My family, somehow.
Silas places a hand on my back. Gideon grips my shoulder. Penelope takes my hand and lifts it to her lips.
“I’ve got you,” she murmurs against my skin.
Something breaks open in my chest.
For the first time since I was a kid, I let myself cry. Not loud or dramatic. Just quiet, steady tears that I don’t have to hide anymore.
Minxy tucks herself against my side as Penelope leans into me and my uncles stand guard.
Abi tried to destroy everything we had left.
But she failed.
We’re still here.
Still standing.
Still together.
And tomorrow?
Tomorrow we start over.
Without her shadow or control.
For the first time in my life, I think we might actually be truly happy.
Epilogue
Talon
Gideon’s livingroom smells like coffee, laundry detergent, and the lemon cookies Penelope made this morning. The TV murmurs in the background until the familiar news jingle snaps my attention up.
A reporter stands in front of a run-down crack house, police lights flickering behind her.
“Breaking update in the Abi Grant case. After a multi-state search, authorities located and arrested Jensen Rowe, alleged accomplice and long-term partner to Abigail Grant—known to investigators as the ‘Money Bags’ killer. Rowe was finally found and brought in for his role in multiple staged deaths.”
The camera cuts to Jensen being dragged out in cuffs, head down, hair greasy, shouting something unintelligible as officers shove him into the back of a cruiser.
My stomach knots, but not the way it used to. This time, it’s closure tightening every muscle, not fear.
The screen switches again—this time to an interview chair.
Randy.
Alive. Grey-haired. Noticeably healthier than the last time I ever saw him.
“Abi drained my accounts,” he says to the reporter. “Threatened to ‘finish cleaning me up’ if I didn’t keep quiet. I barely escaped. I thought no one would ever take me seriously.”
A picture of my father flashes across the screen. Then Todd.
Penelope reaches for the remote and places it in my hand.
I turn the TV off.
She leans against me, her head against my shoulder, her fingers slipping between mine. On the couch across from us, Silas and Gideon are reviewing the paperwork spread across the coffee table—legal forms, social worker notes, custody options. Minxy sits cross-legged between them, doodling on a notepad while stealing sips of Silas’s coffee.
