’s been in the hospital all day, and they’ve been dealing with local PD.”
They’re okay. I take a deep breath, but the helpless twisting in my gut remains.
“Who shot her?” Kennedy asks.
“We don’t know. But Dylan and Tucker are staying with her for protection until she’s able to leave the hospital.”
“Then what?” I demand. “If she was the target, they’ll just keep coming after her.” I think about Felicity. I may not have known her well, but that didn’t keep me from crying most of the night, thinking about the little time I had with her.
How unfair it was that she was killed all because she helped me.
Will Harlow meet the same fate? And why?
How many more people have to die before this is all over? Ice water in my veins, I redirect my attention to the conversation.
“We’re not sure who pulled the trigger yet.”
