Chapter 2: The Broken Note: Chapter 2

I call Dutch.

Not because I want to.

In fact, he’s the absolute last person I wish to talk to right now.

Especially after… that night.

But I don’t have a choice.

My sister is missing.

“Have you seen Viola?” I cry, trying to keep my voice steady and failing.

Night has fallen. The shadows are thick around my neighborhood. Dark clouds choke out the stars so all I can see when I lift my head is a heavy smog.

“Vi? No.” He sounds surprised.

“If you see her, call me right away,” I beg. I’m frantic. Desperate. It escapes in my voice, but I don’t even care.

My sister is missing.

Four hours ago, Viola thought mom was dead. Now, mom is walking, talking and turning our lives upside down like she used to.

I don’t know what an impulsive teenager reeling with shock, anger, and frustration might do.

Scream?

Rage?

Throw a tantrum?

Fine.

She can do all that.

me me.

I don’t care.

I just don’t want her to get hurt.

My sister is the most important person in the world to me. If I lose her, no—I won’t think like that.

If even the smallest hair on her head is harmed, it’ll be my fault.

“Please,” I add. My fingers tremble and the cell phone almost slips out of my hand. “Please. If she calls you, tell me.”

“Brahms, where are you?” Dutch’s voice is velvet-steel.

My heart pounds.

My head is swimming.

There’s a relentless and pulsing fear blossoming in my stomach. Every part of me is aching with anxiety.

“Cadence!” Dutch calls my name more forcefully.

I snap back to myself.

“I’m…” I inhale a shaky breath. “I’m in front of the convenience store in my neighborhood.”

“Stay there.”

My eyebrows tighten and I straighten instantly. “I’m not staying here. I need to find my sister.”

“Damn it, Cadey. I want to help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“And I don’t give a damn. I’m coming to get you. Don’t fight me on this.” I hear a door creak open and shut. A moment later, Dutch’s low murmur is met with another voice.

One of his brothers?

My phone buzzes with a text.

I hang up and eagerly check it.

It’s not Viola.

I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut, struggling to keep myself together. The world is tilting at the edges, crackling like paper held to the flame.

Disintegrating.

Bit by bit.

My options are dwindling. Vi isn’t at the mall—possibly her most favorite place in the world. Or the park. Or the library. If she isn’t with any of her friends, with Breeze or with her new buddies The Kings then…

I don’t know.

I’ve hit a brick wall.

Tears of frustration press against my eyes.

My feet hurt. I’ve been walking for hours, wondering if maybe Vi is hiding out right in our neighborhood.

She dropped her cell phone in the doorway earlier and she doesn’t have a lot of money. At least, not enough to go too far.

But being close to home brings its own problems.

Now that night is falling, those who like to play in the dark will be creeping out of their holes. Gunshots. Casualties. There’s no need to be humane when the sun goes down and your sins are hidden in the black.

If Vi runs into some thugs looking for trouble—

My stomach feels sick.

I ignore my aching feet and jog forward, heading away from the light of the convenience store and turning down a dark alley.

I slip out of the alley’s mouth and notice a group of guys hanging out at the corner of the street. Cigarette smoke blows from their lips and they laugh loudly.

Alarm bells clang in my head. I eye the group warily. I can tell, just from a look, that they’re dangerous. Hardened eyes. Hardened smiles. Criminals with no sensibilities.

Fear trips through my veins.

I turn the other way, knowing better than to cross their path.

The streetlamp overhead flickers as I quicken my pace.

Footsteps thump behind me.

Damn it.

My body coils.

Fight or flight instincts rear to attention.

I dig my fingers into my skirt and increase my speed.

Answering footsteps quicken right behind me.

My heart flogs my ribs and I bite down on my bottom lip to quiet my rising panic. Self-preservation roars inside me.

I swallow hard as I pat my skirt down.

Nothing.

All I brought when I tearfully fled the apartment was my cell phone.

I cast my eyes to the ground, looking for a brick or a rock that I can grab and wield, but there’s nothing. Not even a beer bottle that I can smash into their heads.

A tall shadow spills in front of me, indicating that my stalker is getting closer.

My shoulders wind up to my ears.

I can’t get dragged away.

Not when I still haven’t found Viola.

The shadow extends. My pursuer is about to grab me.

I wait until he puts a hand on my shoulder and then I shove my arm back with incredible force. The bony point of my elbow connects with his stomach.

His grip on me weakens. I hear his soft grunt, but I don’t wait around to assess the damage. My pumps slam against the ground as I take off.

I’m focused on making it to the bus stop ahead, when I feel a hand close around my wrist. I’m propelled in a sharp turn and, a minute later, I’m slammed against the side of a brick building.

Adrenaline courses through my veins when I feel a body covering mine. I fight like an animal, but something inside makes me pause. Strange. My attacker smells like Dutch. And his long, muscular frame feels like Dutch too.

My body adjusts under him, fitting into the places it had found that night. The night Dutch took off his clothes. The night he made me see stars.

It’s familiar. This strength. These sinewy muscles.

I spot the tattoos creeping up tan skin and into the sleeve of a white T-shirt.

Unnerved, I lift my head and startle at a pair of glowing amber eyes hovering in front of my face.

“Dutch?” I breathe out.

Dutch’s nostrils flare. Full lips are slightly open, releasing a sharp, panting breath. His blond hair is wind-torn. His eyes hauntingly beautiful.

“I told you to stay put,” he growls.

My eyes bug.

“What if it wasn’t me who was following you? What if it was someone with bad intentions?”

“When have you ever had good intentions toward me?” I snap. As my mind clears and the panic gives way to embarrassment, I can’t help lashing out.

He distracts me.

Undoes me.

I’m worried about my sister and yet, with Dutch so close, my thoughts are getting cloudy.

His warm breath fans my face. Despite the anger in his tone, I sense genuine worry lurking beneath his stony expression.

“You’re killing me, Brahms,” he murmurs. To my surprise, he gently brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “Damn it.”

Extra footsteps thunder towards us.

Zane and Finn sprint into view. They’re not alone.

Sol is with them too. His eyes lock on mine and something strange passes through his expression. He looks heavy. Guilty. A little unhinged.

My gaze returns to Dutch. “What are you all doing here?”

“It’s not to see the sights, obviously,” Zane says, running a hand through his hair.

“We’re here to help,” Finn adds. His voice is deep and calm as always.

Dutch steps back and allows me to detach myself from the wall. His jaw muscles clench with determination when he growls, “We’re here to find your sister.”