She wasn’t stealing. She certainly wasn’t lying.
She was working. On her own and in secret.
And we got her beaten down like a goddamn traitor.
Horror starts to wash over me. And I can’t stop looking at her, unblinkingly.
Not the bruises. Not the split lip. Not Charlie, the brat.
But Charlotte, the girl we failed.
FOUR
Charlotte
Everything hurts. Every inhale drags like sandpaper through my chest. My ribs ache when I shift. But their silence hurts worse.
They’re all staring at me like I’m some kind of ghost that just spoke. Like they’re still trying to absorb the weight of my words and decide whether they believe me or not.
I almost laugh. Their faces—comically shocked, mouths slightly open, eyes darting between each other like no one knows what to say.
If I had the energy, I’d tell them how ridiculous they look. But even breathing feels like punishment right now, and terror hasn’t left my body yet.
That’s what they wanted, isn’t it?
So I lie here, half propped against the pillow, watching their panic unfold.
Ruin’s the first to move. His voice cracks. “Ryder, return her money. Now.”
Ryder blinks up from his laptop. “Right.”
Wait. My brain stutters. Return it?
“You… you took my money?” My voice is a rasp, barely there, but Ruin hears it. His head snaps toward me.
“You took my money?” I say again, louder this time. “Give it back. Give my money back!”
Ryder’s already typing, voice soft. “Hey, hey—don’t worry, love. I’m getting it back to you. Right now.”
He looks guilty. They all do.
Wolf’s gone quiet, like statue-quiet. His jaw ticks, eyes unfocused. He doesn’t even look at me.
Ruin’s pacing, fingers pressed to his temples like he can physically stop the guilt from bleeding through. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “I didn’t—fuck, we didn’t think—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I croak.
He flinches. Actually flinches.
They linger for another minute, exchanging looks that don’t say anything worth a damn.
Wolf clears his throat and nods to the door. “We’ll… uh. We’ll give you some space.”
Of course, they will. They probably need to find a way to undo this.
And just like that, they file out. Ryder trailing last, laptop under his arm, eyes glued to the floor. The door shuts. And I’m left alone with Auntie Deb.
She’s sitting on the edge of the chair, hands clasped together so tight her knuckles are white. Her eyes are shining, her lips trembling. She looks like she’s choking on guilt I don’t understand.
