No Tomorrow in Greyhaven

The salt wind howled through the rusted skeleton of the shipyard.

I sprinted across the wet concrete, my sneakers splashing through puddles that mirrored the cold Massachusetts moon.

"Your parents were worthless strays!" a voice echoed from the upper catwalk.

Victor Kessler. The man who bought his way out of a double homicide.

I skidded to a halt near the metal stairs, staring up into the gloom.

Victor held a silver handgun, pointing it directly at Adrian's chest. "They played a stupid game, and they ended up in a ditch. You want to join them, boy?"

A raw, violent roar tore from Adrian's throat.

He didn't care about the weapon. He lunged forward.

His massive shoulder slammed into Victor's ribs. The gun clattered against the grated floorboards.

They crashed into the guardrail. The corroded iron groaned under their combined weight, bending outward.

"Adrian, stop!" I screamed, racing up the steps.

The metal snapped.

Victor plummeted backward into the dark.

He hit the concrete floor right in front of me.

A jagged piece of exposed steel rebar pierced the back of his skull. The sickening crunch echoed louder than the crashing waves outside.

Victor twitched once. Then, nothing.

Adrian stumbled down the remaining steps. He fell to his knees beside the body.

His hands shook violently. His chest heaved. He stared at the pooling blood, completely paralyzed.

"Evie," he whispered, his voice cracking. "He pulled a gun. I just... I pushed him."

I didn't scream. A terrifying, icy calm washed over my brain.

I stepped over the spreading crimson puddle and grabbed the handgun from the stairs. The metal felt freezing against my palm.

"Adrian, stand up," I ordered.

He didn't move. His eyes stayed glued to Victor's lifeless face.

I grabbed his collar and yanked him backward. "Look at me!"

His gaze snapped to mine. Pure panic widened his dark eyes.

"You leave right now," I told him, wiping the gun's grip with the wet sleeve of my jacket. "You drive back to campus. You don't speak to anyone."

"Are you crazy?" He grabbed my wrists, his fingers digging into my skin. "I killed him. I have to call the police."

"You have a Harvard hockey scholarship," I fired back, ripping my hands free. "You have a future. I'm a reject from a family that wishes I was dead. I have nothing."

"No. I won't let you do this."

"You don't have a choice." I pressed my own fingers firmly against the trigger and the barrel, leaving my prints everywhere. "Victor owed me money. We fought. It was self-defense. That's the story."

"Evie, stop!" He reached for the weapon again.

I shoved him hard against a rusted pillar. "If you stay, we both lose! Get out of here!"

Sirens wailed in the distance. Someone had heard the struggle.

"Go!" I shouted, pointing toward the exit.

He hesitated, his face pale, tears cutting through the grime on his cheeks.

The flashing blue lights painted the warehouse walls.

I turned my back on him and dropped the gun next to Victor's hand.

When the police swarmed the building a minute later, I was sitting alone on the bottom step, waiting for the cuffs.

The courtroom smelled like floor wax and old wood.

My orange jumpsuit scratched against my skin. The heavy chains around my ankles rattled as I shifted in the defendant's chair.

"The prosecution is offering ten years," my public defender muttered, sliding a piece of paper across the table. "Manslaughter, obstruction, perjury. You sign this plea bargain today, or we go to trial and you get twenty."

I picked up the pen.

"Evie, wait!" a voice cracked from the gallery.

I twisted around.

Adrian stood in the second row. Dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes. He smelled faintly of stale whiskey, even from a distance.

"It was me!" Adrian shouted at the judge. "She didn't do it! I pushed him!"

A man in a sharp suit—Adrian's high-priced attorney—grabbed his shoulders and slammed him back onto the wooden bench.

"Shut your mouth," the lawyer hissed, leaning into Adrian's ear. "You change your story now, you both rot in federal prison for the rest of your lives."

The judge banged his gavel. "Order! One more outburst, young man, and the bailiff will remove you."

Adrian fought against his lawyer's grip. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the railing dividing us.

Tears spilled over his lashes, tracking down his jaw. The boy who broke jaws on the ice was completely shattered.

I turned back to the table.

I signed my name on the dotted line.

Then, I looked over my shoulder one last time.

I met Adrian's bloodshot eyes.

I didn't cry. I just formed a single word with my lips.

*Go.*

The bailiffs grabbed my arms and hauled me toward the holding cell door.

Six months later, the visitor phone felt heavy against my ear.

Thick bulletproof glass separated me from the outside world.

Vanessa sat on the other side, wearing a designer trench coat. A smug, razor-sharp smile played on her lips.

"You look terrible in orange, Evie," she noted, crossing her legs.

"Why are you here, Vanessa?" I demanded.

"Just giving you an update on your boy." She tapped a manicured nail against the glass. "Adrian is a mess. The PTSD is eating him alive. He drinks until he passes out."

My stomach twisted. "Stay away from him."

"Oh, I can't do that." Vanessa laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "He needs someone to take care of him. I actually moved into your old apartment last week."

I slammed my free hand against the counter. "Don't touch him!"

"He likes when I make his coffee," she continued, completely unfazed. "He cries in his sleep, you know. Calls your name. But when he wakes up, I'm the one sitting on the edge of the bed. I'm the one holding his hand."

"You're sick."

"I'm winning." She leaned closer to the glass, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "You gave up your whole life to save him. And now, I get to keep him."

"He doesn't love you," I spat.

"He doesn't have to," she replied smoothly. "He just has to need me. I wear your old perfume. I sit on your couch. I'm building a whole new life on top of your ruins."

She hung up the phone.

The line went dead.

I watched her walk out of the visitation room, her hips swaying, leaving me trapped in a concrete box.

A guard tapped my shoulder. "Time's up. Back to your cell."

I stood up, the metal chains dragging across the floor.

Vanessa thought she had won. She thought Adrian would just forget me and become her broken little pet.

But she didn't know what Adrian was capable of when he finally sobered up.

And neither did I.