"Lucy!" The word tears out of my throat before I can stop it. I'm moving before I realize it, but Gabriel's iron grip on my arm stops me cold.
"Stay back," he orders, and there's no give in his voice.
I watch helplessly as other officers swarm Cutter, disarming him before he can fire again. He doesn't resist much, just stands there looking lost and confused as they cuff him, like he's not sure how he ended up in this situation.
Lucy pushes herself up on her hands and knees, breathing hard. Richard scrambles away from her, clutching his bleeding head.
"Why?" he gasps, staring at her with genuine confusion.
Lucy gets to her feet slowly, swaying slightly but staying upright through sheer determination.
When she speaks, her voice carries across the scene with crystal clarity, cutting through the chaos like a blade.
"Because I'd rather see you in a cell for the rest of your miserable life, feeling what it's like to have no freedom, no choices, no control over your own existence. I want youto live with what you've done, thinking about it every day until it eats you alive from the inside. Death would be too easy for you."
The words hit Richard like physical blows. His face goes white as the full impact of what she's saying sinks in.
That's when Lucy notices us.
She's standing in the middle of the chaos, blood on her face and dirt on her clothes, looking like a warrior who's just survived the battle of her life.
Her eyes find mine across the distance, and for a moment, the world goes quiet.
I start toward her, my feet moving without conscious thought. Colt and Gabriel are beside me, all of us drawn to her like iron filings to a magnet.
But she holds up a hand, stopping us dead in our tracks.
"Don't," she says quietly, and there's something final in her voice that cuts deeper than any blade. "Just... don't."
"Lucy, we know the truth now," Gabriel says, his voice carrying the desperate edge of a man trying to undo the irreversible. "Matty called. He told us everything."
She laughs, but it's a broken sound that makes my chest ache like I've been kicked by a bull. "The truth? Which truth, Gabriel? The one where I'm a liar who manipulated you for months? Or the one where I'm a victim who needs to be saved by three strong men?"
The words hit like buckshot, each one finding its mark with surgical precision.
"Neither," I say, finding my voice at last. "The truth where you're the woman we love."
"Love?" She shakes her head, and I can see tears mixing with the blood on her cheeks, creating muddy tracks down her face. "Which woman do you love, Beau? Lucy Reid, the easy going van-life girl? Or Lucinda Kensington-Reid, the mentally unstable heiress?"
The question cuts straight to the bone because I can hear the real question underneath it. Which version of her is acceptable? Which one deserves love without conditions?
"We love you," Colt says desperately, stepping forward with his hands out like he's approaching a spooked horse. "It doesn't matter what name you use or how much money you have."
"It matters to me." Her voice breaks on the words, and the sound nearly destroys what's left of my composure. "You looked at his evidence and believed it."
The accusation hits like a sledgehammer because it's absolutely true.
"We were wrong," I say, the words feeling inadequate even as they leave my mouth. "We were hurt and confused and we made the worst possible choice. But we want to make it right."
"How?" The word comes out as a whisper, but it carries more weight than a shout. "How do you make this right, Beau?"
I don't have an answer for that. None of us do.
But I'm damn sure going to try.
40
Lucinda
