Sam’s POV
I never thought I’d spend a Friday night sitting on the rooftop of Cassie’s painfully luxurious apartment complex, surrounded by the people who once almost broke me, while planning to hunt down a sociopath and his mysterious partner.
But here we are.
“Alright, ground rules,” Cassie said, clapping her hands like we were about to play charades instead of get murdered in our sleep. “One—no secrets. Two—we stick together. Three—Rhia, please don’t scream if you see dust.”
Rhia, who sat on one of Cassie’s velvet cushions with a cashmere blanket wrapped around her like a queen in exile, rolled her eyes so hard I swear she pulled a neck muscle.
“I don’t scream at dust,” she hissed. “I react—because some of us weren’t raised in a barn. Besides, I brought my own alcohol wipes.”
Eli snorted. “You brought wipes to a war council?”
“She brings wipes to cafés, Eli,” I muttered under my breath.
Cassie sighed dramatically, like she was about to launch into a TED Talk on how to survive when your former enemy becomes your bestie again. “Anyway! Can we focus on not dying for five minutes?”
“Right,” Eli nodded. “Back to Seth.”
That name dropped like a weight in the middle of us.
Three months ago, I would’ve walked away at the sound of it.
But now?
Now, I wanted to burn his world down before he touched mine again.
Rhia sat up a bit straighter, eyes sharp under the moonlight. “It’s not just him. I said it before—he’s not working alone.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Cassie said, tapping her chin with a glittery pen. “Seth’s smart, but he’s not that smart. The tech, the access, the blackmail—it’s too clean. Too planned. He’s got someone who knows how to cover tracks.”
“I hate this,” I muttered, hugging my knees. “I hate that we don’t know who. I hate that he still has control. And I hate—” I glanced at Eli, who looked down at his shoes—“that I still feel so broken when I should be angry.”
“You’re allowed both,” Cassie said quietly, her eyes kind and serious. “You can be healing and still want revenge. That’s what makes you human.”
“You make it sound poetic,” I said.
“Everything sounds poetic with an iced coffee and rooftop lighting,” Rhia muttered, inspecting her manicured nails. “Except rats. Rats are never poetic.”
Eli finally looked up. “I’ve been digging around. I still have friends from... you know, before everything went to hell. One of them mentioned someone—goes by the name ‘Ash.’ Quiet. Smart. They’re never seen, but things move when they want them to.”
“Ash?” I repeated. “That sounds fake.”
“Almost like Seth himself,” Cassie said. “He has ten fake names in his inbox. ‘Tyrone,’ ‘Benjamin,’ even ‘Sponge-Bob_94.’”
I snorted. “Wow. Real criminal mastermind.”
“Okay, but that proves it,” Rhia chimed in, finally moving from her princess position. “He’s not alone. This ‘Ash’ person? It makes sense. The question is... why? What’s the goal?”
“To destroy us,” Eli said bluntly.
“No offense,” Cassie said, “but we’re not exactly world leaders.”
“But we’re connected,” I realized. “All of us... through me.”
The air went still.
“I was the thread,” I said, voice soft but clear. “You, Cassie. You, Eli. Rhia. Everything comes back to what happened to me.”
“That’s why,” Rhia whispered, and for once, she sounded afraid. “Seth didn’t care who he had to ruin—so long as he ruined you.”
I felt like vomiting.
But Cassie stood up. “Then we give him nothing else. No fear. No tears. We give him the war he asked for.”
“I like this version of you,” I said, managing a small smile. “Strong. Sassy. Slightly terrifying.”
“Thank you,” she curtsied dramatically. “I try.”
“I’ll keep tracking everything he posts,” Eli said. “There’s a pattern forming, I just haven’t cracked it yet. But I will.”
“And I’ll help with the people angle,” Rhia sighed. “Ugh, social networking with disgusting humans. My nightmare.”
“You sure you can handle that?” I teased.
She smirked. “Sweetheart, I talk to influencers daily. This? Child’s play.”
We all laughed for a second. A real laugh.
And in that moment, something shifted.
We were no longer broken pieces trying to figure out where we belonged.
We were a team.
Mismatched, messed-up, overly dramatic...
But a team.