P R E S T O N
seven years ago

BLACK smoke floods the morning air hanging around long after the fire is put out.

But there is no sun to shine. No brightness.

Only darkness.

Sirens nonstop fill the air for hours as we all nervously hide out in the large tunnel in the forest behind my house to get our stories straight, and anxiously wait for the other shoe to drop. I'm barely holding it together. No matter how many times we review and repeat our lies the tension in me continues to build and tighten like a rubberband about to snap until I'm pulled apart piece by piece. My heart won't stop racing and my skin is constantly covered in goosebumps as chills run down my spine every minute of every hour that passes.

And then Nathaniel is brought in for questioning.

We quickly find out through some family friends in the police force that a few cameras in the neighborhood caught him scoping out Lucas's house a few times leading up to the fire.

None of the security cameras caught us or Lawrence's car on the actual night, but they had Nathaniel. They also had footage of him buying the large jugs of gasoline from the local station.

They had their evidence. They even had texts between him and Lucas with Nathaniel threatening to hurt him. They had their motive. We've even had a past with fire before, though Nathaniel's judge father and Everett's lawyer dad were able to sweep it under the rug.

But this one couldn't be swept away, because Lucas didn't survive the lethal flames. He died, and his father was seriously injured and barely hanging on in the burn unit.

All because of what my friends and I did. Because of the fire we started.

The day after Nathaniel is brought in, so are we. Because he's never been one to go down alone. If any ship is sinking he's going to make sure everyone around him is not only going to sink, but drown alongside him.

In the seventy-two hours that have followed the fire our lives are turned completely upside down. Someone leaked our names to the press and since then we've been the talk of news nationwide. Reporters have been on the scene since the first 911 call came through, and outside our houses as well. So it's not surprising that they are also outside the police station as we are brought in from questioning.

Cameras and microphones are shoved into my face as people yell questions at me.

"Did you start the fire?"

"What's your connection to Nathaniel Gregory?"

"Mr. Rothwell, do you think this will affect Rothwell Motors stock?"

The questions continue to be shouted at my father and I, but I train my face to remain expressionless and my eyes focused on the ground.

We enter the station and my father remains by my side as we are escorted to a waiting room. We are all underage, which means an adult has to accompany us for our questioning.

I know my father is beyond furious at me. He has been since we got the call to be brought in. But he doesn't say anything. His face is practically stone with how lifeless and cold it is. But I see it in his brown eyes that mirror my own. The fiery anger. The utter disappointment.

From a young age my father put a lot of pressure on me to perform and succeed and be better than everyone else. To assess the people around me and always be a step ahead. A level above. Surprisingly he never had an issue with our pranks. They were trivial and small, and even if we did get caught and in trouble he would always bail us out.

He once told me that boys like me need an outlet, something to hone their emotions into so their darker desires don't take over. He raised me to be sharp, strong, a leader, and do whatever it takes to get to the top, but he never raised me to feel anything for anyone. Their emotions were nothing compared to who I was and who I needed to be for my father.

My mother is the one who taught me to care, and I'm thankful she did or I'm scared of who I really could've become even at the age of fifteen.

Because every ounce of the darkness we had in us was set free until those desires caused demise and a devastating mistake was made.

But for a moment, barely even a second, I enjoyed those flames. I was hypnotized by the dancing fire. I was lured in by the exhilarating wickedness of it all.

That moment didn't last long though before the excitement that rippled through my veins singed into something so dark it made my stomach drop with nausea.

I always assumed I knew our limit. I knew where our darkness ended and our morals began.

But as I sit in a room with my friends and I meet Nathaniel's eyes I realize I don't know our limits. I don't even know where they truly begin. Because he doesn't look scared, like Everett, or pissed off, like Lawrence.

He looks smug as he sits back with his arms across his chest and a smirk that makes my skin crawl on his lips.

He isn't remorseful I realize. At all. He doesn't care. He believes he's above it all.

And for the first time I realize that he has much more in him than I ever knew. He can and will do more. This won't stop him. It will only spur him further.

