Page 1 of Even Exchange

PROLOGUE

I expected blood, just notsomuch of it.

Although it’s hardly a fraction of the amount he’s spilled.

My hand trembles, the gun’s cool metal a stark contrast to my volcanic veins.

Any remnants of guilt have dissipated.

After all, this washisfault.

He came here.

He pressed the pistol to her temple with a vow of vengeance.

He laughed when I begged him to stop.

Regret should be racing through me.

At the very least, remorse.

Instead, all I feel is relief.

1

NOAH

Halloween

If this sorry excuse of a man opens his mouth one more time, the remaining ounce of my control will break. Scratch that—it’ll shatter into eight billion pieces because there’s no way Jonathan said the words “Charlie has to learn when she’s hit her limit”after forcing fourteen shots of vodka down her throat.

My gaze fixates on the bathroom door Charlotte disappeared through, her disco ball costume scattering light around the room as she went.

Is she okay?

Jonathan mumbles another idiotic, unintelligible comment, the smug look on his face begging to be beat right off. Although, considering I’m a black belt in Taekwondo, they’d probably deem my fists lethal weapons, and I’m really not in the mood to go to jail. Again.

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. Nothing angers me more than a man, or in this case a little bitch boy, who disrespects their partner.

Elijah, my backup quarterback and best friend, nudges me, our eyes connecting as he shakes his head in warning.

He’s right. Some bottom-feeding fuck boy won’t be the reason I mess up my hand and risk my entire career.Pretty hard to throw a football with broken knuckles.Not to mention, I’m still relatively sore from getting the shit knocked out of me in the game earlier tonight.

A few girls exit the bathroom, laughing, and the door swings shut. No sign of Charlotte.

Screw this.

My desperation to check on her overpowers my desire to deck this douchebag, so I drag myself away, heading toward the women’s restroom.

What the hell are you doing, Caruso?

Reaching out, I grip the door handle.

She’s not your problem.

Slipping inside, I ignore the girls primping, although they certainly notice me, and scan the ground for Charlotte’s tall sparkling boots. Scattered geometric light reflects under the handicapped stall, and a bear-like growl paired with a half sob reinforces my suspicions.

The door is partially open, and I peek hesitantly inside.It’s her.Releasing a breath of relief, I join her, flicking the lock. Crouching down, I place a hand on her back. She sighs, gripping the toilet bowl as I rub soft circles, unsure of what to say.

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