One moment, she was beside me.
Next, her body had slammed into mine, knocking the air from my lungs as she shielded me with her own.
The gunshot exploded through the trees.
I felt the impact a split second later—sharp, burning, violent.
Then her weight collapsed against me, and we fell together.
My head struck the ground hard, the world spinning violently around me as pain shot through my shoulder and darkness began closing in.
In those final seconds before everything went black, one realization cut through the chaos with terrifying clarity.
She had taken the bullet meant for me.
Even as my vision blurred and my body went numb, something else held on just as fiercely beneath the fear.
Hope.
Because the last thing I remembered before losing consciousness was the sound of her breathing against me.
She was still alive.
And that was all that mattered.
The memory faded, leaving me standing in my parents’ foyer with the letter still clutched in my hand.
I had truly believed we had survived the worst of it—that we would put the past behind us and finally start fresh together, that everything we had fought through would lead us to the life we both deserved.
The weight of the letter dragged another memory to the surface—the day Nyah had revealed her past to my family.
My mother had appeared at my side and taken hold of my elbow, guiding me toward the library. “What is it, Mother?”
“Doesn’t it strike you as a little… off?” she asked, folding her arms.
“What is suspicious?”
“That instead of Lucas being taken,” she said carefully, “Simon’s daughters were.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“She’s involved, son,” she replied gently. “I’m telling you—she’s involved.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” she said softly. “Think about it. How much of Nyah’s story can you actually prove? Does she have anyone who can verify it? Any witnesses? Any evidence?” Her eyes never left my face. “She kept herself vague for a very long time. Long enough to create a story you couldn’t challenge. Her son was protected. Isn’t it at least possible that it wasn’t an accident?”
“She’s not like that,” I snapped. “You don’t know her as I do.”
“Just reflect on it, son,” she said, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Deep down, you know I might be right.” Her voice softened. “I love you. I want to protect you. I would never do anything to hurt you.” She smiled.
The memory slammed back into the present, and suddenly my mother’s words didn’t feel impossible anymore.
I re-read the letter, looking for any clues that it wasn’t true.
Caleb,
I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you and your family. It was never meant to go this far.
