lurking in the background, they scan the immediate vicinity like sharks on the hunt.
“I’ll be right back,” Mara says before inching forward. Her voice reaches me from over her shoulder. “My parents will kill me if I don’t show respect.”
I watch her slink over to Mr. Shen and bow her head in greeting. The man places his hand on her shoulder before turning his attention to her parents. There’s a rehearsed quality to it all, and I can’t escape the sense that so much more is playing out beneath the surface.
The reason Mara was so shaken the night Rafe first accosted us. Why Mr. Zhang would entrust me, a relative newcomer, to approach these people rather than do so himself. Why the locals shuffle warily in the presence of a man who seems to command so much power just by arriving.
He takes up the remaining sliver of space between the Chans and Wens, showing sympathy with a bow of his head. But I notice that another presence is suspiciously absent. Even when I inch forward to enter the restaurant proper, I don’t find him anywhere.
But as curious faces glance in my direction, I can’t escape the sense I don’t belong here either. It’s as if everyone knows I’m a sheltered interloper watching from the outside looking in.
Finally, Mr. Shen steps forward. “Here, we are family,” he says, his booming voice easily reaching throughout the wide space. “We protect one another. Look out for one another. And we fight for one another. Tonight, we search for one of our own, and I have no doubt that everyone here will search for Faith with the same intensity you’d search for your own sister or daughter. We are family here.”
As he falls silent, the Chans set out, passing out stacks of flyers along with suggestions of where to begin. I start forward, my eyes on Mara, but a heavy hand falls over my shoulder. Alarmed, I turn to find a stranger looming over me. I vaguely recognize him as one of the figures who arrived with Mr. Shen.
“What’s your name?” he demands, eyeing me up and down. “You live around here? Or are you a reporter? Or…” He leans in, his eyes narrowing. “Are you a snitch for that fucker Gino?” His grip tightens, his nails digging in. “Which one is it—”
“She’s with me.” A different hand lands on my opposite shoulder, and my entire body resonates with the heat emanating from it.
The other man grunts, but when he eyes the figure behind me, he nods and lumbers off, joining the press of people breaking off into small groups to search.
“What are you doing here, bunny?” He sounds so cold. I can clearly predict his expression before I even turn to face him—guarded eyes and a mistrustful frown.
As if he has any right to be.
Saying nothing, I reach into my pocket for Mr. Zhang’s red envelope. I shove it at him so fiercely he barely manages to catch it. Then I turn on my heel with my chin in the air and my shoulders back.
I don’t even make it a step.
“Wait.” He snatches my arm, steering me past the restaurant and into a nearby alley. From here, we have a decent view of the restaurant’s entrance, but we’re out of sight from those inside.
“This isn’t the time or the place to hop around, little bunny.” The words carry his trademark taunts, but his voice falls flat and lacks its usual flair. He sounds wary. I risk glancing at his face only to find his stare fixed on the nearby gathering—namely, the man commanding attention from the very heart of the commotion. “You’re going to draw attention,” he tells me, his jaw tense, a muscle twitching against the tan skin. “You have that face. Anyone could take one look and know you aren’t missing a damn thing—”
“I’m not here for you,” I say, my voice softer than I’d like. To bolster the statement, I step forward, searching for Mara, but I can’t resist one last quip. “But I’m surprised someone like you can cease being selfish long enough to look for someone else.”
“A search party isn’t a good time to be jealous, bunny,” he counters.
I feel my cheeks flush hot, but before I can sputter out a comeback, his grip tightens, pulling me deeper into the alley. With every step, my heartbeat quickens, and my palms sweat. Am I afraid?
Yes, I decide as my gaze flicks along his face. I’m terrified—but not of him.