Kade’s [POV]

“Seven fifty-five. They should be here any minute,” Aden murmurs, glancing at his wristwatch.

He draws the hood of his black hoodie up over his blond head, the brightest thing up this dark tree, and curves his body around the khaki-colored rifle he has wedged between two branches.

I leave Aden alone for the next couple of minutes, watching as he sweeps the rifle over a patch of grass with enough tire tracks for it to serve as Rylan Treveilers’ parking lot. He takes his ...