Colt:
The phone buzzed once in my pocket.
Ignored it.
Buzzed again.
Still ignored it.
The third time, I snatched it up, ready to cuss somebody out for needing me this bad when my life was already in pieces.
“Yeah?” I barked into the receiver.
“Don’t shoot the messenger,” a voice came through. Dax. A club runner. Nervous as hell.
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“I just saw Ella. At the overlook again. Just didn't want anything to happen the Beck's sister like last time.”
That alone was enough to make me clench my jaw. The overlook was her quiet place. Her falling-apart place. Her danger place. I’d found her there once with a bottle of vodka and tear-streaked cheeks back before everything exploded.
But then Dax kept talking.
“She wasn’t alone.”
I stilled. Heart started thudding.
“