The knowledge is chilling.

Because we killed someone. Our hands are and always will be painted red with a classmate's blood.

We heard the screams. The sirens. The smell of gasoline. For fucks sake I'm scarred not only on the inside but on the outside from that night.

But Nathaniel doesn't care.

My hand reaches out of its own accord to touch my cheek to feel the scab forming. I can't help but flinch as the image of the tree falling enters my head and takes me back. My pulse starts to pound and I can hear the blood rushing wildly in my ears.

"Do you have a lawyer?" Everett asks, his voice drawing me out of my deep hole of stress. I notice he keeps his eyes trained on me as his knees continue to bounce. He's on edge and I know he wishes he had some weed or alcohol to calm him down. Any vice. Anything to lean on when he's feeling this low.

I nod once, rubbing a hand down my face. "Yeah. My dad just called him," I say as my eyes fall to my father on his phone across the room.

Everett then turns his attention to Lawrence next waiting for his answer.

"Law?" he pushes.

His blue eyes stay focused on the wall in front of him refusing to look at us. "He said not to speak to you guys," he admits gruffly.

"Why? We are good...right?" Everett asks as he looks at him nervously. I can see the real question in his eyes.

We have something Nathaniel doesn't. Guilt rips through me at the realization, but at the same time it was him that got us in this position in the first place. But at the end of the day we all still had a hand in that death, and the remorse that sears in my veins will never lessen.

"We are good unless you open your mouth and say something stupid," Lawrence barks at him letting his anger crack his perfect veneer.

"Calm down. Calm down. We are fine. They have nothing. They have a tape of me in the neighborhood days before, but the footage doesn't show any of us at the house," Nathaniel pauses before looking around, "because we weren't there," he emphasizes with an intensity shining in his brown eyes that make my throat dry up.

My stomach flips at how casual he's acting about everything.

"Mr. Rothwell," my name is called out and it makes my heart stop dead in my chest for a moment before it revs up and goes into overdrive. I stand up and meet a tall female detective who leads me and my father into a small room off the side of the room we have all been waiting in.

It's an integration room and I swallow the large lump in my throat at the acknowledgment. My eyes land on the two-way glass and I can't help but wonder who, if anyone, is on the other side watching. It's cleaner and nicer than it appears in the television shows and movies. It's brighter and not as dingy and old. But it's still rather simple with only a table and a handful of chairs.

My hands slick with sweat as we all sit down and my heart rattles in my chest loudly.

The woman sits across from me and my father. She has a notepad in front of her and she lounges back in her chair casually. "How are you Preston?" she asks. She looks nice enough but I'm not stupid enough to believe she is on my side. I know an act when I see one.

"Fine," I answer shortly. None of us were technically charged so we agreed to come in for a talk without a lawyer, but I still know to not say too much.

"Good. Good. I'm glad," she continues keeping the air light as if we aren't in this room because a kid died. "Well I'm Detective Roman but you can call me Melinda," she introduces herself.

"Okay."

"So why don't you tell me what you did the night of the twenty-sixth." She sounds kind and her voice is easy and conversational, but I don't let myself fall into her trap.

I shrug, keeping my face impassive. "I was hanging out with my friends."

She nods as she plays with the pen in her hand. "Yeah, Nathaniel said you were all together," she states, but I don't slip up at her leading question.

I shake my head. "I wasn't with Nate."

Her eyebrows scrunch together. "Really? Then who were you with?" she questions as she leans forward until her elbows rest on the cool metal surface of the table.

I don't hesitate. "Everett, Lawrence, and Aiden." The lie falls from my lips as if it's the truth. But for all anyone else will ever know it is the truth. I've said it so many times, had it ingrained in my head so deeply, a part of me is eager to believe the lie in lieu of the twisted truth.

"Aiden?" the detective inquires.

"Aiden Davenport," I clarify as I watch her write down his name.

"You were with him last night?"

"Yeah, all of us," I tell her.

