Rain.
My sneakers hit the pavement the second I step out of the taxi. I break into a run toward the police station, my chest heaving with anxious thoughts.
There is no way Colt would’ve burned his house.
His house?!
They are clearly mistaken. It must be.
Someone must be trying to frame Colt. When I reach the entrance, I stop at the small crowd.
A cluster of reporters, fills the side entrance of the station. The flash of their cameras momentarily confusing me.
What the f**k?
In the center of the chaos is Colt framed by the officers.
He looks smaller than I’ve ever seen him. His shoulders, usually broad and confident, are hunched forward, his wrists bound by handcuffs. Beside him, stands Elena her face set in a mask of fury as she tries to shield him from the cameras.
"Colt Walden,
