The New York skyline growing on the horizon would be beautiful if I wasn't afraid for my life.

There are no goons and baddies holding Hayden and I up at gunpoint. We didn't lose control of our vehicle in the fast-paced traffic clogging the arteries into the city. The view in front of me is absolutely breathtaking. Aside from the fact that we're just a few cables snaps away from plummeting into the ocean.

There is something about being on a complex structure of cable, concrete, and metal high over dangerous water that freaks me out. It's like every bad scenario and action movie disaster comes rushing into my mind.

What if the bridge breaks? Today out of all days, it's going to somehow collapse. I'm going to die. The road is going to break in two and I'll fall through the cracks! The sharks in the harbor will get me!

Thankfully, we arrived in Brooklyn without much of a hassle. Abigail's hideout turns out to be above an art gallery in a rundown building along the water. With its glossy appliances, interesting art pieces, and weird-shaped furniture, I can't help but feel overwhelmed by the expensive apartment she's been calling home. And here I thought she was staying in some low-key bunkhouse.

"I'm sorry I only have one guest room," Abigail apologizes as we sit in her equally large bedroom.

I smile, hoping she doesn't notice how I have to force my lips apart. "It's okay." She eyes me warily and I'm thankful I'm not the only one uncomfortable with this conversation. We haven't properly spoken to each other in years and now, when we have the chance, it's coming from one of the worst circumstances. "We'll figure something out," I continue. "I don't mind sleeping on one of those fuzzy couches you have in the living room. They look amazing."

Continuing to avoid my eyes directly, Abigail gives a nervous laugh. "Yeah." She pauses and finally looks at me, breathing deeply as sadness constricts her pretty face. "I'm sorry about all this with Derek and Hayden. And this apartment and your mom—I'm sorry it had to happen to you."

"It's not your fault." It's the truth. She didn't drop the memory stick into my purse. She didn't drag me into the woods after Hayden.

"I know," she frowns. "It's just—with all of this, I haven't exactly been a good friend. When I saw you on his radar, I tried to steer him away, Ember. That day in the deli, I pretended not to notice you for that one reason. I'd been dying to talk to you as soon as I got back."

"I understand." I would have done the same. I don't tell her that. "But it would have been nice to hear from you after you left."

The guilt that passes over her features feeds satisfaction to a small, childish part of me. I want her to catch a taste of how painful it was to lose a friend so quickly and without answer.

"I was going to say something. I swear I was." She looks as though she wants to say more, but doesn't. Why doesn't she? What else is she hiding?

I'm about to ask her this question when a knock on her bedroom door makes us jump. Seconds later, Hayden pops his head inside, his eyes closed as he shouts, "I'm coming in! So if you're not naked, I suggest you get naked now!"

Hayden Cross, here to save the day from awkward tension. Who would've thought?

"Oh my God, Hayden, you're such a pig!" I laugh and hurl a cushion at him.

Abigail gets up from her couch and begins to shove on the door, Hayden still half in and out of the room. "Out!" she screeches. "There will be no nakedness, Hayden Cross!"

He pushes back in retaliation, but the angle of him being wedged in the threshold works against him, and with a heave, Abigail sends him tumbling back into the living room with a loud crash. But this does not deter the bad boy. Swearing profusely, he successfully opens the door to another cushion being launched in his direction. Hayden laughs, unaffected by the sequin plush that smacks him in the face, and walks in, settling down right across from me on the couch. The space is small to begin with. But instead of finding his way to a new couch with more room, Hayden Cross decides the best way to share the couch with me is to place my legs in his lap.

What is he doing?

Only, the thought is more of, WHAT IS HE DOING? And then some.

Hayden's gray eyes momentarily study the exposed part of my calf—great time to change into shorts, Ember—and his fingers gently brush my knee in little circles. It's a harmless gesture I shouldn't pay so much attention to. But I can't stop staring at his fingers, his hands, as my eyes move up until I'm startled by the intensity of his stare.

"This is so weird," Abigail says when she gets on her bed. It severs the connection. I look away.

Thank God.

"What?" Hayden asks with a tilt of his head. I look from him to Abigail, both staring at each other with raised eyebrows.

"You two! I mean the jokes, the road trip, and this," she's referring to the position we're sitting in. "Never in a million years would I have ever imagined you two would be civil to each other let alone sit like buddies."

"It's weird how things can change so fast in the blink of an eye." The corner of his mouth twitches.

