I've decided that I hate hospitals.

They're not doing Ethan any good, for one thing. He still looks like complete crap. It doesn't matter how many times I visit him—he never looks any better. And today is no different. I walk into his room and there he is, sitting upright on the bed with his eyes closed peacefully.

I walk over and perch on the end of his bed. The nurse told me not to do that, but I couldn't care less. My being close to Ethan isn't gonna kill him. After a minute or so with no movement, I sigh and snap my fingers in front of his face.

"Wake up, you lazy bastard," I grumble.

His eyes flicker open. "Someone's grouchy," he mumbles. I sigh again and rub my face with the palms of my hands. "Bad day at work, sweetie?"

"Fuck off," I mutter and move my hands away before looking at him. "You look awful."

"Thanks," he says. "It's not like I got stabbed or anything." I look down at my hands. "Oh, stop that!" he suddenly says.

"What?"

"Looking like someone just kicked you in the testicles," he says. "I'm fine, Tyler. Look at me. I'm happy, breathing and still a sarcastic, pessimistic asshole."

"I put you in here, Ethan," I say.

"No." He narrows his eyes at me. "Your boss did."

"Because of me!" I blurt out.

"Jesus, Tyler," he groans. "Is that it, then? You're just going to sit and wallow away in guilt? Snap out of it, Ty! I'm still breathing."

"For now," I mutter without thinking. Ethan chuckles. He pushes himself up and I go to stop him, but he moves my hands away. He leans over to me and clasps a hand over my shoulder.

"Carl already made his point," Ethan says. "He already hurt me and he got to you by doing so. He's not coming back for me, he's too smart to do that. He's not going to use the same pawn over and over again. He'll hurt others, and then he'll try and lock you—checkmate."

"Franny," I whisper.

Ethan frowns. "The brunette?" I nod and look away sheepishly. I hear Ethan sigh. "God, your timing's shit."

I ignore the last statement and look back up at him. "What I don't get is why he's doing it. If I was that much of a problem, he could kill me, get the guys to beat me until I'm dead. He could fire me, forbid me to walk back into his circuit ever again. But he hasn't. Why?"

"You know Carl better than any of us," Ethan points out.

"I barely know him," I say.

"That's a lie," Ethan says and I frown at him. "Come on, Tyler. You were messing around and going through tons of sketchy crap last year when you found out about your parents. Carl was the one that took you in. Something happened during that time—you know him."

"I don't want to."

"That doesn't matter. Knowing anything helpful about Carl could stop you from getting killed."

"Why hasn't he shoved a knife in my stomach then?" I ask. "Huh? He's stabbing everyone else."

"Who's stabbing people?" A new voice comes from behind me and I turn around quickly just as Ethan's eyes widen.

Detective Franks stands in the doorway, hand lifted as if he were about to knock.

"What?" I stumble out.

"Sorry, I overheard something about a stabbing?" Franks says, his eyes narrowing down on me. "Tyler, wasn't it?"

I nod mutely.

"I wasn't aware you knew Ethan," he says. "Why didn't you tell me when I was talking to Francesca? Your thoughts would have been very valuable."

"I didn't know you were looking into Ethan's attack, too. Didn't realize they were linked."

He narrows his eyes. "I thought that would have been obvious. Nonetheless, you're here now. Mind if I ask a few questions?"

My shoulders tense but I nod my head. The detective smiles and comes forward, not sitting but standing above me. Ethan is silent behind me.

"So, your name is Tyler," he says and I start to tell him my last name too but he cuts me off. "—Tyler Madden."

I frown. I don't remember giving him my last name. "Eighteen years old, full-time student, the son of Colton and Heather Madden, and currently under the employment of Carl Kingsley."

My entire body tenses, freezes and shuts down. The detective sees the look on my face and reaches into his bag, bringing out a pile of papers in a folder. He holds it out to me enough for me to see the front.

"This is a file on you. I was given access to it after someone tipped me off about you."

I breathe out loudly through my nose. "Someone ratted me out?"

"You got many enemies, Tyler?" the detective asks.

"I don't know," I say quietly.

"Well you might want to add a couple to your list," he says. "Five people anonymously tipped me off. Two last night, three this morning. I was going to head to your home after talking to Ethan here. I'm ready to make an arrest."

"Arrest?" I choke out.

"Hey, he doesn't need to be arrested," Ethan says. "He didn't do shit."

"On the contrary, Mr. Carter. Your friend's done a lot. He willingly entered himself into an illegal organization and might have even aided someone with murder."

"What the hell do you mean, murder?" I ask loudly.

"Didn't you know?" Detective asks. "Last week, a man called Peter Suthers, who we had known to be fighting in your circuit, was found dead. We believe it was Carl Kingsley. But he was aided. That kind of manslaughter couldn't be done alone."

"And you think it was me?" I ask.

"I'm keeping my options open," he says.

"I didn't kill anyone!" I say. "You can't arrest me. Please, you can't arrest me."

The detective smiles. "Oh, I'm not arresting you."

I frown and hear the sheets move behind me as Ethan shifts his body. "But I thought you said—"

"I'm not interested in getting a high school kid that's never had a criminal record behind bars," he says. "Stuff like that doesn't pay. And it's a shitload of paperwork that you're not worth. Kingsley though, I could get him in prison for years. Runs an illegal fighting circuit? Has a murder under his belt? Assaulted two men? That's the kind of stuff that I'm after."

"So, if you're not arresting me, then why are you here?" I ask.

"Simple. I need to get to Carl. But he runs a tight ship. I can't make allegations without evidence. And right now, I don't have enough. I need insider information. How to get in, out. Where he is, what he does. Little things that piece together into one big, finished puzzle at the end—and get him locked away for life."

"You want him to be your rat," Ethan scoffs.

"In a way, yes," the detective says. "I have a feeling you don't want to be under Carl's control anymore. And by the way your friend was butchered over here, Carl's starting to notice that, too. You're young and this isn't safe. But if you help me, and my team gets him locked up, then all allegations against you are gone. One squeaky clean record. You can get into college, get a job and live a good life. You just have to help me."

"Are you even allowed to do this—Make deals?"

"If it gets Kingsley off the streets then no one will bat an eyelash. We want criminals in jail, Tyler, not teens that screwed up their lives."

I close my eyes and sigh, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. Ethan is quiet behind me and I can hear my heart thumping against my chest. "What if I say no?"

"I don't want this to seem like blackmail," Franks says, "but a criminal is a criminal. And if I can't get Carl, then you'll do."

My heart stutters painfully and I clench my jaw.

"So what do you say, Tyler?" he says. "Will you help me? Will you help get Carl locked away for as long as possible?"

I look up at him and finally, after a few moments of silence, nod my head.