Delaney’s safe.
That’s the only sentence my body seems capable of believing.
She’s sitting on the couch now, curled up with a blanket and a mug of coffee that’s gone cold because she keeps forgetting to drink it. Her eyes are tired, but she’s here—breathing, blinking, alive—and every time I look at her, something in my chest loosens.
I’m in the kitchen pretending to be normal—washing a glass that doesn’t need washing—when my phone rings.
BANKS lights up the screen.
Of course.
Because chaos doesn’t call ahead, and neither do Hawthorne brothers.
I answer. “If this is about Mom sewing a wedding dress, I’m hanging up.”
Banks’s laugh is sharp and brief. “Good to know you’re still alive.”
“Barely,” I mutter, eyes flicking to the living room. Delaney lifts her gaze like she can feel the sound of his name through the walls.
Banks’s voice turns serious. “Listen. I’m not calling to give you crap.”
“That’s new.”
“Don’t get used to it.” A beat. “I heard what happened.”
My jaw tightens. “Yeah.”
“You handle it?”
“We got her back,” I say, and my voice goes rough on the words. “Kyle’s in cuffs. His buddy too.”
“Good.” Banks exhales. “I’m proud of you.”
That lands heavier than it should.
Banks isn’t the emotional one. Banks is the brother who learned to turn feelings into currency and silence into armor. Hearing pride from him is like hearing thunder in a clear sky.
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
He clears his throat, like the moment got too honest and he needs to pivot or he’ll choke on it.
“Alright. Here’s the real reason I’m calling.” His tone sharpens. “A man named Dean Maddox is going to call you. Maddox Security. Out of Saint Pierce.”
I frown. “Why is a guy from Saint Pierce calling me?”
“Because I talked to him.” Banks doesn’t soften it. “And because you need to listen to what he has to say.”
I go still. “You talked to him about what?”
There’s a pause—just long enough for me to know Banks is choosing his words.
“About Dad,” he says.
The air in the kitchen changes.
My hand tightens around the glass. “What do you mean?” I rasp out. “Not unless?—”
“Not unless… he might be out there,” Banks cuts in, voice low. “I have a lead. Maddox has resources. Real ones. And he thinks—” His breath hitches. “He thinks there’s a chance Billy Hawthorne didn’t die the night we were told he did.”
