The Moth and the Flame (When Rivals Play Book 2)

by B. B. Reid

  “How did he call you out?”

  “He asked me to weigh in on the topic.”

  I lifted a brow, knowing she made the teach sorry too. “Did you?”

  “I didn’t want to, and when he insisted, I told him it wasn’t anyone’s busy if he had a tiny penis, but to be safe, he should wear looser pants. Turns out it wasn’t the topic he meant.”

  She immediately braced for my scolding, but I was a statue. I had no idea what to think. Knowing Lou, she could be telling the truth, or she could be lying, so after a few seconds of indecision, I spun on my heel without a word and walked away. It was the smartest decision I’d made since the moment I decided to look after her two years ago.

  I felt her watching me as I headed for my car as quick as my feet would carry me. I shouldn’t have looked back, but she was a magnet, and I was powerless to her call. She looked remorseful, but I knew better than to think it was sincere. I smiled, a promise, and it hit its mark, unnerving her.

  Hopping in my car, I sped away before I could turn back. Lou was playing with fire, and it was only a matter of time before it engulfed us both.

  I WAS HUMMING FIREWORK BY Katy Perry and studying my paint-chipped toenails against the fluffy blue bathroom rug when my phone chirped. I knew by the chime who was texting, so I fished it out of the jeans pooled around my ankles and eagerly read the message.

  Wren: This isn’t over.

  I smirked even though he couldn’t see. It had been a couple of hours since he’d left, but I was clearly still on his mind.

  Then why’d you run away?

  Wren: Priorities, mouse.

  I poked my lip out. I thought he’d forgotten all about his little pet name.

  I’m not your priority?

  I held my breath as I watched the three dots move for some time only to be disappointed. He’d changed the subject.

  Wren: Where are you?

  Home.

  Where you left me.

  Wren: More specific than that.

  My heart took a few leaps of joy even as I frowned. The question had no relevance, which could only mean one thing. I’d unnerved him.

  Smiling, I texted back.

  Bathroom.

  I watched the dots move some more before I got a reply.

  Wren: Since when do you shower at night?

  My smile grew, feeling girlishly flattered that he knew my routine. It was true I preferred morning showers to showers at night, but some days required both.

  Not showering. :-)

  Wren: So you’re texting me while peeing?

  Not peeing. :D

  There was more dot watching.

  Wren: TMI, Lou.

  I shrugged as if he could see me.

  Besties tell each other everything.

  Just then, I heard Mrs. Henderson calling me for dinner.

  I now had a dilemma.

  If I ended the conversation first, Wren would think I was up to no good and barrage me with endless questions. Sometimes, I wondered if it was a ploy to keep me talking because he was too macho or afraid to admit when he needed me. When my phone chimed and I read his reply, I saw the perfect opportunity.

  Wren: We’re not those kinds of friends.

  Does that mean we’re the other kind?

  Wren: ?

  I gritted my teeth, knowing he was being coy. It didn’t matter when I was playing games of my own.

  The kinds with benefits.

  My heart was pumping a mile a minute when I hit send. Setting my phone down, I quickly cleaned up all the while listening for the chime signaling his reply.

  Just as I predicted, it never came.

  Wren’s natural response to any challenge was to fight, but when it came to our friendship, he always fled.

  Sometimes, I wondered if I’d mistaken curiosity for interest the night we met. The stalking that followed hadn’t helped matters, but perhaps I’d been naïve. Wren’s speed was someone like Samantha who had more legs and experience to offer than I did.

  By the time I made it downstairs, I’d completely lost my appetite.

  The ache in my stomach only worsened when I caught Mr. and Mrs. Henderson eyeing me nervously during dinner for the third time. When Mr. Henderson took a deep breath, I knew I wasn’t going to like hearing whatever was on their minds.

  “I have wonderful news,” he cheerfully announced. Mrs. Henderson couldn’t contain her sudden excitement, making it clear she’d already heard the news. “I’ve been offered the position of warden.”

