“No, I need more vodka.” Her eyes are glassy and she’s having a hard time holding herself up.
“I think it’s time to get you home.” Tag pulls her toward the entrance. “We’ll see you guys back at the squat,” he yells to me.
I nod.
Nikki turns around and points one red-tipped finger at me. “Remember what I said, Lydia. It can always get worse, but that doesn’t mean you give up.”
The music has changed from techno to old-school rap: a guy talking in slow tones over a catchy melody. I glance toward the deejay booth, and then push myself up off of the wall. LJ and Maria have disappeared.
I frantically look around the club. But I can’t see anything: it’s too dark in here, with too many people. I knew we should have taken Maria and gotten out of here, but LJ didn’t want to worry her. He said he would watch out for her during her set, and I agreed, confident that the Montauk Project wouldn’t try anything around this many people. But maybe I was wrong.
I head for the nearest exit, but a boy with a shaved head steps in front of me. His lip ring catches the light even in this dim basement. “You’re too fine to be sitting in the corner all night,” he says. “Let’s dance.”
“I can’t, I’m in a hurry.” I try to move past him, but he blocks my path again. “Move,” I say.
“Don’t be like that.”
“I said move.” I shove at his chest and he takes a step back. But he grabs my arm before I can get away.
“And I said don’t be like that,” he snarls, and squeezes my skin hard enough to leave a bruise.
Suddenly he’s ripped away from me and knocks into a crowd of people. I hear a shout as someone spills their drink.
Wes is standing in front of me, glaring at the punk kid. His hair is messier than usual, as though he’s been running his fingers through it.
“Wes.” I ignore the commotion and focus on him. “We have to find LJ and Maria. They disappeared.”
He nods, and we push through the crowd. We find the exit and run up the dusty stone steps. Kids are sitting on them, some drinking and talking, some making out, and we weave around them. Outside, the air is humid, but at least it’s not as oppressive as it is in the club. We’re on a side street, and there are people everywhere, waiting to get inside or smoking cigarettes.
“I don’t see them.” I sound panicked.
“There.” Wes points to an alley next to the church. We run over to it. A white van is parked on the far end. As I watch, a flash of dark hair disappears into it, and I hear the jagged sound of the door sliding shut.
The van pulls away with a squeal of tires.
“Maria!” I scream and run down the alley. By the time I get to the end, the van is nowhere in sight.
“We have to do something,” I pant at Wes. “We have to go after them.”
Wes puts his hand on my back. “She’s gone, Lydia. They have her now.”
“But—”
“We need to find LJ,” he says.
“LJ,” I repeat, and turn and run back to the club. I hear Wes follow me.
LJ is not outside. He’s not on the steps. He’s not near the long line for the bathroom.
“Please let him be okay,” I murmur under my breath as we push our way through the dance floor.
I feel someone touch my shoulder. “Lydia.”
It’s LJ. I throw my arms around him. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” I chant into his ear.
He pulls away from me. “Have you seen Maria? I can’t find her anywhere. She said she had to go to the bathroom. I was waiting outside the door, but she never came out. I even went in there. It was empty.” He spins around in a circle, wildly searching. We’re blocked on all sides by people moving to the rhythm of the music. “We have to find her.”
“Let’s go somewhere we can talk,” Wes says.
LJ’s eyes look huge under the tiny lights. “She’s gone, isn’t she? Oh god, they got her.” He buries his face in his hands. “I thought I could save her. I thought I could keep her safe.”
He suddenly grabs both my shoulders and shakes me so hard my teeth rattle. “We’re next. They’ll get us. They’ll kill us. We can’t run.”
I pry his fingers off me. “LJ, we can. Maria didn’t know they were coming. But we have a chance.”
He shakes his head. I reach for him, but he puts his hand out. “No. No. I need to be alone. I need to think about this. I’ll . . . I’ll see you guys later.”
“Wait—”
He disappears into the sea of dancers. I start after him, but Wes stops me. “Let him go.”
“It might not be safe.”
“They’re not coming for him now. Let him be alone.”
It goes against all of my instincts, but I turn away from LJ’s departing back.
Wes and I stand in the middle of the dance floor. Even surrounded by people, I feel completely alone. The adrenaline from searching for Maria is wearing off, and the constant beat of the music pounds inside my head.
Wes turns to face me. He bends down until his mouth is next to my ear. “I’m sorry about earlier.” I feel his breath against my neck. “The thought of you having anything to do with the Montauk Project makes me crazy. But I shouldn’t have acted like that. I won’t leave you alone in this.”
I lean into him. So he can hear me over the music, I tell myself. “I don’t want to be right, if it makes you feel better.”
“I hope you’re not.”
“Me too.”
Someone jostles me from behind and I fall forward into his chest. His arms close around me. I want to press against him, to crawl inside of his skin just so I’ll know what it feels like to be safe again.
I hook