Quiet settles over the room and I let out a long sigh, changing the subject to something we should be really focusing on. "Okay, I've been asking this for such a long time now and I need some straight answers. What are we going to do about Derek exactly?"

"Stop him," Abigail answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yes I know that," I growl in frustration. "But what? Where? With who? I don't even know what's going on here. I agreed to go on this road trip, but I have no idea what's happening."

Abigail looks at Hayden with narrowed eyes. "You didn't tell her what we were doing?"

Hayden sits up. "Hey! I don't want to give her false information. I'm not one hundred percent sure on what we're doing either."

Abigail rolls her eyes. "Your obnoxious friends didn't tell you? Chase didn't tell you?"

Chase is involved in this as well? Where have I been this entire time? Who else is attached to this pack of crazies?

Hayden's eyes darken and he grumbles under his breath. "We're not exactly friends right now." When Abigail nods her head for an explanation, Hayden tucks my legs under his arm. "We had a disagreement."

I snort. "More like they tried to kill each other in the cafeteria." Hayden glares. "On more than one occasion."

"Well then you two better kiss and make up quick," she warns. "We need everyone cooperating. Chase is going to be here tomorrow morning and I have a few friends coming in tomorrow afternoon. We're already behind schedule. Tomorrow evening, h-Derek is going to be in Brooklyn and that's when we stop that crazy asshole from doing whatever he thinks he can do."

"So what is Derek doing exactly?" I begin to ask.. Abigail looks at me and a sudden jolt hits my heart at the sadness beneath her angry brown eyes. She seems to flinch at every mention of Derek's name. I wonder how hard it must be for her to do this. This was someone she'd been dating for almost five years.

Feelings like that don't go away so easily.

"Derek is a very controlling person," she begins slowly, dangerously. "It's like some physical need for him to rule over someone or something. For the longest time it was me he controlled—besides his friends and...business partners. I never really cared because I loved him. I mean Derek can make you lose every ounce of common sense with just a look." Her eyes shine with a memory and she laughs to herself. "He used to bring me these huge flowers as a joke. He wasn't as crazy as he looks now. Or maybe he was. Maybe I just pretended not to notice."

I swallow the dryness in my throat. "I'm so sorry, Abby."

Abigail continues. "His older step-brothers used to be a part of this group in his old neighborhood. They were affiliated with some big whigs in organized crime out of Europe. He always talked about them like they were superheroes. They were to a kid who didn't have anything. Something happened back in two-thousand-and-ten involving the Feds. I don't know what it was, only that a lot of people died and it forced his family to move to Chicago. The group disbanded in the process."

"I was wondering why we had to come here instead of going to Chicago," I say.

"It's been Derek's plan for the past few years to get them back together. The Punishers. He's trying to be smart about it: peddle some weapons to get into Illinois, designer drugs, and stuff like that. Use the suburbs to avoid suspicion. Since The Punishers originated here in New York, he's meeting with some of the original members.

"Maybe even those crime bosses they used to work with in the past," Hayden adds.

I shiver. Crap.

Abigail shudders. "They're small fish in a big ocean. It will be chaos and we need to stop Derek from meeting with those guys and setting up a disaster.

"Organized crime works in two ways," Hayden says. "They can either slowly take control of a place over the span of a couple of years or they come in and resume their totalitarian reign within a couple months because they know how everything works."

I swallow the dry lump in my throat. "How are we supposed to stop him? If it's as serious as you say it is, how are a bunch of teenagers supposed to go against murderers?"

Abigail smiles a smile that has the same underlying hint of insanity found in Derek's wicked grin. "Who says it's just a bunch of teenagers?"

This time, I'm sure my eyes are two seconds away from popping out of my head.

"We have a few people helping us. Some are ex-members who don't want this shit going on anymore. Others are friends we've made along the way. They've been watching him."

"Besides, Derek Rodriguez is on parole and doing this is a big fat violation." Hayden adds with a smug smile. The evil look in his eyes is a little scary.

Abigail smiles. "All the Feds need is to catch him in cahoots with the wrong people, and he's gone forever."

It sounds so easy.

I look at Hayden. "And we're here because...?"

"Derek wanted me to come with him to these meetings."

My jaw drops open. "Why you?"

Hayden exhales a deep, exhausted sigh. "You're not the only one with a cop in the family."

