For a moment, it feels like we actually won. Rodriguez is surrounded, shouting as the officers cuff him and drag himaway. The whole room buzzes with shock and relief. Gates pockets Carrie’s phone, already talking to his team about evidence and warrants. I finally let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
But the relief doesn’t last. Agent Gates turns to us, face kind but tired. “Unfortunately, you all did break out of prison. I can’t just ignore that. I still have to put you under arrest.” He looks at each of us, his gaze lingering on Carrie. “Were you helped by anyone on the outside?” The question hangs in the air, meant for her.
I shake my head before she can answer. “No. We did it ourselves.”
Gates watches me for a moment, and I see that he gets it. He gives a small, sympathetic nod. “I understand. But my hands are tied. The law’s the law.”
Officers come to cuff us again, separating us from Carrie. I let them, not resisting, just turning for one last look. Carrie stands rooted to the floor, tears in her eyes, clutching her bag like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
As they start to lead us away, she steps closer, just enough for our arms to brush. It’s barely a touch, but it sends a jolt through me—everything I want to say pressed into that single moment.
I meet her eyes and mouth the words, “I’ll come back to you.”
32
CARRIE
It’s been months since everything crashed down and rebuilt itself around us. The days blend together now—court hearings, phone calls, the quiet ache of waiting. The guys are still in custody, and every morning I wake up wondering if today will be the day something changes.
I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing out my hair, trying to make myself look put together. I’m five months along now, and it’s starting to show, even with the loose blouse I pick out. My hand settles over my belly. I’m plus-sized, so the bump is softer, rounder, but it’s there—undeniable, living proof of everything I’ve survived and everything I’m still fighting for.
My phone buzzes on the counter. Marcy’s name flashes on the screen. I hesitate for a moment, not sure I have the energy to deal with her nervous energy, but then I pick up. “Hey.”
“I’m waiting for you at the curb,” she says, her voice softer than usual. “I’ll drive. Don’t keep me out here, it’s freezing.”
She’s moved out of her old place but hasn’t left town. It’s easier that way, easier for both of us to keep an eye on each other, even when it hurts. I grab my coat, run a brush throughmy hair, and take one last look at my reflection. I force myself to see the strength there, not just the changes.
Part of me wants to beg off, say I’ll just drive myself, but I know I can’t do today alone. I slip on my sandals and make my way downstairs, squinting in the morning sunlight.
When I get outside, Marcy is parked by the curb, waving from behind the wheel of her little hatchback. I slide in beside her, tucking my coat around my belly.
“Big day today,” she says quietly.
I nod, biting back a thousand fears.
Marcy drives quietly for a few blocks, both of us lost in our own thoughts. The sun is bright on the windshield, turning the world outside almost too sharp to look at. I catch my reflection in the side mirror—round cheeks, tired eyes, one hand resting on my belly—and I wonder how I’m going to get through this day.
I glance at my sister. I still feel guilty about leaving her in the woods. But paramedics picked her up right after, and it’s not like I could be seen at the hospital where cops could easily spot me. Marcy understood when I went by to see her later.
Marcy finally breaks the silence. “You look good, you know. You’re really showing now.”
I give a half smile. “I feel huge. My back hurts. My feet are swollen. And I don’t think I slept more than three hours.”
She glances over, something soft in her eyes. “You’re strong, Carrie. I don’t think I could do what you’ve done. What you’re still doing.”
I shrug, but her words settle somewhere deep. “I don’t have a choice, do I? We just keep going.”
We fall quiet again as the courthouse comes into view, tall columns, flags snapping in the wind, clusters of people gathered on the steps. My heart starts to race. I think of Jace, Levi, Nico, and even Whale, waiting somewhere inside for whatever comes next.
The courthouse lobby buzzes with nervous energy—lawyers hurrying by, families clutching coffee cups, deputies shifting behind the security desk. Marcy and I pause just inside, scanning the crowd. Wilson spots us first, waving from a bench near the courtroom doors.
He stands as we approach, straightening his jacket. “Glad you both made it,” he says, voice gentle. “They’ll call us in soon. Marcy, you’re on the list as an independent witness, just like Carrie.”
Marcy nods, jaw set, trying to look braver than she feels.
Wilson gives me a reassuring look. “The judge is fair. You did everything right.”
My heart pounds as the bailiff opens the doors. We move inside, taking our seats near the front, the room quiet but tense. I search the benches for familiar faces and see the press clustered in the back, notepads in hand.
