Mr. Delacroix swallows so hard I can see his Adam’s apple move up and down. “No,” he says. “We’re just here to protect our property.”
“Good,” King says. “Do you have guns?”
“I have a concealed carry permit,” Mr. Delacroix says. “I’ve got a handgun and a couple hunting rifles in the back.”
“Get them,” King says.
“Are we in danger?” Mr. Delacroix asks, frowning and shifting closer to his little brother.
“I think it’s safe to assume Royal came to confront our father—Tony Dolce, if you’re not familiar. What he’s doing here, I don’t know. So, take necessary precautions or stay out here.”
Mr. Delacroix goes to get the guns, and King turns to the rest of us. “There are twelve of us, so that means we split into three teams of four and fan out. Darlings, take the northwest corridor. You’ve got two guns. Dolces will take the east wing—we’ve got two guns as well. Delacroixs, take Gloria and Harper with you to check the southwest wing. We’re going to get Royal back just fine. No casualties today.”
He nods at me, and then turns to take his group toward the doors.
Mr. Delacroix holds out one of the rifles toward me and Lo.
“Know how to shoot?” I ask Gloria.
She snorts. “Please. You’re not the only girl who grew up in the South.”
“Take it,” I say, holding up both hands. “I’m better with my fists, anyway.”
We cross the lot under the low, churning clouds and cluster around the doors to the food court while Mr. Delacroix unlocks it. Lightning flickers in the clouds, but inside the mall is pitch dark.
“Can I go with Harper’s group?” Colt asks. “My money’s on her in any fight.”
“You can have my gun,” Magnolia says. “As long as you let me use the cigar cutter once you shoot him.”
Duke scoots away from her, pulling his beanie down over his ears and scowling at her.
“Stay with your group,” King says.
He steps inside first, insisting on checking it out before giving us the all-clear a few minutes later. Adrenaline pumps through me as I step through the doors into the darkness within. I turn on my phone’s flashlight and cast the beam around the huge room when I see others doing the same. The food court is empty, the tables and chairs gone and all the booths around the edges boarded up and empty. I slide along one side, past the stir-fry place that Lauren liked and the sandwich place that gave us free refills on drinks if we flirted enough. There’s the stall that sold pizza by the slice and still smells like it even though it’s closed, and the smoothie station where I went with Gloria last year.
Then we step into a long, dark corridor. Our lights reflect off the glass fronts of the stores, casting eerie shadows and making me squint when they hit my eyes.
“This is creepy as hell,” Gloria whispers beside me, carrying the rifle over her shoulder like a hunter. Our footsteps and whispers echo down the corridor and off the ceiling. I can hear footsteps from far off, too, but I can’t tell where they’re coming from. A long rumble of thunder builds outside, the kind that sounds like something ominous is approaching.
“We’ll check the left side,” I say to the Delacroixs. “You check the stores on the right. Anyone who finds anything, whistle, and we’ll come to you.”
“Should we call for Royal?” Gloria asks. “Or be quiet?”
“They’ll see us coming,” I point out.
Gloria calls out, her voice echoing through the silence, sounding small and shrill. She giggles nervously. “You do it.”
About halfway down our corridor, there’s a short side hallway that used to have massage chairs and then a circle of benches in front of a restaurant on one side, a hair salon next to it, and a four-screen movie theater that always smelled like piss from all the parents bringing their kids for matinees.
“What if they pass the end of the hall while we’re down this way?” Gideon asks, shining his light down the side hallway and then straight ahead again. Footsteps sound in the hall behind us, and I spin around. A light shines straight in my eyes, blinding me to the figure beyond.
“King sent us to check out the movie theater and restaurant area,” Baron says, not lowering his light until he’s so close I could practically knock it out of his hand.
“Why?” I ask.
Despite our earlier truce, I trust Baron about as much as I like him.
He shrugs. “Call and ask him. He probably forgot about that part of the mall. He only lived in this town for a year.”