And not just scattered. Scattered remotely. Gabriel would be home alone—with no Nick to warn of danger approaching.

Chris and Michael were working a job, and if they were finishing the one Nick and Michael had skipped last night, it was a massive yard away from any other houses. Sitting ducks.

Hell, if the Guide took out Nick and Gabriel, he wouldn’t even have to go looking for Chris and Michael. He could just wait for them to come home.

“You’ve already given me proof,” said the man. “I know this girl is innocent. There is no need for her to die.”

Think, Nick. God, what the hell use was his GPA if he couldn’t think of a way out of here?

“Come out now,” said the man. “Three seconds and she dies.” He didn’t hesitate. “Three . . . Two . . .”

“Nick!” Quinn’s voice, high and panicked.

“Okay!” Nick shoved Adam down and stood, revealing himself. He didn’t recognize this guy at all.

But he recognized the danger of a gun pointed at Quinn’s head.

Nick put his hands up to show he was unarmed. “Okay. I’m here. Let her go.”

Adam. Stay hidden. Please, Adam.

“That was easy,” said the Guide.

Then he pointed the gun straight at Nick’s head and pulled the trigger.

CHAPTER 30

The gun fired, and Quinn flew back and hit the wooden floor like someone had given her a hard shove. The studio windows exploded outward, but the sound only came to her distantly, as though she were underwater. The overhead lights burst and glass rained down.

Time stopped. She felt as if she lay there for a minute. An hour. A day.

After a while, she realized she could open her eyes. She turned her head.

Glass everywhere, sparkling in the light.

She couldn’t see Nick.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her ears were ringing and full, and she couldn’t seem to move right yet.

Where was the man?

He’d shot Nick. She’d seen the flash, had seen Nick jerk and fall.

She had to run.

She had to get to her phone.

Her brain was racing, but everything else seemed to be moving in slow motion.

Move!

She still couldn’t breathe. The pressure was intense, as if an elephant had set up shop right on top of her chest. Her vision was turning spotty.

Had she been shot? She felt like she’d been dropped into liq-uid amber, and her world was slowly coming to a crystalline stop.

What was happening?

And then, without warning, reality snapped back into place.

Wind rushed into the studio, chilling her face and making the glass tinkle and drag across the wood.

She could move. She could breathe. She could crawl.

But no. When she rolled over, trying to get to her hands and knees, her body shook and protested the motion. Every joint hurt. Her head swam. Her skin pricked like she’d been sliced open by a hundred tiny knives.

Oh, look. Her arms were bleeding.

The lightbulbs. Glass under her palms.

Nick.

Nick was crumpled on the floor. Not moving.

His eyes were closed. Blood had pooled on the hardwood floor, glistening where glass had collected in it.

She realized she was screaming his name. Glass sliced into her hands and knees as she scrambled toward him.

Then she caught movement from the corner of her eye and flinched, remembering the man.

Hide. Hide, Quinn.

Her brain wasn’t working. Hide where? In the open?

But no. It wasn’t the man. She didn’t see Gareth anywhere.

It was Adam. He was making the same slow crawl across the glass-strewn floor that she was. Blood streaked his forearms.

His head was bleeding from the temple—what had happened?

His face was wet. He was crying.

She was yelling. She couldn’t move fast enough.

Nick.

Nick.

Nick.

He didn’t move at all.

No. No no no no no no.

Adam got to him first. Rolled him onto his back. Nick’s arm cracked onto the hardwood floor, lifeless.

Adam was crying his name, too. He was pressing his fingers to Nick’s neck, struggling to find a pulse. Adam’s words came to her in slow motion, and her brain didn’t want to process them.

He doesn’t have a pulse.

He’s not breathing.

Damn it, Nick.

The side of Nick’s face was soaked in blood. It was already caking in his hair.

Oh, Nick. Quinn choked on her sobs.

Adam breathed into Nick’s mouth.

And again.

Nothing happened.

Nick’s voice was echoing in her head, from the night he’d told her their secrets.

A gun to the head is a surefire way to kill us.

God, now it sounded like a premonition.

She’d done this. She should have fought Gareth in the parking lot. She should have screamed a warning. She should have begged Tyler to stay she should have should have should have—

“Damn it, Quinn!” shouted Adam. “Snap out of it! Can you get to your phone? He’s got a pulse. We need an ambulance.”

Nick had a headache.

He couldn’t open his eyes. He kept flashing on waking up in the woods, Gabriel leaning over him.

Come on, Nicky, you’re scaring me.

Air swirled around him, fluttering at his skin, full of pride, seeking his attention.

Yes, yes, he thought. I’m alive. Good job. This just really f**king hurts.

He knew he’d been shot in the head, but only kind of distantly. Like maybe one day he’d be able to look back on this and say, “Well, the one time I took a bullet to the cerebral cortex . . .”