Page 142 of Shattered In Darkness

I smirk. “You either, Lola Bloom.”

On the TV, my family name goes up in smoke. They turn the volume up. They dissect my father’s life, his failings, his empire reduced to paperwork and mugshots. Lola winces for me. That man was never my family, not really.

I trace circles on her skin. “Let them keep talking. None of it touches us now.”

She believes it. I can feel it, the tension melting, the fear draining away, replaced by something like hope. Cautious, stuttering, fucked-up hope. But hope, all the same.

The silence deepens, but it’s not empty. It’s full of everything we survived, all the ways we didn’t shatter.

She leans her head on my shoulder. I let my cheek rest against her hair. We fit, even with all the damage.

I watch the sky lighten outside the window. The world is different now. Burned-out, but still spinning.

Nothing will ever be normal. But this? This is enough.

For now.

Lola is still asleep in my arms when the news flickers to a commercial. I reach for my phone. and the motion wakes her, just enough. Eyes wide, wild, afraid of what comes next.

She whispers, “What are you doing?”

I type fast. “Telling Sophie the truth.”

Lola sits up, panic simmering. “No—she’s not ready. Not for all of this. She’ll break.”

I stare at her. “She deserves the truth. She deserves to decide what to do with it.”

Come next door. You need to know what happened.

The house goes silent. Only the hush of the TV, muted now, showing slow motion footage of my father’s collapse. Lola pulls a blanket tight over her shoulders, watching the window.

A knock comes followed by silence. Then, the front door opens. Footsteps echo down the hall. Sophie’s hair is messy, eyes swollen, and her phone clutched in her hand, news alerts going off in a rhythm. She doesn’t knock. She just stands in the doorway, shaking.

“What did you do?” Voice hollowed out, stripped to the bone.

I don’t answer right away. I let the silence hang, see if she’ll run. She doesn’t. Lola tenses. I can feel it down to my bones. She wants to shield Sophie, to block everything out. But she doesn’t move.

I stand up, blocking the TV, so Sophie has to look at me. “We ended it,” I say. “For good. All of it, Soph.”

Her lips barely move. “You… what does that mean? Why are they saying Dad’s a criminal? That he— That he’s been doing these things?”

I don’t blink. “He was always this, Soph. Just kept it out of sight. I found the evidence. I gave it to the people who would use it.”

Her face shatters, piece by piece. “You destroyed him. You destroyed everything.”

I shake my head. “He did that to himself. I just made sure no one else would get hurt.” My voice drops, brutal honesty leaking out. “I don’t want to be his fucking kill dog anymore. He made me do terrible things, Sophie. Things you couldn’t even imagine.”

She staggers, clutches at the wall, like she’s going to be sick. “No, no, no…” She sinks to the floor, knees drawn up, sobs quaking through her. “He was my dad. He was⁠—”

I step closer. Old instinct to help, to patch and fix. But the words turn to stone in my throat. What comfort can I offer? None. I am just the messenger, the executioner. I hover, helpless.

Lola kneels beside Sophie, gentle hands, soft words. “Can I get you water? Or a blanket?” Her kindness makes me ache.

Sophie just stares down, hands over her face. Like she could rip the past away if she claws hard enough.

“I’m sorry, Soph,” I say. “This was the only way.”

She cries so hard. Every sob twists something in my chest. She didn’t know, not really. I kept her in the dark, kept the rot hidden so she could have some semblance of normal.