It’s been almost a two weeks, but I don’t know what I expected after we killed him. There’s no manual for how to scrape the blood off your skin—literal and not—no step-by-step for washing your nightmares out of your hair. The first thing I remember is the water. Riot pulled me into the shower and Jasper followed. Their hands were gentle, careful. They scrubbed my skin as if they could erase the past if they tried hard enough.
They were silent at first. Just let the water run over us, warm and endless, until I started to shiver and then sob. They held me through all of it. Riot pressed kisses to my temple, whispering about how I was free and safe. Jasper’s hands never left my waist, grounding me, reminding me I wasn’t alone.
The police came two days later; they were still looking for Blake. The whole house banded together—Silas, Micah, Macee, Ash, and Jace. Nobody let them near the basement. Riot lied through his teeth, andJasper never let go of my hand. We got through it.
They came back. Different day, same badges—Detective Michael and a younger partner who did most of the talking. They asked careful questions like when I’d last seen Blake, whether he’d ever threatened me, if I’d noticed him following, if I needed a protective order. I told them the truth I could live with, that he’d terrorized me for years, I’d gotten away, and I was safe now. They left a card. They called two more times to “check in”, voices soft with practiced empathy.
When they found him a few days later, the official ruling was self-inflicted… no suspects… next of kin notified. One more call from the detective, a final pass at the same questions, and then just… silence. No cuffs. No court dates. No statement to make the news.
Could it really be that easy? My mind still tries to snag on the word. Easy isn’t exactly right. It was… handled. The boys made sure the story the world found matched the truth I could bear. I escaped. He didn’t. The end.
Every bruise is healing, along with every scar, every memory. There are days when it still hurts, when I flinch at shadows, or the nightmares crawl under my skin and remind me what it felt like to be powerless. But then I remember what it felt like tochoose.To stand up and say,No more.
Riot teases me now about how I looked sexy in blood, that he’d kill for me all over again. Jasper shakes his head and pulls me closer. We’re a mess, but it’s our mess.
The bands are going back on tour in a few days. The guys’ fans have been incredibly supportive and understanding during their time away. Macee has gone back home now, but I don’t think I could have gotten through this without her. She’s supposed to be joining us on some of the stops for the next two months.
I look at myself in the mirror every morning now. I no longer see a victim. I see a survivor. A lover. A girl who learned that sometimes you have to become a monster to defeat one.
If you’re reading this, if you’re ever scared again, ever feeling like you’re too much, too broken, too lost just remember this:
You get to choose how your story ends.
You get to decide who you are after the darkness.
I chose love. I chose myself.
And for the first time in my life, I am free.
—Sawyer
***
I sign my name at the bottom of the page. It feels final, heavy and light all at once.
I take a second to just let myself breathe. The house is quiet, but humming with life. I close my notebook, tuck it away, and push to my feet, drawn to the pull I always feel when I think of him.
I go to find Jasper in the writing room. He’s on the couch with one knee up, phone in his hand, guitar next to him. The second he sees me, he opens his arms like he’s been waiting all day for this exact moment. I sink into his lap, curling against his chest, and he wraps me up without hesitation.
He brushes a thumb along my jaw. “How’d the therapy-writing go?”
I sigh, letting the weight of the letter melt away. “Good. I think Iactuallyneeded it.”
He grins, all wicked dimples and soft eyes, and leans in to kiss me—slow, gentle, a thousand unsaid things in the way he holds my face. When we break apart, he tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear, searching my eyes.
“Riot around?” I ask, but his face says everything.
“Oh, I don’t know where he is,” he teases, feigning innocence. “He might have… something planned for you.”
I narrow my eyes, grinning. “You’re a terrible liar, Reign.”
He shrugs, mouth twitching with mischief. “You’ll have to go outside to figure it out. I’d hurry, if I were you.”
My curiosity lights up. I press a kiss tohischeek, wriggle off his lap, and bolt for the stairs. I can hear Jasper’s quiet laughter following me, a promise in every step.
When I make it outside the skyis paintedin purple and gold, the first hints of twilight creeping in. I step out onto the patio, cool stone beneath my bare feet, and spot a folded piece of paper on the table. My nameis scrawledacross it in Riot’s messy handwriting.
My heart flips. I snatch it up, unfolding the note with shaking hands.