"So you weren't with Mr. Gregory buying gasoline or wandering around a home that's not yours?" she pushes calmly.

But my father cuts in. "Don't answer that," he instructs.

The detective's eyes narrow a bit at my father, but she doesn't dwell on it. She moves on to her next question. "Did you know Lucas Taylor?"

"He went to my school."

"Did you know him personally?"

"Not really," I admit, and that is the truth. We didn't run in the same circles. We were friendly enough in passing because our families attend some of the same events each year, but we had never been friends. The most I knew about him was when he started dating Nathaniel's ex-girlfriend, Rachel, and he became obsessed with Lucas.

"Did you know him and Nathaniel weren't getting along?"

"Don't answer that," my father once again interjects.

Melinda shoots me a gentle smile. "You can if you want," she says, ignoring my father and focusing all her attention on me. "You look like you're holding something in, something heavy. Maybe guilt?" she prods.

Her insinuation hits too close to home and sparks sharp guilt from within me. But I channel it elsewhere and focus on what I need to do here. Right now. Nothing else. "I have nothing to hide," I say sternly. "Go talk to the others."

A tight smile lifts her lips. "I plan to Preston," she says and the words make me want to run away or throw up. But they also make my bones solidify with the lies that are now my truth. I hold strong in the knowledge that my friends won't betray me just like I won't betray them.

I stand up with my father and as we leave the room I glance at Lawrence and Everett and nod softly at them to reassure them I held strong.

My eyes then land on Nathaniel to see his eyes narrowed in on me before he looks at our friends beside him. He knows something is up as I watch as our friends avoid his gaze.

We go out the back of the station this time so there are no reporters shouting at us. We climb into the black sedan and our driver takes off as my father and I sit in complete silence.

"Aiden Davenport." he finally says. He doesn't question it, he simply states the name. He taught me to follow through and to cover my tracks.

"Yes," I answer.

"Will he corroborate?"

"He will."

"No texts?"

"None."

"You did one smart thing then," he remarks before his phone rings and ignores me as he takes a work call.

♢

One week later Nathaniel was officially arrested for arson and murder. The three of us were arrested for arson and manslaughter. It didn't matter that we had an alibi. Nathaniel was determined to drag us down alongside him no matter what.

The town flooded with shock and horror at the announcement of our arrests. Four prominent, influential, and wealthy families involved in the death of a US senator's son. These were the sins that nobody talked about. The ones that laid so deep under the surface of this old money town but they'd finally boiled to the top.

It's messy and dark and everyone was on edge as the town we once all knew like the back of our hands changed in an instant. It's as if everyone's realized for the very first time that hell was a lot closer than heaven ever was.

We were all processed together. Fingerprints taken. Mugshots snapped. We all post bail immediately but had to turn in our passports since the DA decided we were all major flight risks. Then we were sent home, but with strict orders from all our lawyers to not interact with each other.

But that didn't stop us. It couldn't. We had to make sure everything was air tight. So Everett, Lawrence, and I all wound up in a cement tunnel where no one would come looking for us. We knew we couldn't have any proof of conversations between us for the courts to get a hold of. So the cold and smelly tunnel in the forest behind my house became a safe space for us to talk freely.

For us to realize that that night had bonded us in a way nothing else ever could.

Our names were splashed across every news outlet, every tabloid, people couldn't even walk by us without whispering. But most everyone kept their distance as if we somehow developed some deadly communicable disease.

We quickly came to the conclusion that we only had each other from here on out. Nathaniel picked up on our distance instantly and he kept to himself, but that only made me fear what he could be up to when left to his own devices.

But we stayed strong in our alliance, and Aiden kept his promise to us.

He never wavered in his lie, and from that point on he became a part of the group in a way. He wasn't really our friend, but he was a necessity. One we couldn't lose.

November is cold as the sun falls and the moon rises in the sky. It's dark as the streetlights flicker to life outside Aiden's house.

