Minxy exhales and leans into Talon again. “I’m tired.”
“You can sleep,” I tell her. “We’re all here.”
She curls under Talon’s arm again, already half-asleep, dumpling crumbs on her sweatshirt. Talon keeps stroking her hair, his face tight with grief and love and something like fire.
Gideon rises and surveys the room again, posture firm.
Silas moves back to the window.
I take a place beside the couch, keeping one eye on Minxy and one on the door.
Minxy didn’t just give us details. She gave us motive. She gave us the truth. She gave us the final piece of the story Abi has been hiding behind for years.
She gave us a reason to end this.
And we will.
Because Minxy isn’t broken.
She’s brave.
And we’re going to burn down anyone who ever made her think she wasn’t.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
PENELOPE
Minxy falls asleep fasterthan any of us expect.
An hour ago she sat at the coffee table, tearing up her Chinese food feast, telling us how her mother killed Todd, drained Randy’s accounts, and staged Dominic’s death. Her voice shook, but she didn’t break.
Silas carried her to the guestroom, tucked her under one of my fuzzy blankets, and sat on the edge of the bed with his hand resting on her ankle until her breathing evened out. Talon stood in the doorway the whole time, eyes red, like he didn’t trust his sister was here still.
The Chinese containers sit half-open on the table. Gideon’s cleaning up, probably trying to keep himself busy so he doesn’t explode from knowing his sister is a serial killer.
Can you be a serial killer with two bodies under your belt, or do you need more?
Doesn’t matter… a killer’s a killer.
Silas and Talon come out of the room, and Talon sits on the couch while Silas helps Gideon put the food in the fridge and wash the few cups and silverware we used.
I give them a moment and go down the hall to my room, but stop to peek in on Minxy on the way. She’s curled on her side, hand clutching the blanket, hair falling out of her braid like a messy halo. She looks even younger in her sleep. A kid who should've been worrying about first school dances and bad math teachers, not whether her mom was murdering husbands like it was a hobby.
I close the door quietly and turn to head to my room.
“Is she okay?” Talon startles me, shoulder propped against the wall, tats visible where he’s shoved his sleeves up, eyes rimmed red behind his lenses.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “She’s out.”
Gideon steps out of the kitchen like he’s been waiting for his cue. “You two go decompress. Silas and I will handle things out here and listen for her.”
Talon opens his mouth to argue, but Silas speaks first. “She’ll sleep for hours, I’m sure. She finally feels safe. You’re no use to her if you’re tired.”
Talon huffs but doesn’t push it.
I rest my hand on his arm. “Come to my room for a second?”
He nods.
