Leaning forward, I braced my elbows on my knees and let my head hang. My eyes were closed as I focused on my breathing, but behind my eyelids I could see every moment of the fight. Every movement I’d made and every attack they’d launched replayed in my mind with stark clarity as if in slow motion. The knife had come so close to me. If I hadn’t reacted fast enough, if I’d faltered for even a moment, I would be bleeding out on the floor of the parking deck right now.

  The difference between life and death could literally be measured in inches. If I had died today, nothing would be fixed.

  With a deep breath, I managed to sit upright. My shaking had lessened, but not completely disappeared, and I fumbled with my cellphone when I pulled it from my pocket. It was here that I found another annoyance. Sometime during my scuffle with the thugs, the screen of my phone had cracked. It still worked, but it was an eyesore.

  Ignoring it for now, I dialed a familiar number. I’d specifically refused to add the number to my list of contacts to keep myself from calling it so easily, but that didn’t stop me from memorizing it.

  Anticipation gripped my heart when the call started ringing. However, after only one ring, the call went silent. I tried texting the number instead, just simply saying hello. I immediately received a big red “undelivered” notification.

  It was as I expected. My number was still blocked. I don’t know why I expected anything different. I’d been blocked for five years now, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon.

  Not until I made things right.

  Looking down at my phone, a strange idea came to me. My phone was cracked. Getting it repaired would be just as much hassle as simply getting a new one. If I did get a new phone, I could use the opportunity to change my number.

  Then I wouldn’t be blocked any more, and my messages would finally go through.

  For one, desperate moment, I actually considered it.

  But then the moment passed, and the insane idea disappeared as quickly as it had come. That line of communication was closed to me. It would be cruel to force it open again. At best, I’d be able to get one message through before the new number was blocked as well. I would gain nothing and would probably ruin any chance I had to make things right in the process.

  Letting the phone slip through my fingers, it landed hard on the floor. The crack spread farther and the whole screen turned to colorful static.

  Total death.

  CHAPTER 3

  Jordy

  Clay’s fingers bit into my wrist hard enough to bruise as he desperately held onto me. I could see his arms shaking from the strain of holding my weight. There was no way he was going to be able to pull me up onto the safety of the roof.

  “Clay,” I said again when I felt his grip slide a bit on my wrist. “It’s okay. You can let go.”

  “Fuck off,” Clay spat out through gritted teeth. “I’m not... will you fucking help me!”

  I jerked in surprise when he suddenly shouted, nearly pulling myself free from Clay’s grip by accident.

  At first, I thought he was talking to me, demanding that I do something, but what could I do?

  My feet scraped against the wall, unable to find anything to brace against, and I was too far from the top of the roof for my other hand to reach.

  From out of nowhere, a second pair of hands suddenly grabbed onto my arm. These hands were bigger than Clay’s, gripping all the way around my forearm. Someone else had joined Clay, though I couldn’t see who it was as my face was mostly pressed against the wall.

  Clay and the other person worked together to haul me back over the edge of the roof, their hands grabbing at my shoulders, my waist, anywhere they could reach. It was the first time in my life I didn’t mind being pawed at, and I gasped in relief when my feet finally touched something solid.

  My whole body shook with adrenaline. I had no hope of supporting my own weight and sunk to my knees the second I was safe. For one crazy moment, I was struck with the urge to kiss the concrete floor of the roof, but then I remembered how dirty it was, and the urge faded.

  It took me a minute to catch my breath. It felt like I’d run a marathon, though it had probably been less than five minutes since I came up to the roof.

  As Clay and the other man waited for me to recover, a whispered conversation passed between them.

  “Did you catch whoever pushed him off?”

  “No. They were already halfway down the fire escape before we got here. I barely even got a look at their face. At this point, I couldn’t even tell you if it was a man or a woman.”

  Great. So, I hadn’t imagined the shove I felt against my back. Someone actually tried to kill me just now.

  When I could finally see straight again, and I no longer felt like I was going to throw up, I looked up into the face of my saviors. Clay knelt next to me with a concerned hand on my shoulders, while beside him stood another man I recognized.

  “Lo—” My voice cracked, and I had to cough several times before trying again.

  “Logan Hollingsworth. What are you doing here?” I looked toward Clay. “What are either of you doing here?”

  With a sympathetic smile, Clay helped me to my feet. “We’re here for you.”

  Fuck, the man was pretty. I didn’t personally find him attractive—I’d never actually found anyone attractive, which my therapists said was normal for someone in my situation—but I could appreciate beauty when I saw it. Even scuffed up, with a smudge of dirt on his cheek, Clay glowed with health and vitality.

  The little green-eyed monster of jealousy gnawed at my heart again, which I furiously ignored.

  “Me? For me? You’re here for me?” I shook my head. “Why are you here for me?”

  I must have sounded like an idiot repeating myself so many times like that, but if there was ever a time that sounding like an idiot was appropriate, it was now. I’d just nearly died. Give me a break.

