He nods, satisfied.
Then he turns and walks back through the door, back to his cell, back to the life he's been living for twelve years.
Vanna is quiet as we leave the prison.
Quiet as we walk to the truck.
Quiet as I open her door and help her inside.
But when I slide behind the wheel, she reaches for my hand.
"Thank you," she says. "For being here. For all of it."
"Always."
She leans her head against my shoulder and closes her eyes.
Within minutes, she's asleep, exhausted by the emotional weight of the day.
I drive through the winter landscape, my wife beside me, our baby growing inside her, and I think about everything that's happened.
The attack. The vote. The promise we made in that chapel.
Virgil is going to die.
It's not a question of if, but when.
And when that day comes, I'm going to be the one to pull the trigger.
But for now, I drive. I hold my wife's hand.
And I pray that everything I'm doing will be enough to keep them safe.
One day at a time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Vanna
February settles over Morgantown like a heavy gray blanket.
The days blur together in a rhythm I'm slowly learning to love.
Wake up next to Garrett.
Eat breakfast in the clubhouse kitchen with whoever else is stumbling around at that hour.
Go to my NA meeting at the community center on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Help Aunt Ellie stock the bar.
Fold laundry. Make dinner. Fall asleep in my husband's arms.
It's boring. It's mundane.
Yet, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced.
For years, my life was chaos.
