“Are you staying?” “Rory—” “Are you staying?” I repeat, louder this time. “Are you going to stay on the Coast, take over Devil’s Dip and protect me, my father, and the Preserve from your uncle? Or are you going to leave me to fight this on my own?” His silence is deafening. As I look up at him, he runs his tongue over his teeth, breathing heavy. “Use your words, Angelo,” I spit at him, mimicking what he often says to me. “You know I can’t.”
