“I don’t think—” Mom started.
“Yes.” I stood. Wobbled. Found my balance thanks to Niall and Nolan. Kept it too, thanks to them, since neither agreed to release me when I told them I was good.
In truth, I probably wasn’t.
After fitting my shaking arms through the sleeves of Dad’s coat, they led me to the water’s edge where Camilla’s supine body bobbed against icy shards and wet pebbles.
Without flinching, I observed the bluish tint of her lips, the unseeing green of her irises fixed on the sky, the purple bruises circling her throat like those plastic chokers Ads and I used to wear as tweens.
I guess it was for the better for me and the worse for you.
Slowly, I lifted my eyes off her and twisted around to look at Liam. I scanned his chest, his stomach, looking for the telltale shape of a bandage. “If she didn’t shoot you, who did she shoot?”
“Grant,” Niall said.
My head jerked back. “She shot her own brother?”
“I know.” Niall sighed. “I was really looking forward to ending his life myself.”
“Niall!” I gasped.
“What?”
“You’re not a killer.”
“Don’t want to share the spotlight?” He hefted a dramatic sigh. “Fine.”
I froze as his words cemented themselves onto my skull.
I glanced back at Camilla, willing myself to feel regret.
I didn’t.
Not only was I a killer, but I was a coldblooded one.
Shame heated my cheeks and curdled my heart.
Extricating my arms from my brothers’ grip, I limped away from Camilla and the girl she’d turned me into.
Chapter 63
“How do you want your eggs, honey?” Dad asked as I took a seat at the island, in front of an already consequential amount of food.
“Fertilized?” Niall coughed under his breath.
I rolled eyes that a full twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep hadn’t managed to deflate.
“How old are you again?” Adalyn flicked the back of his neck as she walked past him, carrying a mug of coffee which she set in front of me. “Black.”
“Just like her murderess heart,” Nash quipped from where he was dutifully cutting up strawberries and tossing them into a giant bowl.
“Nash!” Adalyn’s eyes widened.
“What? Too soon?”
She placed a protective hand on my shoulder. “It will always be too soon.”
As everyone grew silent, unsure how to proceed around me, I tipped the mug to my lips and drank a scorching sip of coffee. It didn’t taste like the coffee I’d had yesterday, yet it propelled me to Seoul Sister, to the cabin in the woods, to the lake.