My mind flashes back to Matthew, Hayden's father, standing in Principal Miller's office with pictures of Derek. He must be a high-ranking something or another, and probably in the very task force Derek and his minions want to avoid. It was evident by that one single encounter that Hayden and his father don't get along. That was confirmed by the fact that the bullish man tossed his son into a coffee table, accident or not. Surely with enough digging, and a connection to the legal system, Derek learned about Hayden's resentment for his father. And what better way to make sure Matthew Cross didn't catch on to Derek than to have his son be a part of it? To get close with his father. To say or do things necessary to thwart any kind of investigation?

Hayden continues. "He wanted me to deal with my dad. He wanted Corry on the inside of Valleyfield PD. I..." He rakes a hand through his hair. "I did a lot over the summer for him to want to bring me here. I told him I couldn't come because of...well, you, Ember."

"Me?"

"Some excuse about our prank war getting me shipped away to my uncle's for a stern talking-to this weekend. I told him that I wanted to come, regardless. So I said I would meet him here in the city."

"And, what?"

"Be a double agent?" he shrugs. "He wanted me to feed him information from my dad. I'm doing the opposite."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Your dad is okay with using you as an informant?"

Hayden swallows a laugh. "Isn't he the best?" Sarcasm drips from his words and my stomach rolls.

And here I thought having an alcoholic mother was a nightmare.

"Why did you want me to come with you?" I ask, breathless.

His silvery eyes meet mine and I have to take a step back from how intensely he watches me. It's unlike the intensity I've seen before; where a taunt or an action makes the cogs in his brain turn furiously to get back at me. It's different. It's grave. "I have put you through a lot, Ember. And so has Derek. I wanted you to see Derek and all those other morons who hurt you in handcuffs with your very own eyes."

My chest tightens. A picture would have been fine. But... I think back to the bullet hole in my mom's side. No, he was right. I wanted to see this.

"And," he adds. "I hope it's the first step in making things right with you."

Our eyes lock and I'm too stunned to speak. Hayden Cross wanted forgiveness well before our conversation in the car? I try to shake the confusion out of my mind.

"I thought I wanted revenge after what happened last year. I did, at first. But the moment your mom... I knew it had to stop. I hope you're not angry at me for dragging you out here. You'll be here, with Abigail. You'll be safe. I just... I want you to see them behind bars with your own two eyes, and say everything you need to say to them."

Without a second thought, I throw my arms around Hayden Cross' neck. "Thank you," I murmur into his shoulder, aware of his tense shock. "Thank you."

* * *

I've seen my share of breathtaking views. I've seen the way the strawberry-colored sun gently dips onto the rocky shores of the Wisconsin River. I've seen how the early morning sun illuminates the forest on a late summer morning. I've seen a triple scoop, hot fudge sundae with caramel, rainbow sprinkles, and extra whipped cream on top.

But nothing is close to the view of New York City at night. Standing on the roof of Abigail's apartment, I take in the skyline, and the way the moon commands the sky, despite all the lights and glamour. It's around ten o' clock and while Abigail is locked in her room speaking feverishly to a friend about tomorrow, Hayden is fast asleep on the couch. He fell into somewhat of a food coma around dinner. Seven slices of pizza, three bowls of mac n' cheese, and a couple bags of chips can do that to a person. But I wouldn't be one to talk about considering I hate five slices and two bowls.

Rope lights line the roof, casting a low golden glow on the floor. The roof is a good place to think. The wind carries your infinite thoughts away and you don't have to worry about clogging the room with worries. Everything is as light as the breeze. I lean against the side, watching the city, thinking. About everything. About nothing.

"You know you're talking to yourself," a voice comes from behind me. "Some people might think you're crazy."

"I already feel like I am," I say to Hayden, my eyes still on the cityscape. A sudden gust of wind whips through my hair, the cold air matching the sudden chill of my mood.

"I'll have to agree with you on that." Hayden says coming up beside me, and leans against the railing. "Whoever said crazy is a bad thing? I mean, we're all a little crazy trying to do this."

I turn to look at him. "So, finally out of your food coma then?"

Hayden wrinkles his nose, hand rubbing his stomach in large circles. "I don't regret anything."

I point a finger up at him, saying with a dead seriousness. "If you do anything to the bathroom, your ass is done for, Cross. There are only two bathrooms in this apartment and if you mess one up, I'm—I don't even know what I'm going to do! But it won't be good!"

"Wow, besides the fact that you're threatening me and my gasses, I find that really arousing, Emmy. Have a little faith."

"Oh shut up," I say, trying to hold down a laugh. Hayden's light eyes flash with amusement and he ruffles my hair like I'm a little kid.

