Her voice was calm. Steady.
But the question hung in the air like a blade.
My brothers exchanged looks. Quick. Knowing.
We all knew the answer.
There was only one way to deal with someone like Victoria. Someone who'd killed our mother. Someone who'd come to Joy's family home and made threats.
Victoria needed to be killed.
Or we were all very much on the menu.
I met Joy's eyes, and I saw the moment she understood.
Not because I said it.
Because she saw it in my face.
In my brothers' faces.
In the cold, hard certainty that settled over the room like a shroud.
This wasn't about justice.
This was about survival.
And survival didn't leave room for mercy.
24
JOY
The room felt smaller after Byron finished speaking.
Not physically—there was plenty of space in my parents’ living room—but emotionally, like the walls had leaned in a fraction, listening. Like the house itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what kind of people we were going to be now.
I stood there for a second too long, my arms folded tight across my middle, trying to keep everything inside me from spilling out all at once. Fear. Anger. Understanding. The strange, electric awareness of Micah’s presence at my side—close enough that I could feel the heat of him, steady and contained, like a storm disciplined into stillness.
This was not the life I’d been living a month ago.
This was not the girl my parents thought they knew.
And somehow, that didn’t feel like loss.
It felt like arrival.
“I think,” I said quietly, surprising myself with how calm my voice sounded, “you all probably need to talk.”
Every Dane head turned toward me.
Micah’s eyes met mine immediately, sharp and searching. He knew what I was doing—stepping back, making space, choosing not to be in the center of something that didn’t belong to me. Not yet.
“I’m going to check on my family,” I added. “We’ll be outside.”
Byron nodded once, gratitude flickering across his face. Micah’s brothers didn’t argue. They didn’t need to. Whatever came next was theirs to carry.
Micah’s hand brushed mine as I turned away. Not gripping. Not stopping me. Just there.
