I scream, but a palm smothers the sound. I bite his skin and taste salty flesh and the metallic tang of blood. Tucker hisses, but rather than let go, he closes his arm over my chest and yanks me back.
I grab desperately onto the doorframe. My fingers turn bone-white with strain; there’s a sharp scrape as they pop free. My heels skid over the tile as I’m dragged away from the doors. He tosses me into the kitchen. I stumble to my knees, and the door slams shut and locks. I’m hyperventilating, but I’m almost too scared to notice. Not with Tucker standing over me with his arms tensed at his sides and his chest rising and falling fast, as if he can hardly contain his rage.
I scramble up, but he grabs my arm again before I can take a single step. My skin burns where his fingers dig into me.
“Let go of me!”
“Hope, wait!” He’s right in my face now, eyes wild and dancing. “It’s not what you think!”
“I have a friend outside. She’ll call the cops, and you’ll go to jail.”
“Just listen! If you stop trying to run away, I’ll let you go.”
I bite his arm, and he yelps. I skid past him to a wooden chopping block. I’m reaching for a bread knife when he gets hold of me again.
“Jesus! I’m not who you think I am. Someone has been blackmailing me.”
I still. Just for the tiniest second, but he takes advantage of it.
“A few weeks ago I was at a gas station filling up, and I went inside to buy some chew. When I got back to my car, there was a note under the windshield wipers. It said that my secret would be revealed if I didn’t do as I was told. I couldn’t let that happen, Hope. My dad went through hell to make those charges go away, and if it got out…I’d never get into Stanford with a criminal record. My dad would disown me. At best.”
“So you thought you’d make it better by trying to kill me?” I spit.
He shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that. I was told all I’d have to do is get close to you and Farrah, keep tabs on your locations, collect some info, stuff like that. So I agreed. I mean, big deal! And then—and then I got a note and a package last week telling me I needed to take you out. I got scared, Hope. I did it, but I immediately regretted it. That’s why I saved you! I’m so sorry.”
He runs his hands up my arms, but I recoil from his grip. This time he lets me go.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats.
“Sorry for what? Trying to kill me with the smoke bomb, or for attacking me just now?”
He turns his palms up helplessly.
The Society wants to kill me. If Tucker hadn’t had a change of heart, I’d be dead right now. My legs suddenly feel weak, and I have to grip the counter to keep from sliding to my knees.
“And why should I believe you about any of this?” I ask, even though I already feel my surety crumbling. “You lied about Charlotte.”
He shakes his head, and a blond lock falls in front of his eyes. “Because it’s the truth. And if you ask me to, I’ll tell the cops the same.”
Tucker steps out of the way, leaving a clear path to the patio doors. My heart beats fast as I cross the black-and-white-checked tile and slide the glass door open. Birds chirp happily from the live oaks in his yard. After what just happened, it’s hard to believe there’s a whole world outside this house, existing normally.
I look back. Tucker hunches over the countertop, bent and broken. I should run far and fast, but I still have one more question. “How did you know I was here?”
Tucker looks up. His normally bright eyes are a hazy, deep blue. “I got an anonymous tip.”
But I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here. The Society was watching me again. Which means they have more than Tucker on their team.
“I’m going to find out who’s doing this,” I say. “But I want you to stay away from me.”
He looks so small now, deflated and regretful, but he nods.
Lyla’s in the grass, peering through a window, when I come out. “Hope!” she cries when she sees me.
“Let’s go.” I aim for the car. She follows obediently, and we climb into our seats.
“What happened?” Lyla asks.
I look at the house as I snap my seat belt. “Just go.”
Keys jangle, and the engine growls to life. I fumble for the inhaler in my purse and suck in two quick puffs, then slam against the seat as Lyla swerves onto the street. The house disappears from the rearview mirror.
“Hope, what happened?” Lyla glances away from the road and takes in the red marks on my arms. “Jesus, did he attack you?”
“Where were you?” I ask. “Why didn’t you call?”
“I didn’t see him coming. He came from the other way, and by the time he was in the driveway it was too late. What happened in there?”
Tucker attacked me. Betrayed me. Humiliated me.
“Idiot.” I hit the dash. “Idiot, idiot, idiot. I can’t believe I fell for it.”