  Clay and Logan shared a look, communicating without saying a word. I wasn’t sure how long the two of them had been together, but it must have been a while for them to have developed such instinctual communication.

  With a slight nod, Logan took over the conversation for the both of them.

  “Have you been keeping track of the bell ringer case?”

  That name again.

  Why was that name coming up so many times today?

  Hearing about it on the news was bad enough, but to be confronted with it directly left me shaking from a whole new wave of adrenaline.

  “Not really. Honestly, I don’t want to think about it too much, but I heard that the trial has been put on hold.”

  Clay’s hand settled easily on Logan’s hip, like that spot had been made specifically as a place to rest his palm.

  The sight of it, this casual intimacy that seemed to come so easily for them, distracted me so much that I almost missed what Logan said next.

  “Technically, it’s on hold, but if we don’t come up with some more evidence, we’re probably going to lose the case.”

  “Well, we also lost our lawyer,” Clay added. “That’s a problem, too.”

  Logan’s hand covered Clay’s on his hip. “Actually, I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet, but I just got a call from Sebastian. Looks like we’ve got a lawyer, after all.”

  “Really?” Clay’s voice was excited, but a hint of skepticism remained. “Just like that? Where’d we get a lawyer from so suddenly?”

  “Apparently, someone volunteered. I don’t know the details. The others will tell us more about it when we get back.”

  “Um…” I hesitated to interrupt them, but they seemed to be getting off track, and none of this was answering my questions. “I’m glad to hear you’ve got a lawyer now, but what does that have to do with me? Why are you here? Not that I’m not grateful for you saving me, but shouldn’t you be focusing on your case?”

  Clay’s hand, the one that wasn’t glued to Logan’s hip, rested gently against my arm. Halfway between shoulder and elbow, the gesture was less intimate than if he’d touched my shoulder, but at the same time it was also softer and more comforting. The combination was strange, as if he were both pushing me away and pulling me closer at the same time.

  “It’s not just our case,” Clay said, keeping his voice as soft as his touch. “It’s your case as well. It’s the case of everyone who was victimized by those monsters. The bell ringers have to pay for what they’ve done, so they can never hurt anyone again, but to do that we need more evidence. We need... we need more witnesses to come forward.”

  Off in the distance, a car horn blared loud enough to make me jump. My nerves were already shot, and the sudden noise put me on the defensive. I instinctively looked around for any threats, and my attention zeroed in on the ground below.

  Six stories was a long way to fall. Far enough to reach terminal velocity, which meant that it was almost guaranteed to be lethal.

  Someone had tried to make me take that fall. They wanted to kill me, and it almost worked.

  Rage coated the back of my throat with a hot metallic taste so thick I nearly choked on it.

  I slapped Clay’s hand away.

  “You brought them here.”

  “Jordy,” Clay started to say, reaching for me again, but I cut him off.

  “No, fuck off. They must have known you were coming here. That’s why someone just tried to kill me.” I pointed at Logan. “Hell, they probably know I helped this guy find you in the first place. You’ve practically painted a target on my back.”

  My voice shook, and my legs nearly gave out under me as the implication of what I was saying hit me all at once.

  It was too many emotions to process. I was angry, but also so very scared. I wanted to scream and cry at the same time.

  Clay reached for me again, looking like he was about to cry himself, but I pulled away from him. I fisted my hands in my newly dyed hair as I fought back the tears.

  “No. I was done. I graduated. Two years I’ve been here, like a broken and discarded toy that needed to be pieced back together. I’m finally putting it behind me and moving on with my life. You’re not pulling me back into this mess.”

  To his credit, Clay didn’t try to touch me again. His voice shook, but he still stood firm as he faced me, confident in himself.

  “Look, Jordy, I know it’s difficult, but⁠—”

  “No, you don’t,” I cut him off again. Not even sure what I intended to say, I just waved wildly in his direction, encompassing him from head to toe. “Look at you. A family that never stopped looking for you. A partner that supports you. It’s easy to move on when you’ve got so many people in your corner, but not all of us are so lucky.”

  It was clear that Clay tried to hide his reaction, but I still saw the way he flinched. My words had hurt him.

  I should have felt guilty, and I probably would once I calmed down enough to think clearly. At the moment, however, all I felt was satisfaction.

  Good. Let him be hurt. Then at least my misery wouldn’t be alone.

  The callous thought took me by surprise, and I found that I couldn’t bear to face Clay directly. Turning away from him, I braced my hands on the wall around the edge of the roof, staring down at the six-story fall that had nearly killed me.

  I almost wished it had succeeded.

  “I don’t remember anything from before the b—” My voice caught in my throat.

  Damn. That name was still so hard to say.

  Clenching my hand into a fist, I braced myself and forced my lips to bend around that hated word.

  “I don’t remember anything before the bell ringers took me. All my life, I did whatever they told me. I put on a smile. I didn’t complain. I even fucking pretended to like what those bastards did to me.”

  Something wet hit my fist. Without realizing it, the tears I’d been holding back had started dripping down my face to water the concrete below me. A few even fell over the edge of the roof, landing on the street far below.