  While the Hendersons celebrated, my mind raced as I waited for the other shoe to drop. A promotion meant more money, which they could certainly use, but it wasn’t a cause for the worry I’d glimpsed. Perhaps it meant the extra money the Henderson’s received for fostering me was no longer needed.

  “Does this mean I’m getting a raise in my allowance?” Eliza squealed, confirming part of my suspicions.

  Why keep an extra mouth around to feed if that mouth was always causing trouble? More than once, I’d put them in danger of facing severe consequences whenever I ran away, and they didn’t report it at Wren’s behest. In the five years since my parents abandoned me, I’d stayed in many shelters—some good, most bad—but living with the Hendersons had come closest to feeling like home. I’d built a wall around my heart, and while Wren held no qualms about forcing his way in, the Hendersons had been gentler and patient. A lot of good it did them. I’d had enough of being handled with kid gloves. My parents were also patient. I had enough of that, too.

  I no longer trusted kindness. How many people were kind because it was their true nature and not because they feared the consequences that honesty brings? How many have offered compassion only to rip out hearts when no one was looking?

  It’s the assholes who aren’t appreciated enough. At least you could count on them to look you in the eye and tell you what’s what.

  Despite my fears, I was happy for the Hendersons. They were good people who deserved more but found it in their hearts to be content with the little they had. No matter where I ended up, I wished them the world.

  “We’ll discuss that later,” Mr. Henderson patiently deflected. “There’s more you should know.” Mrs. Henderson reached across the table, and they joined hands. “The promotion requires that I relocate.”

  Eliza’s happy smile quickly fell as her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Okaaaay…so how far are we talking? Brooklyn? Long Island?” Light suddenly entered her eyes again. “Manhattan?” she squealed happily.

  “No, sweetie. Your father’s new job is in Austin.”

  “We’ll be leaving at the end of the year,” Mr. Henderson announced. There was a finality to it.

  “Texas?” Eliza yelled so loudly that even I was startled from my stupor. “But that’s on the other side of the country! I have a life here!”

  “Eliza, you’re only sixteen,” Mrs. Henderson chillingly reminded. “The life that your father and I gave you is a figment, which will end right here at this table if you continue to scream at your father in my house.”

  I was both impressed and a little shaken by Mrs. Henderson. She showed remarkable poise in the face of her daughter’s rage while Mr. Henderson was more contrite. He always had trouble telling Eliza no, whereas Mrs. Henderson was sterner in her rule.

  “I know you’re reluctant to leave your friends behind, but this move is good for our family. I’d no longer have to question if I’d be able to send my child to college,” he passionately argued.

  “But what about Lou? You’d just abandon her? And have you forgotten what God thinks of money? For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil,” she recited.

  My gaze cut her way, but she was too busy hurling Bible verses to notice. I knew deep down Eliza cared about what happened to me, but unlike God, I didn’t appreciate being used as a weapon.

  “Yes,” Mr. Henderson said, changing gears and addressing me with solemn eyes. “Lou, the decision to move did not come easy. We have come to care fo
r you very much even though,” he said with a small smile, “you’ve made it clear that you do not welcome our affection.”

  Guilt made me look away, but then Mrs. Henderson spoke, drawing my attention once more.

  “We spoke with your social worker about our options,” she informed me. “Taking you with us was our first choice, but Laura didn’t think it was the obvious choice.”

  “Or even possible,” Mr. Henderson added. “We’d have to adopt you legally, and because your parents may still be alive, the hoops we’d have to jump through would be considerable.”

  “But we’re willing to do it,” Mrs. Henderson rushed to add, “if you are.”

  The lump in my throat grew larger as the fist around my heart squeezed tighter. I had been wrong about losing a home, but I never expected this. I didn’t trust the hope I felt swelling in my chest, which was why I blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Why would you go through the trouble? I’ll be eighteen in four months.”

