The Liberator (A Dante Walker Novel) (Entangled Teen) by Victoria Scott

breath. “And yeah! I went shopping. Got a new dress.”
    “—that’d fit an American Girl doll.” Annabelle howls with laughter.
    “I bet you look hot,” I say. And it’s the truth. I can picture her now, all legs and hips and big, innocent eyes. I bet she looks like Little Red Riding Hood, attracting all kinds of wolves.
    “I look pretty good,” she slurs.
    “Try amazing ,” Annabelle interjects.
    “Amazing,” Charlie says, “I look amazing. And you look beautiful, Annabelle. Bobby’s an idiot.”
    I adore her confident words, even if I know they add up to a lie. She’s never been comfortable with her appearance, and I can’t think of anything that would’ve made that change.
    Briefly, I think about mentioning the collector who was in my room but decide against it. I don’t want to scare her, and I know Valery and Max have her safety covered. For now, the best thing to do would probably be to get off the phone and call it a night. Then maybe call her again in the morning when I know she’s sober. But even as I think this, I know it’ll be hard to get off the phone. I know Charlie, which means I know she’ll want to keep talking until the sun comes up.
    Charlie yawns through the phone. “Hey, I better run. Got to get some shut-eye before school tomorrow.”
    My mouth drops open. She’s got to run? Trying to maintain what pride I have left, I recover quickly and say, “Yeah, I’m pretty beat, too.” And then, because my heart starts to race at the thought that she’s actually about to hang up, I add, “Hey, how many days you got left before winter break?”
    I already know the answer to this question, and Charlie pauses like she knows I know. “Just this week. Then it’s Play Day every day.”
    “Play Day, huh?” I say. “I don’t like the sound of that one bit.”
    Charlie laughs lightly. “Good night, Dante.”
    I squeeze my eyes shut. “Good night, angel. Tell Annabelle I’m sorry about Bobby. Guy’s a douche.”
    “Wait,” Charlie says, as if I were about to hang up the phone, which I wasn’t. “You know I miss you, right?”
    Rubbing a hand over my face, I grin. “That’s good to hear. I miss you, too.”
    Charlie hangs up, and I sit with the phone pressed to my head for several seconds before leaning back on the naked mattress. Thoughts of Salem and Easton try to wiggle their way into my mind, but I shove them aside and think of Charlie.
    Gripping the ivory horn in my fist, I concentrate on the feel of her lying in her bed. I think of the way she looks when she laughs, and the way her skin smells. And with a knot in my chest, I think of how tonight she sounded like someone else entirely.
    Despite the surge of anxiety I felt earlier, I cling to Valery’s assurance that for now, all is well.
    My eyes slip closed, and I fall into a deep sleep.

10
    Here I Am to Stay
    On the ride over to Aspen’s house, I think about the collector who paid me a visit last night. There’s not much I can do but keep my guard up. Not like I can go running around Denver trying to sense a cuff nearby. Dumb.
    So instead, I focus on my assignment. I focus on the fact that Valery said Aspen was important, though that could mean a thousand different things. I know it’s not her fault that I’ve been sent to liberate her, but right now, I’m feeling resentful. After all, if she had her shit together, I’d be back with Charlie. So yeah, I’m not a happy camper this morning. But a job is a job, and no one can pull tricks like I can to get crap done.
    It’s painfully early as I cruise through Aspen’s gate and head up the drive, but I’ve got to catch this girl before she heads off to school. After killing the engine and striding up her walkway, I stop and admire myself in the glass door. Looking mighty fine, if I do say so myself: red v -neck, dark denim, designer combat boots, and enough testosterone rolling off me to satisfy Nicki Minaj. Pow!
    I knock once on the ten-foot tall door and wait