I furrowed my brow as I stared at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

His jaw worked back and forth as he clenched his teeth, anger radiating from the set of his shoulders. Finally, he said, “Riley was only ever in the crew because you dragged him down with you.”

My eyes grew wide, my head pulling back in shock. “What? No, you were in the crew well before I was. Riley was there when I came in.”

“He was there, but did you ever see him running any jobs before you pulled him along on your first one?”

I opened my mouth to respond, then snapped it shut, because he was right. It was true that Riley had always been around, but he’d never done any jobs. He’d only been there because Ghost had been there. And then I’d come in and dragged him along to every single job I had, pulling him under with me.

I swallowed, asking quieter, “And after he was told I was dead? Why didn’t he go straight then? From the looks of it, he’s in deeper now than he ever was when I’d been there.”

Ghost took a deep breath, exhaling as a girl entered the room—the same one who’d come rushing in earlier while Riley and Ghost had been fighting. She was tall, her long brown hair swept back in a ponytail, a look of concern filling her eyes as she studied Ghost. Her arms were full of supplies—cotton balls, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, some first-aid cream, and various other items. Ghost glanced at her, and without her even having to say a word, he followed her to the couch and sat down, relaxing patiently while she wiped a wet cloth over his cuts. I didn’t know who she was, hadn’t even gotten her name yet, but she obviously thought a lot of Ghost. And from the look he gave her as she cleaned him up, it was clear the feeling was mutual.

When she turned away to get a clean cloth, Ghost fixed his stare on me again and answered my earlier question. “He did it for retribution. He wanted justice for your death, and that was the only way he knew how to get it.”

*   *   *

I carried the first-aid supplies with me as I went off looking for Riley, hoping he’d stayed close. I didn’t think he’d go off half-cocked on his bike, but I didn’t really know him at all anymore. I had no idea what kind of man he’d turned into over these past few years. Except it was clear, just based on his contact with Frankie at my house and the fight with Ghost, that he was a lot more hardened than the teenager I’d once known.

More hardened than the boy I’d once loved.

But then again, I’d lived a hundred lifetimes in the five years since I’d been gone, so if anyone could understand change, it was me.

My instincts had been right, and I came across him sitting on the front stoop of the apartment building, his back hunched as his forearms rested on his knees. Without saying anything, I sat down next to him and looked out at the early November morning, the wind blowing enough to send a waterfall of fire—orange and yellow and crimson leaves—raining from the trees. Riley didn’t make any movement, didn’t even look my way, just continued to stare straight ahead.

Clearing my throat, I racked my brain for something to say, finally settling on, “It looks like Ghost isn’t exactly the same guy I used to know. He’s been busy.”

Riley snorted, shaking his head and finally glancing over at me. “I haven’t even officially met his girlfriend yet. The first time she sees me, I’m whaling on Gage.”

“Gage? That’s new, too.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t like to be called Ghost anymore. Not since a few months ago. Not since Madison, actually.”

Madison must’ve been the girl inside the apartment, fawning all over Ghost—Gage. The one who’d stared at him like he was her whole world, the looks passing between them making me so uncomfortable, I’d finally excused myself to the bathroom.

I shifted on the cold concrete step, tucking my hands between my thighs. “So he’s out now?”

“Yep. Since March. He moved here over the summer. He’s taking art classes now, if you can believe it.”

I couldn’t, actually. The Ghost I’d known would never make a move like that. “Well, I never saw that day coming, to be honest. I thought your brother would be a lifer.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

He got quiet again, and after several moments of silence, I grabbed the wet washcloth I’d brought out and scooted closer to him. “Turn this way. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

Glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His eyes spoke a hundred words between us, and I couldn’t stop the memories from assaulting me—of all the times I’d done this for him after we’d come from a job together. He had a short fuse back then, determined to prove his worth, and that ended in more bloody lips and black eyes than I could even recall.

But every time, I’d been there.

We’d go back to the apartment he shared with Gage, and I’d clean him up, tenderly looking after him even though I didn’t do anything tenderly in my life.

For years I’d tried to block those memories out. Anytime I was conscious, I refused to think of that time in my life, and that included Riley, believing it’d somehow be easier, this hollow feeling in my chest. But my subconscious made up for it a thousand times over in my dreams. Blocking him out there was a whole other battle. One I never won.

Riley always, always came to me in my dreams.

And now that those memories had worked their way into my mind, had crept in after I’d fought them for so long, I had to wonder … who’d cleaned him up since I’d been gone?

Tentatively, I reached up and pressed two fingers to his stubble-roughened chin, guiding his face toward mine. We were so close, I could feel the heat of his breath against my lips, and as much as I told myself not to react at the feel of him around me—his air in my lungs and the brush of his skin against mine—it didn’t matter. That hum of awareness I’d always felt in his presence was real and alive and all-consuming.

To distract myself, I darted my eyes around, taking stock of all his injuries, falling into a series of remembered movements, ingrained deeply from having done it more times than I could count. I tried to focus only on the cuts and bruises forming, only on the parts of his face I needed to clean up, but he made it damn difficult.

He’d always been something to look at, cute in a boyish way, but since then, he’d changed from a boy into a man, his jaw sharper, the contours to his face more defined. His eyes were just as mesmerizing as they had been so long ago. Framed in dark, thick lashes, they were as clear as the water right offshore, breathtaking and bottomless. Through the scruff blanketing his jaw, there was a cut at the corner of his mouth, just below his full lower lip. Before I could get too lost in what those lips had once done to me, I grabbed the washcloth and brushed it over the cut. Riley didn’t flinch, didn’t even move, and I had to remind myself to get it together. Five years was a long time. Who knew what had happened with him over that time, if he was involved with anyone now. Besides that, I was engaged, for fuck’s sake.

I was engaged.

My hand froze against Riley’s cheek as thoughts of what the hell I was going to tell Eric bombarded me. He’d never known about this part of my life. And he never would, if I could help it. I just didn’t know how I was going to get out of this—how I was going to get out of this with my life, and with the lives of those I cared about. Which, sadly enough, I could count on one hand and still have fingers left.

With Eric being in London till the end of the month, that would buy me some time. Though I knew it wouldn’t buy me forever, and sooner or later, Max was going to come to collect the one thing I’ve made sure to carry with me at all times since that day I fled. The one tiny little piece of technology that, ironically, could be my ticket to freedom as much as it was my death sentence.