  “Because it’s not about delaying your independence,” Mrs. Henderson said. “It’s about having a family to call your own.”

  “For the rest of your life,” her husband added.

  I couldn’t take the hopeful look in their eyes, so I looked away. Unfortunately, my gaze locked with Eliza’s, whose overjoyed expression matched her parents. She seemed to have forgotten her anger over being uprooted.

  “We’d be sisters, Lou!”

  “Oh…” I was thrown off guard by Eliza’s sudden excitement. “Um…this is a lot to take in. Can I think about?” I requested while keeping my tone polite. They didn’t need to know that I’d already made up my mind. There was no way in hell I was moving across the country. I had a family once, and they abandoned me when I needed them most. My heart wasn’t capable of giving another family a chance to do the same. Even if I could find it in me to forgive my parents and move on, everything I needed was somewhere in this city—losing his soul at that very moment.

  The Hendersons were sound asleep when I crept down the stairs in the dead of night. The weight of my mother’s rucksack on my shoulders didn’t compare to my heavy heart, but I reminded myself I was doing this for them, too. Until tonight, I hadn’t realized how much I was hurting them by keeping my distance, or maybe I hadn’t been capable of caring until now. Starting tonight, I would no longer be a burden, and that was the best gift I could give to repay them for their kindness.

  I’d left a note this time—when I’d never bothered before—telling them not to wait for me. There was so much more I wanted to say, but I couldn’t risk giving them false hope. Instead, I finally gave them the push they needed to walk away. It wouldn’t be their fault. This was all on me.

  Reaching the front door, I didn’t dare breathe until I stepped into the cold night. Wren wasn’t going to be happy when he learned I ran away, but for once, I was going to save him the trouble of hunting me down.

  Unbeknownst to Wren, I’d learn his phone’s passcode recently and began accessing his location history, notating his more frequent destinations. I knew without a doubt that Wren was unaware of the feature, not only because his interest in technology was nonexistent but also because he would have deactivated it. With the lifestyle he led, he couldn’t afford to take chances. As his best friend, duty propelled me to enlighten him, but knowing it would come in handy one day, I selfishly withheld the knowledge. I just hoped it didn’t cost him one day.

  For now, I patted myself on the back for talking him into getting the iPhone. Before me, he had been content with his last phone—an ancient Android that could barely snap a decent picture.

  Fishing the wrinkled slip of notebook paper from my pocket, I studied the list of addresses I’d written down. It was easy to narrow down where to start since two of the listings belonged to the Hendersons and my school. The most peculiar, however, was the addresses out of the state. There was a town in New Jersey called Sunset Bay that he’d been visiting like clockwork every Sunday. However, the address in Connecticut was new. Every day for the last week, he’d gone to some town called Blackwood Keep, and my gut told me these visits were what kept him away.

  I studied the other three locations he frequented the most. The barbershop where we’d met was the only one I recognized. The second address was on Long Island while the last one was a mere blip in the mountains that drew my brows together.

  Figuring the barbershop was a long shot and the mountains too far to travel this time of night, I settled on Long Island.

  “It’s too dangerous, Lou. All it would take is you being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Shrugging off Wren’s warnings, I set off. Maybe I’d find trouble, or perhaps I’d finally find answers to the burning questions I had about Wren.

  I LOOKED OVER THE GROUP of fresh recruits who were hanging onto my every word with a mixture of fear and awe. Their ages ranged wide with the youngest being no more than ten or eleven. I barely held in my curse when he was brought in to be branded. They were getting younger every fucking year and rarely lasted a month before they were picked off by Thirteen or one of us when they outlived their usefulness or did something stupid. It wasn’t often that they were lucky enough to be arrested and either returned home or thrown into juvie. I, myself, had only been fifteen when initiated, but I wasn’t new to the way of life. My father had unwittingly shown me the way after my mother died and he mercilessly plucked me from my bed and the only home I ever knew in the middle of the night.

