I flip through my phone as agents keep pouring into the house. Cody, Devin, Jason, and Chase are all busying talking with the other agents and then each other.

Apparently, Thirteen's run off. That really doesn't surprise me.

My hand moves to my pocket, where I've stashed the envelope she handed me. The desire to open it is almost overwhelming, but I just fist my hand at my side instead. I walk over to where Chase is. Out of all the guys, I prefer to deal with him. He's the one least likely to shoot me.

"What's up?" I ask him and he just shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. "You look stressed."

He gives me a flat look. "Thirteen's gone missing," He mutters. I raise my eyebrows. "Well, I guess missing isn't exactly the right word. She's disappeared, run off, whatever you want to call it."

"And this is a problem because . . ." I trail off, waiting for him to fill in the blank,

Chase just shakes his head. "Cody's just . . . disappointed doesn't seem like the right word. And Jason's pissed. I have a feeling Cody will be feeling that way eventually too."

"Ah yes," I say. "Pissy agents, who wants to deal with them," Chase gives me another flat look accompanied closely by a glare, so I hold my hands up in surrender and walk off.

"Head's up!" Someone shouts, but before I get the chance to turn around, much less duck, I'm hit in the head.

Pain erupts across the back of my head and I stagger. I turn to look at what exactly hit me, only to see that it's a gun. Who the hell throws guns? I get my answer when another one sores through the air toward me. I jump out of the way, only to turn in time to see Devin throw yet another one.

Clearly, he was supposed to be in charge of gathering up all the guns that my father and his guards had been using. And clearly, he thought chucking them all at me was a much better idea. I glare at him and he doesn't even bother to try and look innocent, he just throws the next one right at me, never taking his eyes off me.

"Devin!" Chase calls out and Devin freezes in the motion of throwing yet another gun at me. "Some of those are still loaded. We do not need them going off!"

Devin get's this horrible mischievous glint his eyes and throws the gun in his hands at me anyway. So I do the only rational thing to do at this moment, I begin throwing them back. Devin lets out a yelp when one of the guns come in contact with his shin.