Constance’s hand finds mine, gripping tight. “We’ll be with you. Every second. He’ll believe it.”
Adelaide nods, her lip trembling, but she doesn’t let go of me either.
The night feels heavier when we finally move toward the door.Every step aches, like grief has seeped into my bones, slowing me down, weighing me down. Constance wraps her arm around me as we leave the warmth of the house. Adelaide hovers at my other side, clutching her sweater tight, her wide eyes darting between me and the darkness beyond the porch. And Jacob— he doesn’t touch me this time. He just walks ahead, his shoulders broad, his presence filling the space like a warning carved into the night itself.
My chest tightens as I glance back at the house—at the soft glow of the kitchen light spilling through the window. The last place Mama and I shared a hot drink. The last place Papa told me he loved me. Now they’re gone. Gone in blood, smoke and silence.
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste metal. My throat burns, but I keep moving.
Because I’m not alone.
They’re here—these three. The only three who matter now.
Constance, solid and stubborn, holding me up when I want to collapse. Adelaide, soft and shaking but still with me, still refusing to let me face this without her. And Jacob. Dark. Relentless. Dangerous. But mine.
They’re all I’ve got left. The only reason I can force air into my lungs. The only reason I can keep walking toward the truck instead of crawling into bed and letting the world continue to turn without me.
I cared for Benny. God, I cared. Enough to dream about escape. Enough to believe in softness. But Jacob’s words keep echoing in my head, gnawing at me like teeth.
He knew before I did. How?
The question digs deeper with every step. I try to shake it, to shove Benny back into the box of things I can’t bear to think about. But the doubt won’t stay quiet. Jacob is right.
How could Benny have known?
Constance steadies me, her arm tightening around my waist. She holds me closer, whispering softly, “Almost there, sweetheart. Just a few more steps.”
The truck looms ahead, dark metal glinting under the porch light. Jacob moves toward it without a word, yanking the door open witha fast motion, like even the hinges should fear him. For a heartbeat, I want to turn back. To run upstairs, bury myself under the covers. But I don’t.
Because Mama and Papa deserve more than silence.
Because Constance and Adelaide deserve the truth.
Because Jacob—God, help me—deserves to be right.
Chapter 22
The Stranger in His Bed
Summer
The glass doors slide shut behind us. The light inside is too bright, the hospital scent fills my nostrils, smelling of bleach and something metallic that makes my stomach churn. Constance and Adelaide flank me like guards, but it doesn’t help. My skin prickles with unease as we approach the reception desk. The woman behind the counter smiles automatically, then blinks at me—my red-rimmed eyes, damp hair sticking to my cheeks—and her smile falters.
“I’m looking for Benedict Harrow,” I manage, voice raw. “He was brought in tonight.”
Her fingers hesitate over the keyboard. She types, pauses, her expression pinching like she’s holding something back. She forces a tight smile. “One moment, please.”
Constance shrugs and Adelaide makes a confused face.
She disappears through the door behind her desk. The seconds stretch, too long. My stomach knots tighter.
The door opens again—but it isn’t the receptionist.
It’s a man in uniform. Boots striking tile. A badge glinting under fluorescent light. His eyes sweep the room, then lock on me.
“You,” he says, pointing, already closing the distance. “Come with me.”
Before I can even breathe, his hand clamps around my arm. Firm. Unyielding.