I stand there with my hands stuffed into the pockets of my thick winter coat. As I look at the house in front of me I can't help but think of the girl with long brown hair and bright green eyes who lives inside the large house on a hill. It's then I see her. As if I thought her into existence. I see her through the window as she climbs the grand staircase. She pauses as if someone's talking to her. I can't make out her face, I can barely see what she's wearing. But I feel her as if she is right by my side.

I feel her warmth. Her strength. The way she wants to be seen for her mind rather than the beauty she doesn't even realize she possesses. My hands clench wishing she was beside me at this moment.

But seeing her, even from this distance, brings everything into perspective, and it's like a gunshot to the chest. It's loud and takes me off guard and makes me gasp in audible crushing pain.

But it's also needed. Because I now know the truth.

I can never have her. I can never sit by her side as she reads. I can never hold her hand. I can never kiss her and hold her and worship her. Because Jameson Davenport can never get wrapped up in my life. This life. This darkness will follow me forever. Shit, there's a chance I'm sent to jail for what happened.

And she deserves better than me. Better than this mess I am now wrapped up in. A mess that now includes her brother and lies so deep I don't think she could ever forgive me or my actions. I know I won't.

Aiden finally walks down his long driveway pulling me from my inner turmoil. He's tall for his age, but his face is so boyish and innocent it makes regret tug at my chest for involving him.

"What's the emergency?" he asks as his words puff out small clouds into the midnight air.

I don't answer him. "Come on," I instruct and begin to walk towards the tunnel without explanation.

He doesn't say anything, but he follows behind me like a puppy. Loyal and eager to belong. Even when that loyalty could ruin him and his reputation for years to come. I want to shake him for his stupidity for agreeing to this, but I don't because he's also saving my ass.

We finally enter the tunnel to see Everett and Lawrence standing near an old metal trash can that is roaring with flames to keep us warm.

It's weird being around fire after what happened. I hate it, but I also feel closer to the flame now.

I lift my hands out above the can to feel the warmth. "Hey," I callout to my friends.

They nod at me and Aiden who stands off to the side.

I don't waste time getting into business. "My father thinks we should all have the same lawyer since our charges differ from Nate's," I explain.

"My dad said the same thing," Everett agrees.

"Will he represent us?" I ask. He's known for getting even the guiltest of humans off. He's slimy and willing to get his hands dirty, and for his son he would do anything. Between him and Aiden it has us perfectly poised to get off scot free.

It makes me feel weird that we could get off even though we were there. We were involved. I did strike that match. But we were down to set a bush on fire. Not a house. We agreed on a prank, not a murder.

Everett nods. "Of course."

"Now that that's settled," Lawrence begins as he takes over the conversation. "King has an idea," he trails.

"What?" I push. We were only here to talk about the case. No idea was ever brought up.

Everett bends over and I notice a large black duffel bag for the first time by his feet. He pulls out a small hand held machine. I can't quite tell what it is until he lifts the tip.

"Oh fuck no," I express taking a step back.

"Why not?" Everett presses and I can smell the weed wafting off of him. It's the only reason he's so calm right now.

"All good lies need skin in the game. This is ours. This is what ties ours together," Lawrence explains.

"You support this?" I ask shocked at him being for this stupid notion. Lawrence is always the voice of reason. Even when we don't want it.

He shrugs. "Why not? They are already calling us names. I'd rather lean in then act afraid," he states. So logical. Never emotional.

"Lean in?" I ask with curious eyes.

Everett hands me a piece of paper with a simple drawing sketched across it. My fingers trail over it and I pause as I take it in. This is truly leaning in. All the way in.

And for a moment I close my eyes and think of the green eyes I love.

Jameson's eyes always brought me back from the edge of the complete destruction of my soul. She always reminded me of who I wanted to be. Who my mother saw in me versus the darkness my father continued to try and coax out.

But that night turned us. Changed us forever. It let us become the wicked and tarnished versions of ourselves we never expected but my father always wanted.

So I smile and let him win because I can never have what I truly want, which means I can never win. So I agree to lean in instead. "I'm in."

All eyes then turn to