"Wes?" Lilly hesitantly addresses their friend.
There is rustling in the background. "I'm here. What's up, Lil?"
"Um, have you heard from King since they left?" We know the answer, yet a sliver of hope in me wants to believe that this is all a bad dream.
The silence on the other end is like a knife plunging into my gut, twisting to inflict the most damage.
"No. Why?" His tone is low.
"They're not at The Club." Lilly inhales. "J said the BMW has been at the same intersection for twenty minutes," she supplies carefully.
"What intersection?" Wes's agitation spikes my own adrenaline.
"We're already on the way," I insert. Taking charge distracts me from the flickering images assaulting my mind's eye: Ken lying in the road, Denielle submerged in her bathtub.
No one speaks as I navigate the SUV through the streets.
"What?" Rhys suddenly exclaims.
My gaze jerks to Lilly in the rearview mirror, finding her focus trained on the screen.
"Dude, spit it out. You're scaring me," Rhys shouts, and the girls in the back seat wince at the outburst. Everyone is on the verge of hysterics, with Lilly's husband about to cross the line.
"King is pregnant," Wes announces in an oddly robotic tone.
Ethan whips around in his seat, and I watch Lilly's free hand fly to her mouth. My jaw locks. This just got way more serious.
"We're almost the—" I turn onto Second Avenue, and the word gets lodged in my throat.
"Oh no," Elle breathes out.
"Fuck," Ethan curses.
"What's going on? Calla, talk to me," Rhys demands. "It's okay, man. Everything is fine," he calms his friend. "Calla, tell me that everyone is okay."
I hit the brakes right behind one of the cruisers, its flashing lights still on. I dive out of my seat before Ethan can reach for the handle.
My ankle rolls as I trip over a curb, looking for someone with answers, yet I don't feel anything. My pulse pumps terror through my veins. The BMW is a mangled hunk of metal. The entire passenger side is pushed in, as if it has been T-boned by a semi. The airbags are out and deflated. Some of them show tears.
They cut the nylon to get to the passengers.
"HEY!" I yell at one of the cops, who turns and is most likely going to tell me to get lost until his eyes land on Lilly. She's on my heels, and we face off with the man. She is a known individual for many reasons, and clearly, the guy recognizes her.
My lips part, but she beats me to it.
"What happened here?" Everything slows down as we wait for his reply. She puts her hand on my forearm—her signal to let her do the talking.
My airways are too tight, my temper wearing thin. Lilly has slipped into her other persona, the one she uses when dealing with public matters or her board members. I pride myself on my control, the ability to do my job under any circumstance. Falling for Denielle was not something I ever expected, let alone handling her being taken from me like Ken. No, not like Ken. Denielle is not dead. She can't be.
"Mrs. McGuire. We, uh…we just ran the license plate." He's visibly confused about how we got here so fast.
"This is my husband's car," she states calmly, her fingers warming my skin where she holds on to me. "He was not driving it, though. A friend borrowed it tonight."
"Calla, what the fuck is going on?" Rhys's faraway voice draws everyone's attention to the phone in Lilly's hand.
She ignores her husband and hands the device to Ethan, who materializes out of nowhere. He disconnects the speaker and stalks away.
The cop peers over at one of the firefighters. "There were no direct witnesses. However, we got a call from someone walking their dog a block away. The caller reported that he witnessed three individuals being taken from the car and loaded into the vehicle that had run into them."