“Is she your girl?” Locke’s eyes widen, and he shoots a look at Kylian, then me. “Well, she…” “She’s my girl,” Kylian declares as his phone alarm blares. He holds it up for emphasis before silencing it. The hour’s up. “She’s his girl, too,” he adds, jutting his chin toward Locke. He doesn’t bother looking my way. I can’t make any sort of claim on her. At least not yet. “Well, you’re my boys,” Kendrick reasons, nodding at me. “All of you. We’re a family. And family protects their own. Let’s go get our girl.”
