Shane nods, then levels with me. “Look. I want to help, but I can’t risk my daughter. Her mother checked out years ago, and I’m all she has. Things are tough in L.A., but I’ve landed a steady job and decent apartment. If I hear anything, I’ll pass it along. But as soon as I save up enough money, we’re getting out of here.”
I hold his gaze a moment longer. “Okay.”
Shane blinks. “Okay?”
“Anything you hear in relation to boosting cars or selling people, I want to know. Noctis will set up a point of contact for you.” The metal legs of the chair I’m sitting inscreechalong the broken concrete slabs as I push back and stand. “Oh, and Shane?”
He swallows as I let coldness seep into my tone. “If I hear one whisper of you supporting this organization again—cars or otherwise—I’ll drag a blade through your stomach and have your daughter watch as I strangle you with your entrails.”
His face pales for all of a heartbeat before he grits his teeth and lifts his chin. “That won’t happen.”
I meet his declaration with a tilt of my head, letting the chilling effect of the mask sink in. “I hope you’re right.”
24
EVIE
Most of my ideas about Los Angeles are images of Hollywood I’ve seen through movies and music. The city itself is a lot busier and, oddly enough, less romanticized than I imagined. We weave through heavily crowded streets passing towering skyscrapers sprouting between older 1950’s-style architecture. We pass single-family homes lined with palm trees and bustling back alleys before entering the part of the city dedicated to universities and small overpriced coffee shops. Tempest assures me rush hour traffic has died down and this is normal, but it still takes us far too long to reach our intended destination.
“Here we are,” Tempest breaths, arching her neck to peer up at the brown crisscrossing beams that formed a hollowed, artistic structure above the entrance. She takes off her sunglasses before turning her excited gaze my way. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
I stare at the building’s façade, marveling at the way modern art mingles with intricate stone and brick designs from another time. “Yes,” I reply, letting Tempest link her arm with mine and lead us through the doors.
“In the late 1800s, this was a fairground of sorts, and then it became a science center in the early 1900s,” Tempest explains as we queue for tickets. “There’ve been a few expansions since, with the rose garden being my favorite, but we’ll go through the body exhibit first.”
I glance at the science center before us, following where she points. When Tempest first mentioned L.A., I assumed she wanted to go on a shopping trip or wear triangle bikinis on the beach, and eye-fuck volleyball players. But her biochemistry professor offered extra credit to anyone who attended the exhibit featuring real human bodies—skinned, with muscles exposed.
Turns out, it was just as unnerving as I thought it would be. The preserved remains were set up in various poses, most in athletic displays. There were dancers and football players, both of which Tempest found fascinating. Even I could appreciate the intricate network of muscles and tendons linking together, admire the power and ingenuity of the human body, but then there were other displays. Like the wall featuring a human stomach, liver, and other bits of the digestive system strung up.Gross.
Tempest typed notes furiously as we sat through a film about medical marvels before we ventured through other parts of the museum, including photo galleries featuring microscopic creatures in bright colors.
“Thank you,” I say, accepting the iced coffee from beneath a large umbrella. Retreating to the shade in the garden, I pick a bench near the roses and fountain, waiting for Tempest to get her drink. My phone buzzes for the tenth time today, and I already know who it is. I silence it and toss it into my purse, ignoring the dozens of texts and handful of messages. There will be time to deal with all of that later, after Tempest and I finish up at the museum.
“That was actually fun,” I say, sipping my coffee as Tempestsits. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, lifting my cheeks to the sun as the sounds of water trickling over stone soothes me.
“Told you.” Tempest nudges my shoulder with a smirk before glancing at my purse. My phone’s flashing again with another notification. “Everything all right?”
“Not really,” I reply, surprising myself. Tempest doesn’t push, though. She sits quietly, posture relaxed, coffee loosely held in her hand until I’m ready. A heavy weight settles across my shoulders as I drop her gaze, choosing instead to focus on the bright pink blossoms framing the base of the fountain. “I’m missing a family lunch today, and my brother’s a little upset about it.”
Tempest lifts a perfectly sculpted brow as the inside of my purse lights up again. I tug it open, finding the screen flashing with an incoming call. “Did you tell him we had plans?”
“Yep,” I say around a long gulp, letting the sweet taste of caramel roll over my tongue. “But he’s probably using my absence to convince my father I’m ‘slipping into sin.’”
A sharp snort escapes from Tempest before she realizes I’m not being sarcastic. “Holy fuck, Evie. All that over one day out? What happens when you have midterms? Or if you just don’t want to go?”
“Nothing good,” I mutter, crossing then uncrossing my ankles. “At best, my family views college as a distraction. At worst, it’s a place of ‘brainwashing.’ As a woman, I’m meant to do whatever my husband needs. College only promotes the idea that I could live independently.”
“Youcan,” she snaps. “You can be a whole, happy fucking person without ever getting married and ripping your body apart for babies. Jesus fucking Christ, I knew they were a little off after lunch the other day, but this is starting to sound unsafe.”
I flinch as my stomach clenches, because Tempest is right. I don’t feel safe at home—or rather, the place I’ve been forced tocall home. I’m not sure what would happen if Jonathan found out about Silas and all the filthy things I’ve let him do to me, but I know it would be bad. Honestly, itisbad.
I hate the rhetoric my family pushes. That I’m somehow lacking because I was born with breasts. It’s exhausting to feel like speaking, thinking—fucking breathing—is an inconvenience for the people around me. And then they take all of that guilt and self-loathing and weave it into a religion that tells me I’m going to hell if I even consider an existence outside of their abuse.
No. I won’t go back into the asylum my family raised me in, but that doesn’t mean I need to throw myself at the first man I meet either. Though, technically, Mark was the first guy I met—and he’s dead, so… Silas could be a possibility, right?
Get it together, Evie, I think, groaning inwardly. I don’t need a boyfriend—or whatever Silas is.Was.Tempest is my friend, my first and only. It’s only been a few months, but I know I can trust her with anything.
“You’re right,” I finally say, picking at my fingers. I grin, thinking of Mother’s face if she saw the state of my chipped nail polish. “The house I’ve been raised in isn’t safe. I’m only just starting to realize all the ways, but going back at the end of the semester might just kill me.”
