Delinquents Turned Fugitives - Ann Denton Page 0,88

I’m having a phone delivered in half an hour.”

“Well, that can’t wait. I just solved a major problem.”

Three hours later, I traded one major problem for another.

We had all met up at Gray’s newest location, an abandoned industrial building where we’d be roughing it in sleeping bags and lime-colored pop-up tents with our motorcycles parked in a circle around them like some modern wagon train. In the very center of our bullseye configuration were camp chairs set in a circle. They were uncomfortable, the collapsible canvas kind that soccer moms toted around every weekend, with the giant cup holders that they pretended were full of coffee but were actually full of Irish coffee.

I wished I had an Irish coffee.

We were discussing Mom’s funeral. And it had suddenly become a very controversial topic.

“Muller will be looking for you there,” Z argued. “You can’t go. Rule number one. Don’t go where the cops can find you.” His normally playful demeanor was dead serious.

I chewed my lip to stop myself from instantly retorting. I needed to let them get it all out first.

“Too many people. Extraction will be difficult. And if I fly you out that will be too obvious. The connection to my family will be made and then they’ve got eyes roaming for three of us instead of two.” Gray contributed, siding with Zavier. “It’s just not feasible, nemesis.”

Andros was silent, his arms crossed as he watched our crew split in half.

Evan leaned forward in his camp chair. “She needs this. Hayley deserves closure.”

“We also need the opportunity to put a bug in the press’s ear about the Pinnacle treating people like their own disposable little lab rats.” Malcolm shoved a speech he’d written in my direction. “Take a look.”

I glanced down at the speech, but couldn’t read it. Instead, I rubbed my eyes, worn out already, because I could feel the tension swirling around us like it was smoke from a forest fire. It was toxic and noxious and I didn’t know how to stop it. Because I was going to go. But it was a stupid move. Even with Malcolm’s thin justification, we all knew it was the dumb play.

But she was my mom.

The thought of turning my back on her shredded me.

Of course, Gray had to add salt to the wound. “Look, half the people there will only be there because that asshole Claude was on the Pinnacle Council—”

And there, behind Gray, the light flickered and then coalesced into my worst nightmare.

Claude King appeared behind Grayson in his perfectly pressed black suit, the one he wore when the Pinnacle was overseeing a trial. A blood red tie dripped down his neck. He even had on his wedding ring, that false promise.

I jumped out of a plane. I was shipwrecked in the middle of the ocean. I was watching a volcano erupt as I stood at its peak. Imminent death. Every nerve ending told me that was what this was. Imminent death. My brain screamed at me in panic. My breath came in quick gasps, I was shocked into silence for a moment.

A moment was all he needed. Claude gave me a vicious smile as he stuck his hand right through Grayson’s throat.

I screamed, scrambling to my feet as Gray started to writhe and twitch.

The guys all ran toward Gray, assuming he was having some sort of seizure.

But that wasn’t what was happening.

My stepfather was controlling Gray, because Claude King—bastard extraordinaire couldn’t just die like a normal person. The fucker was now a ghost.

29

I shoved shadows out of my hands without thought, trying to choke the monster who was choking my Gray.

“Hale!” Malcolm yelled in surprise, as suddenly the entire warehouse became darker than a mine shaft after a cave in.

“Claude King!” I screamed his name, hatred burning up my throat.

“What the fuck?” Z’s tone was puzzled.

One of them grabbed a phone and tried to switch on the flashlight feature, but I quickly hurled shadows and pinched the electrical pulses swimming through the battery. "No light. It lets ghosts work."

"Fuck!" Z cried. "Claude's a ghost?"

"Catch up." Andros’ tone was smooth.

"Catch up? She just fucking said it."

"Shut up—" Malcolm hissed. His voice sounded the closest to me in the darkness, like he was just diagonally in front to my left. "Shakespeare, you got this." his voice wrapped around my ears like silk, calm and undisturbed. It was exactly what I needed.

Because I was freaking the fuck out.

We'd killed him. Not just once. We'd fucking annihilated Claude. And yet, here he