“Hey, yeah, we’re good,” Ethan told him, shifting in his leather seat. “Is anything wrong? I don’t think I was speeding, was I?”
There was silence, and I imagined the officer bending down to peer through Ethan’s window. I remained still.
“Kind of late to be out, isn’t it?” he finally said, ignoring the question.
The hair on my arms stood up. What did he care?
Ethan let out a nervous laugh. “Come on, man. You sound like my mom.”
“Winter?” The cop spoke up. “Everything okay?”
Heat brushed the side of my face. He had his flashlight on me.
I nodded quickly. “Yeah, we’re fine.”
But my hands started shaking. We shouldn’t have stopped. If we’d just been able to get down into the village, around people…
“Can you pop the trunk for us?” the cop asked, his tone clipped. “You have a bulb out. I’ll check it.”
Us. There were two of them.
“I do?” Ethan shifted in his seat again. “That’s weird.”
The trunk popped open, and Ethan exhaled as I waited quietly, still feeling the heat of the flashlight.
“If you see any bodies back there, they’re not mine!” Ethan called back to the second cop at his trunk, joking.
The car shifted under me a little as the second officer fumbled around at the rear, and I clasped my hands together.
“Congratulations to your sister, Winter,” the officer still at the window said. “Looks like your family’s luck is improving. You must be grateful.”
I pursed my lips.
“So where are you two going?” he asked.
“To my apartment in the city,” Ethan replied.
There was a pause, the heat left my cheek, and then he continued, “Planning on staying a while, Winter?” the officer questioned. “Is that your bag in the backseat?”
I swallowed, my heart suddenly hammering.
And then I hear the officer’s low, taunting voice. “Tsk-tsk-tsk… Damon won’t like that.”
I turned my face away, out my window. Shit. I knew it.
“Excuse me?” Ethan interjected.
But he was interrupted by the officer shouting from the back. “Found something?”
“What?” Ethan blurted out.
I turned my head back toward their direction.
They found something? In his trunk?
“Step out of the car, please, Mr. Belmont.”
No.
“What is this? What’s going on?” Ethan argued.
But the next thing I knew, his door was opening, and I could feel him getting out of the car. I didn’t know if the officer helped him or he did it of his own free will, but I opened my mouth to speak. “Ethan…” But I didn’t know what to say. They had him now.
Shuffling and mumbling, I could feel the car shift under me as they dug in the trunk again.
But then…
“What?” Ethan shouted. “That’s not mine!”
I twisted around in my seat, hearing Mikhail whine a little as I tried to hear what they were saying.
“Cocaine,” one of the officers said. “That’s a felony.”
I shot my eyebrows up. Cocaine? As in… cocaine? I unfastened my seatbelt and opened my door. No.
Stepping out of the car, I got out, leaving the door open, and kept my hand on the vehicle, using it as guide as I walked toward the rear. I wasn’t supposed to leave the car. They were going to yell at me, but…
“You guys have to be joking?” Ethan growled. “You planted that!”
I heard a scuffle and a grunt, and I sucked in a breath.
“Whoa, whoa,” one of the officers said. “Are you under the influence right now?”
What was happening?
More grunting, gravel kicked up under their feet, and I knew they had their hands on him.
“Stop!” I yelled, my hands sliding down the hood of the car to the open trunk as I reached them. “He would never do drugs. What are you doing?”
I heard heavy breathing I assumed was Ethan’s as the chilly evening air stung my nose.
“We’ve got at least fifteen baggies here,” a cop said.
“That’s intent to distribute,” added the other.
Intent to distribute. Two possible felony charges? My head was reeling.
“You son of a—” Ethan growled but was cut off and shut up.
“Wait!” I burst out. “Please stop. This is my fault.”
This was all a setup. There was no way he had drugs in his trunk. These cops stopped us for a reason, and it wasn’t a busted taillight.
I stepped closer, careful of my footing. “I called him,” I said, taking the blame. “What do you want me to do? Just please… Please don’t do anything to him.”
There was silence for a few moments, and then I heard some clicks. Someone was on their phone.
“Sir?” one of the cops said. “I have her here.”
Damon. This was him. He was who the cop was calling.
A cool hand touched mine, and I jerked, pausing when I realized the officer had put the phone in my hand. My fear and confusion slipped away, replaced with anger. I breathed hard, seething as I clenched my teeth.
I raised the phone to my ear.
“I’m very disappointed you actually thought this would work,” a hard voice said. “Although I am surprised you even got out of the house.”
It wasn’t Damon.
“Gabriel?” I barely mumbled, shocked.
Damon’s dad had arranged all of this? I was pretty sure he hadn’t been at the wedding. I knew he had to fully support what Damon was doing, but it escaped me that he’d have his back, too. He was watching me.
“Try not to worry,” he went on. “They’ll let him go in the morning.”
“They’ll let him go now!” I growled.
I wasn’t having my friend suffer at all because of me. It was stupid. I should’ve known better. Even if I had made it out, I would’ve put Ethan in Damon’s path just by involving him.
“Or we can keep him locked up until the trial,” Mr. Torrance continued. “Your choice.”
I ground my teeth together, too angry to think. Ethan wasn’t tough. I loved him, but a night in jail wouldn’t be good. Much less weeks, months, or years. Tears sprang to my eyes, but I forced them away.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to get your fucking little ass back home and in bed,” he bit out.
I shook my head, knowing he had me—for now.
But not forever.
“You think I’ll be easy?” I challenged.
“Of course not.” His tone softened, sounding amused. “That’s why he wants you, Winter. Just try not to be predictable next time.”
“What do you care anyway? You have Arion.”
“Arion is Mrs. Torrance,” he clarified. “The face of his family, and the one who will raise his children. But you?” He paused, his tone darkening and making chills spread down my arms. “You’re his cherry on top.”
Damon
Seven Years Ago
I snake my arm around her, pulling her close and hanging on as I bury my nose in the back of her hair. The coarse little jewels glued to her costume cut into my arm. She’s so small and fragile, like a toothpick in my coil.
The fountain spills around us as her teeth sink into my hand, but instead of yanking my arm away, the pain of her sharp, little bite fills my veins with warmth and my eyelids flutter. Tingles spread under my skin, and the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding finally leaves my lungs.
It doesn’t feel bad. It doesn’t hurt the way it should.
I look at her small face, not resisting her as the pressure deepens, and I’m sure the skin has torn.
Yes.
I won’t pull away.
Not ever.
I squeezed her tighter in my arm, the curve of her body molding to mine as I refused to let go. Even as consciousness started to seep in, the fountain faded away, and the scent of her changed from flowers to my soap. The costume she was dressed in was now soft, like cotton, and her naked legs, free of their white tights, laid next to mine.
It was different. Something was different.
I blinked my eyes open, the weight of sleep heavy on my head as the dream floated away and the room came into view. As well as the body next to me.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t the girl from the dream.
I stared at the back of my sister’s head, her hair laying across my pillow and nearly as dark as mine. I could feel her breathing in my hold as she slept, and my fist clenched where it lay across her stomach.
I’d reached for her in my sleep.