I was gonna wait to publish this just to torture you guys 😈 but I think I've done enough torturing in this book and to be fair, we only have a few chapters left...

---

"What the fuck, dude?" I yell, relaxing my posture and taking a deep breath in hopes of slowing my racing heartbeat. My hands fly up to push against his chest, though he only has to step back once to regain his balance.

"Ay, chill, ay!" He laughs, gripping my wrists to prevent me from hitting him again. I open my mouth to ask a more important question, but he answers before I can get a word out. "Sofi's safe."

Only then do I entirely relax, tension literally leaving me in a sigh as my muscles slacken.

My last night out of jail, I'd been at Billie's house with our few other friends. She'd let me hide there for a while. It was supposed to be until we figured out a way to make me seem like a hero, to stop the gang from uprising against me and instead make them accept me as the new don, the Alpha. To cope with that terrifying notion, we'd all gotten entirely wasted. Alcohol never really sat well with me. It makes more sense now; I figure it must've just intensified my disorders, as it always made me act out even against my own better judgement. That night, I was set on driving the van back to the house where Sofi was still hidden down in the basement, where she was always told to go if our parents didn't return home when they said they would. Billie was asleep, the rest of us intoxicated out of our minds, so nobody stopped me as I stumbled from the house, the keys hanging loosely from my fingertips. Colson was the only one who followed me, though he was slurring his words beyond recognition. I shut the van's door before he could reach me and, with some sort of foretelling clarity, as though I somehow knew I wouldn't be making it to the house, I rolled the window down to beg him to take care of my sister. I knew he would, no matter what it would cost him. They cared about me, but they loved Sofi. Everyone loved Sofi.

"She's okay?" I ask breathily, my mind still hazy from the adrenaline he'd caused me in his attempted hug.

"Yeah, yeah, she's fine." He nods, brows furrowing as he turns to the side, avoiding eye contact as he so often does.

I smile, both at the reassurance and the fact that he's still him. Three years later, and he's still the same. I felt as though everyone would be gone, or different beyond recognition, but it feels good to know that they weren't hurt by my actions after all.

"So, Mila, you're back?" He asks, reaching up to scratch at his bleach-blonde hair as he looks down at me once more.

I shake my head quickly. "Not really, Cols. I'm on parole. I can't be around all this." I pause, giving him a look that I know he understands, a sort of plea. "I don't want to be."

He grins, nodding. "You got your shot, Princesa. Take it. What about us, though? What are you gonna do about La Familia?"

I shrug, looking behind my shoulder when a droplet falling into one of the tubs echoes around the room. "It's over, I guess... Unless someone steps up." I hint, hoping he'll pick up on it. If anyone can turn La Familia into a good thing, or at least make it less terrible, it's Colson.

He frowns, humming, before lurching into motion as he reaches out to wrap his arm around my shoulders. "You want your sister, right?"

I nod so fast I'm surprised I don't give myself whiplash. A deep chuckle bubbles in his chest and leads me back upstairs.

...

Lauren's POV

My hands splay and tense on the steering wheel as I tap my fingers along it in an undulating pattern, eyes glued to the gate through which Camila disappeared. I barely caught a glimpse of it through the gate as we passed and high walls topped with even higher hedges make it impossible to see from where I am but I saw enough to know that the house, although understandably unkept, is remarkably ostentatious. With terracotta roof tiles, cream-coloured exterior walls, and huge pillars supporting an overhang at the front, it is a large Meditteranean-style manor which wouldn't look out of place perched on the edge of a golf course in Texas, or perhaps on the coast of California. It's clear that the Cabellos had a lot of money and were not afraid of showing it off, despite the manner in which they garnered it. Still, I can only imagine what a hellhole lies beneath its foundations, what a terrifying place it has become to so many, even how many deaths it has set the scene for.

I close my eyes to focus on my breathing for a moment, trying to convince myself that Camila will be alright, that she'll return soon with a thirteen-year-old girl close beside her, and that I'll be able to take them home instead of to the nearest hospital. When I reopen my eyes, I find that my anxiety might not be all that irrational. A strange man is leaving through the gate Camila entered just thirty minutes or so ago. I straighten in my seat, gripping the steering wheel with such fervour that I fear I might break through its leather cover to crush the metal within. Before I can gather my wits and act to protect Camila, however, my eyes meet her searching ones. She quickly finds me and smiles, waving. A wave of relief spreads through my entire body, and I relax back into the seat. The man, I realise, was holding the gate open for her to leave. He's yet to let it go and Camila turns back, causing my attention to follow theirs until I find what seems to be a smaller version of Camila shuffling along, pulling a small suitcase behind her. I grasp who she is even before Camila rushes over to the car and, when I roll my window down, introduces her to me.

"Hi, Sofi." I grin, hoping to seem welcoming and warm. The girl eyes me suspiciously before silently clambering into the back seat of my car. Camila purses her lips and looks back at me.

"She doesn't trust doctors yet," she explains, adding with a subtle wink, "but she'll come around."

I nod in understanding, gesturing with my eyes to the blonde-haired man still standing near the gate, though his hands are now shoved deep into the pockets of his skinny jeans. He looks vaguely familiar. I wonder if I've seen him in a police sketch,

"That's Colson, my friend," Camila answers my unspoken question, looking back to the man who nods in greeting. "He's okay." There's a look of intense concentration on Camila's face for a moment before she takes a deep breath and turns to me yet again. "I'll be right back."

Nodding, I watch as she rushes back across the road and throws herself into his arms. He seems comfortable, though a little taken aback, by the attack but quickly return the embrace. I notice something sticking out from the back pocket of her sweats, but decide not to bring it up. They talk for a moment before she begins to head back to the car. I glance in the rearview mirror to find Sofi already looking at me with a small frown on her face. She doesn't look away when she realises I've caught her gaze, so I smile once more before watching as Camila climbs into the passenger seat, leaning over to kiss my cheek, which forces a blush to grow from my neck to my ears, before fastening herself in. That, I realise, was the first time we've ever kissed in front of another person, and it was done in such a casual, almost domestic way.

"Ready?" I ask. The fact that it is a repeat of earlier doesn't go unnoticed.

This time, she smiles and takes one of my hands into her lap, glancing back at her younger sister in the back seat. "Ready. To your place."

I smile, chewing on my lip. "To our place."