  “I did all that so they wouldn’t see me as a threat. All for the desperate hope that they’d let me live. And it worked. I got away from them. I survived. I’ve even managed to finally get to a good place, and I did it all on my own.”

  I hated crying. My cheeks burned hot, and it felt like my eyes had been coated in a layer of gravel. Wiping the moisture from my cheeks, I bit back a new wave of tears and turned to face Clay and Logan.

  It was surprisingly easy to stop crying when I saw them standing there. The sight of their shock and distress caused new fury to well up in my stomach.

  What the hell did they have to be upset about?

  With my hands clenched at my side, and my face twisted into an expression that felt as terrifying as it looked, I stalked toward them.

  “What the hell was it all for? Huh? I submitted to every vile thing they did to me, all so I could avoid making an enemy of them. But now, nothing I did matters, because you decided to come here and paint a target on my back. So, no. I won’t be your witness. I’m done submitting to other people’s desires.”

  I clenched my fists so hard that I felt my nails break through the skin of my palm. They were already pretty scraped up from clinging to the side of the building earlier, and my entire hands were starting to hurt. I wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and pretended this whole, stressful day never happened.

  Without another word, I stormed past Clay and Logan and headed for the door leading back inside the building.

  “Jordy, wait,” Logan called after me. He was smart enough not to touch me, and didn’t even try to block my path.

  I could have easily ignored him, but something about the straightforward tone of his voice made me stop and listen. Logan was the one who’d brought me to the recovery center two years ago. I owed him this much, at least.

  “You’re right,” Logan said, running one nervous hand through his dark hair. “This isn’t fair to you, and I wish we didn’t need your help. But we do. I can’t do anything about what you’ve suffered in the past, but with your help, we can at least make sure no one else has to suffer the same way in the future.”

  He was so sincere that I almost wanted to agree with him. Looking at the detective up close, I could see why Clay had fallen for the man. His presence was strong, but comforting at the same time, as if he were capable of solving all life’s problems.

  But he wasn’t. That was the crux of the problem.

  “You’re a detective, right?” I asked, though my question was clearly rhetorical. “I heard you were specifically put in charge of the bell ringer case. That kind of promotion must mean that you’re good at your job.”

  My eyes met his only for a moment, before I had to look away again.

  “So, go do your job. Solve the case on your own. I shouldn’t have to do your job for you.”

  I wrenched open the door to the staircase, intending to disappear into the shelter of the building, when Logan’s hand suddenly blocked my path.

  “Wait. Here. Take this.”

  He held out a business card.

  I blinked at it for a moment but refused to touch it.

  “I’m not changing my mind.”

  “I know,” he rushed to say before I could start arguing again. “But please just take this, in case you need anything. Someone’s already tried to kill you once. I’ll feel better if I know you have a way to contact us, just in case anything else happens.”

  Sighing, I gave in and stuffed the card in my pocket. It was just a piece of paper and wasn’t worth fighting over.

  I could always throw it away later.

  Warmth washed over me as I descended the staircase. I hadn’t realized how cold I’d become out in the winter air. Feeling returned to my limbs with each step I took, and by the time I reached the main floor my blood was flowing normally again.

  Unfortunately, along with the warmth came pain. My palms and fingers had been scraped bloody raw. The injury had been easy to ignore when everything was numb from the cold, but now they were starting to sting pretty badly.

  Staring down at my abused hands, I debated what to do.

  I could just go back to my graduation party and pretend like nothing happened. Eventually, these injuries would heal on their own, and then I could forget I’d ever seen Clay or Logan.

  However, it looked like the party was already winding down. A handful of people still hung around the rec room to continue enjoying the decorations and finish off the last few pieces of cake, but the majority had already wandered off. Returning now would just feel depressing.

  Not to mention, I couldn’t stand the sight of the “Congratulations” banner hanging over the door. Just seeing it made my stomach churn and stopped me from setting foot in the room.

  I no longer felt so deserving of such praise.

  In the end, I turned away from the remains of my party and headed to the nurse’s office. I told myself that it was just because my wounds needed treatment. The roof was an unsanitary place, and the scrapes on my hands could easily get infected if not treated right away.

  But I knew it was a lie. I would have taken any excuse to avoid the remnants of my celebration.

  There was always a nurse on staff at the facility. Even in the middle of the night, the lights remained on in the nurse’s office, and there was always at least one person to greet you.

  So, I was surprised to find it open but empty.

  Well, now what?

  I stood in the empty nurse’s office, looking at the bare white cot and the multitude of locked medicine cabinets, wondering what to do next.

  The nurse must have been called away for something. They would probably be back soon, since the nurse’s office was never left unmanned for long, but I didn’t want to wait. My hands were really starting to hurt.

  Maybe I could find another member of staff to help me. After all, my injuries weren’t complicated. Anyone could apply some disinfectant and a bandage. Hell, I could easily do it myself, but the medical supplies were all locked up tight.