͏b͏r͏o͏k͏e͏n || ͏b͏i͏l͏l͏y ͏h͏a͏r͏g͏r͏o͏v͏e

F O U R T E E N

"Hey," Eleven sniffled, her shoulders sagging with exhaustion.

She glanced toward Will's room, then whispered, "Can I see him?"

Joyce nodded, wiping her eyes. "Of course. Come on."

As Joyce led Eleven down the hall toward Will's room, the house settled into a strange, heavy quiet — a mix of dread and hope tangled together in the air. Everyone sat scattered around the living room, trying not to stare at one another, trying not to think too hard about what came next.

That's when my walkie-talkie screeched to life. I jolted so hard Lucas flinched beside me. But everyone I was supposed to talk to... was right here.

I dug it out of my backpack and pressed the button. "Hello?"

A familiar rough voice cut through the static like a punch:

"I'm giving you one chance, Harrington."

My stomach dropped into my knees.

I felt the color drain from my face as I looked around the room—everyone staring at me like I was about to sprout horns.

"Who... who is this?" I tried, voice two octaves too high.

Billy scoffed. "Don't play stupid, princess. It doesn't suit you."

Max's eyes blew wide. She started shaking her head at me like a bobblehead having a seizure. I mouthed, I know, but that didn't make my heart beat any slower.

"Tell me where Maxine is," Billy continued, the threat plain in his voice, "before I do something that'll be uncomfortable for the both of us."

Oh wonderful. A double threat. My favorite flavor.

I plastered on the fakest smile imaginable and stood up. "Be right back!" I chirped, striding toward the porch before anyone could ask questions.

The second the door closed behind me, I exhaled shakily. Okay. Act normal. Be normal. Normal is fine. Normal is safe. You're just... chatting. With a totally rational, definitely-not-on-the-verge-of-a-meltdown Billy Hargrove.

I pressed the walkie to my mouth. "Listen, I've gotta get in bed soon or else my parents—"

Billy cut me off, voice dripping with annoyance.
"I know you're not at home, Ana."

I froze.

"I already stopped by," he added, like it was no big deal, like that wasn't TERRIFYING INFORMATION. I closed my eyes. Silently cursing.

"Now tell me where Max is."

My throat went dry. I didn't answer—because answering would mean selling Max out. Silence buzzed between us. Then Billy huffed — long, slow, dangerous.

"All right then." His tone dropped into something cold. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

There was shuffling on his end. Heavy footsteps.
And then —

DING DONG.

A doorbell.
But not mine.

My breath hitched. I pressed my walkie tighter to my mouth. Please not the Sinclairs. Please not the Sinclairs. Please not—

A woman's voice crackled faintly through the speaker, filtered through the distance of Billy's walkie on his end. There was some shuffling on the other end, fabric moving, the creak of a door.

Then Billy's voice, smooth and fake-sweet in that way that made me want to strangle him AND hide under a blanket simultaneously.

"Hi."