Talon scoffs. “I’m not?—”
“You threatened her,” I remind him. “You’re pissed, and it’s not helping. Stay here and get your shit together, and keep an eye on your fucking mother.”
His mouth shuts so fast his teeth click.
Penelope whispers, “I can’t vanish without saying something.” She glares daggers at me, but she doesn’t argue. She turns and walks toward her father, shoulders tight and brave.
Talon watches her go, eyes burning with something dangerous. “This isn’t over.”
“No,” I say calmly. “It isn’t.” He storms off before he hears the rest.
Penelope returns, pale and shaky. “He bought it.”
Silas nods. “Good. Let’s go.”
We guide her out the side door, away from the music and laughter that feel like they belong in a different reality. By the time we reach her car, she’s quiet, like her mind is somewhere far away and spiraling fast.
“Keys,” Silas says gently.
She hands them over without hesitation.
I slip into the passenger seat while Silas starts the engine. Penelope folds herself into the back, dress swishing around her legs.
Silas pulls onto the road. And from the backseat, barely above a whisper, Penelope mutters. “Perfect. Not only have I fucked my step-uncle, my soon to be stepmom's dead husband’s brother...but also let their nephew finger blitz me in a supply closet. Amazing… I'm doing just great!”
Silas chokes on his own breath.
She covers her face instantly. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“You did,” I say, somehow managing not to laugh or swear. “And I think we all needed the honesty.”
She groans. “Kill me.”
“No,” I say. “We need you alive.”
“This is hell.”
Silas glances at me, then at her through the rearview mirror. “We’re in it with you.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” I add.
Penelope peeks between her fingers, eyes exhausted but warming. A tiny smile breaks through.
It’s messy.
It’s insane.
It’s dangerous.
And somehow—God help us all—it feels like the beginning.
TALON
I watch her taillights disappear down the drive. Penelope’s car, with both my uncles inside it, carrying her away from this place and from me. My chest feels tight in a way I refuse to examine too closely.
The party noise swells behind me. Clinking glasses, polite laughter, someone fake-laughing a little too loud. String music floats through the open doors, like the whole house is insisting this is a pretty night and nothing bad is allowed to exist inside it.
Too late.
