1
Emma
The police station is quiet and empty.
Of course it is.
It’s a Thursday night in Clearwater, a small college town not exactly known for its high crime rate.
That might be reassuring on any other night, but tonight it just allows the cops to focus all their attention on Trent.
“I don’t care what your computer says,” he growls at the cop who’s been questioning him for what has to be the seventh time this evening. “I didn’t steal my own car. It’s mine. I showed you the title and registration. Why the fuck isn’t that enough?”
The cop—an older guy who looks like he ran out of patience hours ago—bristles at the dark-haired man before him, and my stomach clenches with nerves.
Fuck, Trent, don’t make this worse than it already is.
Reese and West frame me on either side, and judging from the tension I can feel radiating from their bodies, I know they’re just as on-edge as I am. We’re in the right here. Trent isn’t lying, and he’s not a thief. If there were any sense and logic in the world, that would mean he had nothing to worry about.
But I’m not sure how much sense or logic still does exist in the world.
Not anymore.
Not now that Leslie’s got her hooks into all of our lives.
My ex-roommate, ex-friend, is the one behind this. She has to be. There’s no other explanation for why all of the guys’ cards were suddenly declined, why Trent’s car was listed as stolen.
I had no fucking idea when I recruited her last semester to help me put that blackmail video of Trent up on the student portal website that it would all backfire so spectacularly in my face. For reasons that I can still barely comprehend, Leslie decided to come after me instead of helping me take down the three men who have been both my bullies and my saviors.
And when they protected me from her, she went after them too.
“Well, fucking look again!”
Trent slams his fist down on the table, and I wince. I do understand his fury, but it isn’t winning us any friends here tonight. We need the cops on our side, need them to believe our story—but he’s so blinded by his anger right now that he can’t see past that.
After the cop pulled us over and ran the plates of the car, we were all brought in to the station. It’s been an uphill battle trying to get them to believe us. In the digital age, computers dictate reality, and thanks to Leslie, the computers are claiming Trent is a thief, and that the rest of us are accessories.
The grizzled officer pulls his lips back in a grimace. He stands slowly, resting his palms flat on the table in the interview room we were all taken into when we arrived. Leaning over the table, he narrows his eyes at Trent, whose piercing blue eyes flash back as Trent leans forward too.
“Young man, watch your tone with me. You’re lucky we haven’t arrested you already—but you keep pushing your luck, and it’s going to break. Show a little respect.”
Trent tenses, and I have a momentary fear that he’s going to take a swing at the old cop. I take half a step forward, but Reese’s arms wrap around me from behind.
“It’ll be okay, Ems,” he murmurs in my ear, his citrus scent calming my frayed nerves as he pulls me back against him. “He’s not stupid. Trent’s got a fucking temper on him, but he wouldn’t do anything that dumb, not with all of us here.”
His voice is low, the words meant only for me, and I grip his forearm like a lifeline as I watch the scene in front of me play out.
Trent isn’t dumb. And whatever messed up, complicated feelings might exist between us, I know he wouldn’t want to put me or his best friends in danger of arrest.
But still, worry pricks at me like a hundred tiny pins.
Because I’ve been on the receiving end of Trent’s righteous anger before, and when he thinks someone has wronged him, he doesn’t let go of that for a long time.