Picture Perfect - Page 160

“Nothing,” I lie, because the truth is too dangerous to admit. Even now, trapped in this room, I cling to the secrets of my heart—my love for those boys, even if none of it was real.

“Open. Them.”

There’s no time to waste—no time for tears or fears. Every second is a thief, stealing my chance at escape.

“Come on, come on,” I mutter under my breath, the screen’s glow a beacon in the dim room. I flip through the apps, bypassing games and social media until I find what I’m looking for—a nondescript icon, a tiny chess piece that represents so much more. The emergency app Chess programmed just for moments like this.

I press it, holding my breath. A simple interface pops up asking for my fingerprint. My heart pounds against my ribs as I press my thumb to the screen. It’s a gamble, trusting this silent alarm will work, but it worked last time.

“Pathetic,” William mutters, snatching the phone back. “We’ll deal with this later.”

They storm out, their anger hanging in the air like a toxic fog. I’m left alone, curled up on the floor with the phone—the last vestige of connection to a world I’m no longer part of—just out of reach.

The second they’re gone, I curl back into myself on the floor, a wounded animal playing dead, even as inside, a fierce spark of hope ignites. Hold on, Addy. Just hold on.

Chapter seventy

Dre

I’m pacing back and forth like a caged animal in Saint’s bedroom, each step echoing the rapid drumming of my heart. My skin is tight, itching with a restlessness that won’t be calmed. Chess is slumped on the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands, looking every bit the image of despair. Saint just stands by the window, staring out into nothing, his expression hollow, as if someone has carved out a piece of him.

“Saint, man,” I say, my voice rough with urgency, “we gotta do something.”

He doesn’t respond, just keeps staring out the window, and it’s as if he’s made of stone. Snowflake wasn’t at school today. Not a word, not a whisper from her, and it’s killing us. We need to talk to her, explain ourselves, try to fix this mess we’ve made.

“Chess?” I glance over at him, hoping for some kind of plan, but he just shakes his head slowly, eyes red-rimmed and lost.

“I can’t stand this,” I mutter and rake a hand through my hair, pulling at the roots. “She’s gotta hear us out.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to,” Chess whispers, his voice cracking. “Dude, we screwed up bad.”

My fists clench at my sides. “We’ll make her understand. We have to.”

I think back to the number of times I’ve driven out to the Winthrop estate since last night, how I gave Snowflake the space I thought she needed the first night. I didn’t like her in that house, but she had the wedge to keep them out and she had the phone we got her. She could reach out if she wanted to, needed to, but silence was all we got.

After school today, desperation clawed at me, and I decided to climb through her window, but I was met with a fortress. The security presence had tripled overnight. It was like trying to break into Fort Knox.

“Every damn time, more guards,” I growl. “It’s like they know we’ll come for her.”

Saint finally turns from the window, his dark eyes burning with something fierce. “Then we find another way.”

“Security’s no joke, Saint,” I remind him, thinking about the patrols, the cameras, the high walls. “Getting past them isn’t going to be easy.”

I stop my restless pacing and plant my feet as the door to Saint’s bedroom bursts open, a gust of fresh determination sweeping in with Gen’s arrival. She stands there, hands on hips, her gaze scanning the room like she’s ready to command an army.

“Look at you three, the saddest bunch I’ve ever seen,” she declares, her voice slicing through the tension that’s thick enough to choke on.

“Addy’s not answering any of my messages,” she continues, eyeing each of us like we’re puzzles missing pieces. “What did you guys do?”

Chess’s eyes are rimmed red, his usual mischief drowned out by misery. “We fucked up, Gen,” he chokes out, voice breaking. “We… she…we fucked up.”

Gen’s face hardens like ice, a storm brewing behind those sharp eyes. “Then let’s go get her.”

“Gen, I tried,” I interject, frustration edging my words. “Security is swarming the Winthrop estate. It’s locked down tighter than Alcatraz.”

She scoffs, a sound that mocks my helplessness, and steps closer. “My dad owns a private security company, remember? They do ‘special’ missions all the time. Trust me, Dre, they can get to Addy.”

“Are you serious?” My heart hammers against my chest, hope mingling with the adrenaline already pumping through my veins.