“Do what?” I follow, towering over her. The buzzing fills my ears. I feel as if my skull will explode from the pressure. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Why do you take it personally? I didn’t do anything to upset you—”

“Get out,” I hear myself say. “Just go.”

Her eyes shimmer, and for a moment I think she’ll cry, but then she lifts her chin and leaves, threading through the chairs and tables.

I groan and sink into a chair. There’s a pain in my chest I don’t understand. I rub my hand over my heart.

What the fuck just happened?

***

“He’s gonna be just fine,” the doctor says as we stand around Seth’s narrow bed in the ward. “We’ll monitor him tonight and expect to release him tomorrow.”

Zane is lounging against the wall, chewing on a toothpick. “Hear that, buddy? You’re gonna be pissing blood for a while, but otherwise you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

Seth grunts from the bed. He looks like hell. Two black eyes, his nose broken and bandaged, stitches on his swollen jaw and a sling for his dislocated shoulder. Nothing they can do for the cracked ribs.

Anger flares inside me, burning hot. He’s lucky he got off without a concussion or damaged organs.

Shane is sitting on the bed, his long hair loose on his back. He hasn’t spoken a word since his cousin was brought in and patched up. Sometimes I really worry about that guy.

The doctor leaves and quiet settles in the room.

“Don’t worry, Seth, they didn’t mess up your pretty face too much,” Jesse says and grins. “Guess I should go, let you rest. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I should go, too,” Ocean says, raking a hand through his blue hair. “Gotta open Damage, see if I can salvage any of the appointments.”

“Coming with you,” Zane mutters. “Call us if you need us.”

I watch them go. I know I should follow—I’m not an apprentice like Jesse, Shane and Seth. The shop needs me—but I can’t, not yet.

“You sure you didn’t see their faces or any other clue?” Jesse asks again, and I wait for Seth to grunt again and glare. After all, we’ve asked this question like ten thousand times already.

But instead he does something weird. His dark eyes flick to me, and his forehead creases. “Micah,” he rasps, “why don’t you go? I’ll be fine here with the guys.”

“It’s okay,” I say.

“Seriously. Just go.”

The alarm bells are back in my head, deafening. Seth and I aren’t best friends, but we live in the same apartment, and we look out for each other. Always have. Until now. “I’m good.”

He closes his eyes for a second, looking exhausted. Does he really want me to go? Is he hiding something from me?

Dammit, I don’t need more bad shit today. “Spit it out, Seth. I’m not in the mood for games.”

“And you think I am?” He opens his eyes but doesn’t look at me.

“You know something. Who beat you up?” I stand at the foot of the bed, scowling at him.

He sighs. “Promise that you—any of you—won’t go on a rampage to avenge me or some such shit. I’m alive, and I’m fine. Promise me.”

I exchange a look with Jesse. Shane isn’t meeting my gaze. Fuck this.

“Who was it, Seth?” I fold my arms over my chest.

He scowls back, obviously not missing the fact we didn’t promise him anything.

We wait him out. I can see he needs to talk about it in the way his hands clench and unclench on the bed. But I don’t expect what he says, not one bit.

“Evangeline.” Seth breathes out slowly.

“What did you say?” I must be going mad. That’s not her name he spoke. Or maybe it’s another Evangeline. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“After they beat me up,” Seth says, “they told me, ‘this is from Blake. This is for Evangeline.’ And they laughed.”

The world goes gray for a second. “Are you sure?” I ask and my voice sounds hollow and thin in my ears. “Are you sure they said that?”

“I’m sure,” Seth says, and that’s it.

I’m gonna fucking lose it. This Blake had people beat up Seth for Ev, my Ev? Because she was afraid of Seth?

“Micah…” Seth’s voice seems distant.

Blake. Her ex-boyfriend. Or maybe not so ex?

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I realize I’ve been backtracking when I hit the wall. This can’t be happening. Ev was the one person I believed in. This is my fault. I chose to ignore the clues, thought she’d explain her fears. That she’d be honest with me.

Oh God, not Ev. Not this.

I distantly hear someone calling my name. Seth. Or Jesse.

Not now. Can’t deal. I open the door and stagger out. I’ve no idea where I’m going or what I’m gonna do.

And it doesn’t matter one fucking bit.

***

I walk the streets like a ghost. I pass through my usual haunts, and I hear people greet me, but I have no voice left in me. No coherent thought.

Ev.

Could I be wrong? Could there be a misunderstanding? Didn’t she say she was scared of her ex-boyfriend? Was that a lie?

Or was it the truth? Am I missing something, a big fat clue staring me in the face?

I finally end up at Damage, and Zane gives me a wary look from his booth as I enter, half-frozen and numb. He talks to me, but I can’t make out the words.

I grab my tools and turn to look at the reception desk, trying to remember what I’m supposed to be doing here—then Zane takes my arm and shoves me out of the shop.

“Go home,” he says, sounding as tired as I feel. “Get your head straight. No inking when you’re lost inside your mind, fucker.”

Maybe he’s right, but I could have used the distraction. So instead I walk more. I walk and walk, trying to feel something, anything. Even my anger has leeched away, leaving behind an aching cold.

Don’t trust anyone. Don’t believe things will turn out all right. Don’t expect anything. Not if you want to survive and remain sane.

Night has fallen, thick and heavy. The air smells of rain, and then it comes, pelting down, drenching me to the bone, and still I barely feel it. The wet only adds to the cold inside, filling me up with nothingness until I’m close to bursting. Like a balloon. Like a soap bubble.

This doesn’t feel real. I’m not really here. I don’t know where I am.

I glance around and try to orient myself. The rain is like a great plastic curtain, blurring the streets and buildings. I think I’m not far from home, and I force my steps that way. A wind whips down the street. My teeth are chattering. A coughing fit grips my chest, and I bend over, hacking.

“Micah?” a woman calls. “Micah!”

Goddammit, I’ve really gone around the bend. I’m hearing voices. She really sounds like…

Ev. I straighten. She’s hurrying over to me, her hair plastered to her face, her eyes luminous in the faint light from the lamppost overhead.

“What are you doing here?” I demand, my voice hoarse and my head throbbing.

“I need to talk to you.”

I want to yell at her, shove her away—but her face is so sad I just can’t. Besides, I don’t feel the anger. The cold has filled me from side to side.

She seems to sense something is off because she tilts her head to the side and studies me for a long moment. A frown creases her brow, and she reaches for me. Her fingers close around my bicep.

“I reported him,” she says. “To the police. Not sure what they can do, but maybe if Seth can testify… Maybe they can get him.”

I stare at her, uncomprehending. I lift a hand to her face, and it’s shaking like an old man’s. My nails are a deep shade of blue. Pretty color.

“Shit, you’re freezing,” she hisses, and it’s funny that she cusses like this. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her cuss.

I chuckle and brush my hand over her smooth cheek. She flinches, and my grin falls.

“Micah.” She takes my hand and her touch burns. “You’re ice-cold. Let’s get you inside.”

“Gonna save me again?” I whisper.

She doesn’t reply. Maybe she hasn’t heard. She’s tugging on my hand toward what I realize is my building. It was closer than I thought.