"See," he grins when I can't even keep a scowl on my face. "You're in a better mood already. Hey, don't try to hide that smile—you're not fooling me, Emmy."

My cheeks warm. "Can you teach me how to defend myself?"

He's surprised by my request. "You want me to teach you how to fight? Here? Now?"

"We're in a new city with people who know who I am. I need to protect myself in case anything happens."

"You're not going anywhere near the action while it's happening."

"Okay. But you don't know that, do you? Besides, a girl should know how to defend herself regardless."

It's a weak explanation, but it's the only thing I can think of that would ease my anxiety at this very moment.

"Right now?"

I shrug, making my way across the roof under the lights and, with my arms pressed firmly to my sides, bow. "Please teach me the ways of the bad boy fighting style."

Hayden crosses his arms and looks at me with pure amusement. He comes over and towers over me, gray eyes becoming steely and cold the way they used to be when he looked at me. So full of hate—the way my eyes looked as well, no doubt. I remember how it formed a sour taste in my mouth.

Hayden instructs me to turn around and I do. Slowly, he raises his hands and wraps them around my neck, resting his arms on my shoulders. I gasp in alarm, hands coming up to tear them off. He doesn't budge. A sudden panic fills me. He's going to kill you. My body goes into instinctive tenseness. Hayden places his thumb on my trachea and gently pushes. I involuntarily groan.

"Relax," he orders in a soft voice. When I relax, he tightens the grip on my neck. I exhale deeply and nod for him to continue. "Whenever you're in a situation like this, being calm can make all the difference."

"Okay, stay calm," I breathe. "I can do that."

"Good. Now tuck your arms into your chest like you're about to pray, okay good. Now as fast as you can, lift your arms up and try to get them through the gap of my arms and slam the heel of your hand into my chin," Hayden instructs.

I look at him unsure, "Will you get hurt?"

Hayden's lip pulls up in a half smile. "Don't worry, I think I'll be okay."

"Well if you say so." In one motion I throw my arms up in the way he told me, turning so that the end of my spin sends my palm right into Hayden's chin. His head snaps back, hands automatically falling from my neck. I shove him and take a giant step back. Hayden curses, rubbing the bottom of his chin.

"Ouch!"

"You said you'd be okay."

"For being the size of an elf, you pack quite a punch."

"You just noticed that?" I smirk. Hayden takes a few steps forward and I jump into a karate stance with one leg in the air and arms up like hooks. "Back!"

"Okay! Okay!" Hayden turns to walk away, looking over his shoulder. And the next thing I know, his fingers wrap around my ankle to yank me forward and I head straight for the cement rooftop. Another hand grabs my wrist and before I hit the ground, Hayden tugs me upright.

I press a hand to my racing heart and glare at him. "Are you trying to break me before we get Derek?"

He yanks me straight into his chest and I bang my forehead against his rib cage, stars appearing in my vision. "Second rule," Hayden's voice rumbles from his chest into mine. "Never do those moves unless you want to fracture your skull."

"Gotcha." I stifle a gasp from the pain in my forehead. What are his ribs made of? Steel?

"Are you okay to do something else?" Hayden asks, eyeing the redness on my forehead. I nod, waving a hand for him to continue. Hayden takes a step back and puts two fingers in the groove right under my chin, tilting my chin up. "You can actually control a person like this. Always keep your fingers here and keep some distance. As long as that happens, nobody can touch you. If you want to get away flick their head back and hard as you can and fucking run."

He lets go.

I move to test the move on him but Hayden jumps back, holding his arms up. "Oh, no. I think you can do this just fine. No need to try it out."

"Mhhhmm," I cock my head to the side and make a clicking sound with my tongue. "I think I can take Derek now, thank you very much."

Hayden doesn't say anything, seeming unsure of what to say to that. I study Hayden curiously, a million different thoughts racing through my mind at once. Here I am with Hayden Cross on the rooftop of some apartment in New York City to take down a psycho gangster. What are the odds of that?

"Hey, Ember?" Hayden whispers.

I turn to look at him, my heart racing for reasons other than our combat practice. "Yeah?"

Hayden never gets the chance to speak. At first it's a little flicker of silver light from the building across from us. Something small that catches my attention for a moment. And the next thing I know, Hayden shoves me away from him, absolute horror on his face.

"Run!"

The door to the roof bursts open and figures dressed in black spill onto the concrete. There's nowhere to go. We're completely surrounded.

* * *