  When the kid was called to get his brand, I watched as he slowly stood and trudged toward the chair. It was the same one I sat in to be marked, and unlike this kid, I never once questioned if I belonged.

  The moment the kid settled, Larry readied the needle, and the kid immediately began welling up, earning a few sneers for his tears. Seeing my opening, I rushed over and snatched the kid up by his collar before shaking him hard enough to turn his brain into a ping-pong ball.

  “What the fuck are you crying for?” I didn’t wait for an answer before I started dragging his ass. The sound of the other recruits snickering echoed around the shop as I made my way to the door with the kid in tow.

  “No one moves,” I said warning the recruits. I knew they’d all rush out to see me beat this kid senseless. When they all nodded, I resumed my quick strides. The kid could barely stay on his feet, but I showed no mercy as I forced him into the unforgiving cold.

  The moment we were out of sight, I stood him up straight and let my real anger take over. “What the hell are you doing here, kid?”

  “I-I-I-I don’t know,” he cried, pissing me off even more. There was nothing bad or broken about this kid. How had he ended up here?

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Don’t got none.” He sniffed and looked toward the shop. “Is it going to hurt?”

  “Yes,” I said, refusing to bullshit him. “But you know what hurts worse?” He shook his head no. “Bullets. And it doesn’t sting a little like that needle in there. It pierces, and it burns. And if you’re really unlucky, it kills you. You want that?”

  He shook his head even harder this time.

  I quickly pulled my gun and held it at my side. It was abundantly cruel, but I knew it would get the job done. His eyes were impossibly wide with horror as he trembled. “Then get the fuck out of here. If I see you again, I’ll save my enemies the trouble and blow your brains out myself.”

  I watched him run away as fast as he could, but I didn’t allow myself to feel relief. He wouldn’t be the last, and I knew there was no way I could save them all. Exiled grew its numbers by targeting troubled youth at their most vulnerable with the promise of rebellion and freedom from leadership. These lost souls accepted our brand and wore it like a badge of honor, completely unaware that they were signing their own death certificate. To leave Exiled was to welcome death—the only way out.

  I knew there would be questions that no one would dare voice when I went back inside, but I didn’t give a fuck. Exiled may have had no
qualms destroying lives, but I did, and anyone who had a problem with that could see me.

  As I started back inside, my phone rang, and for the first time, I debated answering.

  “Harlan.”

  “There’s a snake in my grass that I need taken care of,” Fox greeted in code.

  “I’ll call maintenance,” I answered, referring to our team of hitters. I had no idea why he was bothering me with this shit when Shane was his enforcer, but questioning Fox wasn’t something I did often. I learned early and painfully to pick my battles carefully.

  “That’s already been taken care of,” he said, earning my frown, “but this is a delicate situation, and it requires a personal touch.”

  I sighed, knowing my day had just been highjacked. Fox rarely stepped out of hiding, but when he did, my presence was always required. I was his eyes, ears, and his human shield if it came to that. “When?”

  “Now,” he said before hanging up.

  I started for my car parked around the corner, not bothering to offer my team an explanation. Craven and Jackal, two of my foot soldiers, could handle the recruits.

  By the time I hit the corner, my game face was firmly in place. However, my phone rang again, and the moment I read the name on the screen, it felt like someone had punched through my chest and seized my heart in their fist. I quickly answered, knowing it wouldn’t beat again until I had answers.

  Even though I already knew the reason for the call, I somehow still feared the worst.

  “When did she leave?” I snarled while my strides became longer, quickly carrying me to my car.

  “Last night,” Mrs. Henderson rushed to answer. “She left a note. She never leaves a note.”

  “What did it say?”

  “She told us not to wait for her.”

  “Jesus.” I stopped short. My feet became heavy like lead, and it felt like someone had snatched my heart right from my chest. “What the fuck happened?”