“Did you hear her admit to involvement in previous deaths?”
“Did she point the weapon at you? Your sister? At the others?”
Each one is a hard pill to swallow.
I repeat Mom’s words, her screams, her confessions.
I tell them how she raised the gun.
How she aimed it at Penelope first, but at some point it was aimed at all of us.
How Chad stepped forward right before everything went to hell.
I hear my voice shaking, but I don’t stop. Because that feels like letting her win, and I owe my dad more than that. He deserves better than that.
Across from me, Penelope is talking to an officer too—her hands tremble, but she doesn’t break. Silas stands not far behind her like a shadow, arms folded, daring anyone to push our girl too hard.
Minxy is taken to the tailgate of an ambulance, Gideon hot on her heels. A blanket is put around her shoulders, and there is nothing but anger in her eyes as a female officer speaks to her. She speaks with precision when they ask her what she heard, what she knew. Not one tear is shed, and she doesn’t flinch either.
Gideon stays stone still beside her, answering only when addressed, but his gaze never leaves Minxy’s face.
Recounting the fucking Lifetime movie we just survived feels unreal. But the more we speak, the more real it becomes.
We tell them everything.
Every lie our mom spun.
Every bruise she left emotionally or otherwise.
Every missing piece suddenly fits now that her mask is gone.
And with each word, I feel something tighten and then snap inside of me. It’s not grief or even rage. It’s freedom…
We survived her. Now we have to survive everything that comes next.
Chad gives his statement last, face pale, eyes empty. When he finishes, he walks toward me with the slow, broken steps of a man who doesn’t know how to exist in his own skin anymore.
“Talon,” he whispers.
I stiffen. But he hesitates, then rests a shaking hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice cracking. “I didn’t know. I should’ve listened. I should’ve seen it. I should’ve protected all of you.”
The apology lands somewhere I’m not ready to look at yet.
But it doesn’t make me angry. It makes me feel…tired. So goddamn tired.
“It’s done now,” I say softly.
He nods, tears streaking down his face. “Yes. It is.”
The police load Abi’s body into a van.
The officers thank us for cooperating.
They tell Minxy she’s brave, that I’m strong, and we’re all damn lucky to be unharmed.
And suddenly it’s just us again.
