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“What do you mean she’s gone?”

When I don’t reply, Asher speaks again. “None of that.” He grips my shoulder and turns me onto my back. I don’t bother fighting him, they’ve already seen me anyway. “Have you been eating?” He grimaces, making a point by knocking his knuckles onto my protruding collarbone.

Again, I don’t reply. I just study the floral-patterned ceiling.

I can’t bear it. I can’t fucking bear it.

“Who do we need to hurt?” Blake says in a bored tone. He’s the quiet one of the three of us, but when it comes to violence… he’s normally the first one to speak. While the town was raised on Christianity, frustrated teenagers were always out looking for fights to blow off steam from their disciplined lives. In secret, of course. Half of us wouldn’t still be here otherwise.

I shake my head, hiding behind my palms and rubbing them into my eyes. “They fucking took her.”

“Who did?” Asher asks and I drop my hands to see the quirk of his eyebrow, his blue eyes dancing over my face, and his chain dangling in front of my eyes.

“Can you not lean over me like that?” I mumble. He jumps off the bed but hovers over me still.

“I’m surprised the news hasn’t gotten around yet,” I say, tone flat. “Vivian and my father are married. They have been for years.”

“Holy shit.” Asher laughs as walks over to my wall mirror, rolling his shoulders and neck. “So, you’ve been fucking your stepsister?”

“She’s not my stepsister,” I growl quietly.

She’s the love of my life.

“Asher,” Blake scolds from his perch on the chair.

I sit up, unable to stop the shake in my legs that starts again, nor the noisy vision and temporary dizziness that passes over.

They’re involved in a stare-down with each other when I regain my vision.

“What the fuck did they do to you?” Blake’s tone is all concern and well-controlled anger as he looks at me again.

“Vivian sent her somewhere right after they revealed their marriage,” I divulge. “I haven’t been able to find out where.”

A concern passes over both of their finely stubbled faces. Asher and Blake treat Jordie like their little sister despite us all being the same age. When she asked Asher to practice tattooing on her after she saw mine, he refused—he didn’t want her to get in shit for it—but it took all of two seconds and some puppy dog eyes for him to give in to her. He gave tattooed her where it’s easy to hide, but somewhere she wanted it. It’s why most of Asher’s tattoos are all upside down—when he first started, he didn’t have stencil equipment, so he freehanded all of them. They’re amazing, nonetheless. And I’ve never seen a bruise on him considering they’re always on display.

Blake is the only one of us who refuses to be tattooed. He likes to tease Asher about his lack of professional studio or a sterile environment since he operates from an abandoned warehouse we found in the forest, but Asher counters Blake’s jesting with his own. They’ve been in a never-ending teasing war with each other since Blake was adopted.

Asher’s face morphs into something between confusion and unnerve. “Like… she’s fully gone?”

I jerk a nod, focusing my attention back to the carpet.

“How can they just send her away in secret?”

My molars grind together as I shake my head helplessly.

A sparkle of a lighter pulls my attention to Blake. The end of a rolled cigarette glows red as he lights it and takes a drag.

“What the fuck?” I recoil, suddenly feeling a bit more perked up. “Since when do you smoke?”

He flashes his teeth as the cigarette leaves his mouth followed by a plume of smoke, but it sure doesn’t smell like a normal cigarette.

“It’s not tobacco. It’s what our parents would refer to as ‘the devil’s lettuce’,” Asher drawls as he takes the stick from between Blake’s fingers and pushes it between his own lips. Blake watches him with narrowed eyes as if Asher just finished the whole thing for him.

“Since when?” I repeat again, shaking my head. “What is that?”

Blake shrugs, taking it from Asher again. “Someone at Reece’s party had it last weekend.” The party I missed because of the gala, that’s why my best friends were missing. “It’s… relaxing.”

I perk up as if I just found the solution to all my problems. “Relaxing?”