Chapter 4 Chapter Four: Rule Number One

WREN

"I'm not going."

"You're going." Dani Reyes throws a black crop top at my head. "It's the first Barn party of the season. It's tradition. You've gone every year since freshman year."

"He lives there now, Dani."

"It's a six-bedroom house. You'll never even see him."

"You don't know that."

"I know you've spent three days hiding in the training room reorganizing tape by color." She plants her hands on her hips. My roommate is a journalism major. She asks questions for a living and doesn't take silence for an answer. "You need a drink. You need Theo to spin you around the kitchen. And you need to prove to yourself that Knox Hollis doesn't get to take one more thing from your family."

I stare at the crop top.

"That's low," I say.

"That's journalism, baby."

---

The Barn is exactly what it always is: loud, sticky, and packed wall to wall. Someone has taped a sign to the porch that reads WOLVES DEN — NO ASHFORD SCUM. Beau Lindqvist stands on the kitchen island in a Viking helmet, conducting a chant nobody can follow.

"WREN!" Theo barrels through the crowd and lifts me clean off the floor. "You came! You never come anymore!"

"I came every year, Saint."

"Not since—" He stops. Sets me down. "Yeah. You came."

"Is he here?"

Theo doesn't pretend to misunderstand. "Upstairs. He said hi to three people and disappeared. He's not drinking."

"Of course he's not."

"Wren."

"I'm fine. I'm getting a drink. Two drinks. Maybe a third, to be safe."

For an hour, I actually am fine. Dani and I dance in the living room. Marcus teaches a freshman flip cup with the seriousness of a surgeon. Theo sings Taylor Swift into a spatula.

I don't look at the stairs, not once.

Okay. Twice.

Then the front door opens, and the room changes temperature.

"Oh, no," Dani says.

Three guys in maroon Ashford Kings hoodies push inside like they own the place. Walking in front, grinning like it's his birthday, is Cole Brandt.

Six-two. Sandy hair. The same dimple that made me stupid at eighteen.

My ex.

"No," I say. "No, no, no."

"I'll get Marcus," Dani says.

But Cole's already seen me.

"Wrennie!" He spreads his arms wide. "There she is."

"Get out, Cole."

"Relax. It's a party." He's in front of me before I can move, smelling like cologne and cheap beer. "I heard the Wolves got a new center. Had to come see it for myself."

"The sign says no Ashford."

"Signs are suggestions." He tilts his head. "You look good. Tired, but good."

"Leave."

"How's Eli?"

My whole body goes rigid.

"Don't."

"What? I'm allowed to ask. I was there too, remember?" His smile curls. "I was there for all of it. Wasn't I, Wren?"

Something cold slides down my spine. I know what he means. He's the only person alive who does.

"You need to go," I say, and hate how thin it sounds.

"Come on. One dance. For old times' sake."

His hand closes around my wrist.

"She said leave."

The voice comes from behind me. It's low and flat and calm. The kitchen goes silent the way a rink does right before a fight.

Cole's grip loosens. His eyes lift over my shoulder, and for the first time since he walked in, the grin slips.

"Hollis," he says. "Well, shit. Long time."

I turn.

Knox Hollis stands at the bottom of the stairs in a gray T-shirt and jeans. He isn't big in a loud way, like Beau or Marcus. He's big in a still way. His arms hang loose at his sides and his face is blank.

He isn't looking at me. He's looking at Cole's hand on my wrist.

"Let go of her," Knox says.

"We're just talking."

"Let go."

"Or what? You gonna hit me?" Cole laughs, but it comes out a note too high. "That's kind of your thing, right, Butcher?"

Knox walks forward. He doesn't hurry. The crowd splits around him like water.

He stops a foot from Cole. Close enough that Cole has to tip his chin up.

"I'm not going to hit you," Knox says quietly. "I'm going to walk you to the door. You're going to get in your car. And you're not going to come near her again."

"You don't get to tell me—"

"Brandt." Marcus appears at Knox's left. Theo steps up at his right, spatula still in hand. Behind them, six more Wolves shift into place. "Captain's house. Captain's rules. Out."

Cole looks at the wall of hockey players. He looks at Knox. Finally, he looks at me.

His hand drops from my wrist.

"You two are adorable," he says. "Hey, Wren, does your new friend know what you did that night? Or is he still carrying it all by himself?"

"Out," Knox says, and it isn't loud, but it's final.

Cole backs toward the door with his hands raised. His buddies follow. The screen door bangs shut.

The party exhales. Someone restarts the music. Beau yells "SKOL" for no reason, and people laugh too hard.

I'm shaking.

"Wren," Theo says. "You okay?"

"Bathroom," I manage, and push past all of them.

---

The upstairs hallway is dark and blessedly empty. I press my back against the wall and try to breathe.

In for four. Out for—

"Are you hurt?"

My eyes snap open. Knox is at the top of the stairs.

"Go away."

"Did he hurt your wrist?"

"I said go away."

He doesn't. He stays where he is, six feet from me, hands at his sides, like I'm an animal that might bolt.

"I didn't need you," I say. "I had it handled."

"I know."

"No, you don't know. You think you can walk in like some hero and fix it? You don't get to be the good guy. Not in this house. Not with me."

"I'm not trying to be the good guy."

"Then what are you trying to be?"

"Someone who doesn't stand there and watch."

I laugh, and it sounds awful. "You're kidding. You're actually kidding me right now."

"Wren—"

"Stop saying my name like you know me!" I push off the wall and walk right up to him, until I have to crane my neck. "You know Cole. You played with him. You were both on that ice. And now you're, what? Protecting me from him? That's hilarious. That's the funniest thing I've ever heard."

His jaw tightens. "What did he mean? About what you did?"

Everything in me goes white.

"Nothing."

"He said I'm carrying it alone. What did he mean?"

"Nothing. He's a liar. He's always been a liar."

Knox studies me in the dark. His eyes are too steady and too careful. He's seeing way too much.

"You're not angry at me right now," he says quietly. "You're scared. Because he's right about something."

My hand moves before my brain does.

The slap cracks down the hallway like a stick on ice.

His head turns with it. Slowly, he turns it back.

There's a red mark blooming on his cheek. He doesn't touch it. He doesn't step away. If anything, he's closer now, or I am, and I don't know when that happened. My back is against the wall again, his hand braced beside my head, and we're both breathing like we've skated a double shift.

"Again," he says, low. "If it helps."

My palm stings. My whole arm is shaking.

I don't hit him again.

I don't move at all.

Neither does he.

Somewhere at the end of the hallway, a phone camera flashes.

---

"Wren. Wren. Wake up."

Dani is shaking my shoulder. Sunlight is stabbing through my bedroom blinds.

"What time is it?"

"Eight. Wren, look at this."

She shoves her phone in my face.

It's a photo. Dark hallway. Knox Hollis leaning over me, his hand on the wall beside my head. My face tipped up toward his. It looks like the second before a kiss.

The caption reads: The Butcher and the victim's sister??? Northbridge is WILD 👀

"How many views?" I whisper.

"Two million."

My own phone buzzes on the nightstand.

One text. From Eli.

It's the same photo. Under it, two words.

Wren. Explain.