Nightfall (Devil’s Night Book 4)
Nightfall: Chapter 32

Seven Years Ago

-A few months after the attack on Martin Scott-

“Hey,” Thea called out, entering our room.

I looked up from my desk, seeing her whip off her Mia Wallace wig and toss it on our futon couch with the adrenaline needle she’d made me plaster to her chest earlier tonight. Her boyfriend was supposed to complete her Pulp Fiction theme by going as Vincent Vega, but they got in a fight an hour before, and I let her go to the party alone.

Like a jerk.

“Hey,” I said, smiling at her makeup smeared everywhere. “Have fun?”

Judging from the lipstick across her cheek, Vincent must’ve found her and they made up.

But she just shrugged. “Eh, I don’t remember.”

I snorted as she skipped over to me, the beer on her breath hitting my nose. “But I thought of you.” She held out a small jack-o’-lantern, already carved with a toothless happy face. “I stole it from in front of a frat house on my way home.”

I laughed, taking it. “Thank you.”

Man, I lucked out with roommates.

I shook my head, setting the pumpkin on my desk. After I’d graduated last spring, I convinced Martin to use my college fund to put Grand-Mère in the nicest home money could buy because I didn’t need it. With a scholarship thanks to my stunning designs around Thunder Bay, showcasing how you can make a ruin still functional while keeping its character, I didn’t need my college fund. What I didn’t cover with the scholarship, I got in loans. Screw it.

I had wanted to handle her myself, but he had power of attorney over her care, and that wasn’t changing. He agreed when I outlined the perks of having the house to himself finally, plus the respect and admiration of people thinking he paid for her first-class care out of his modest, civil servant salary.

I called her every day, and I hadn’t spoken to him since I’d left after graduation. I interned in San Francisco for the summer, snuck into town in late July to visit her, and then promptly left again to move into my dorm.

“You should’ve come,” Thea said. “For once, just say…‘yes’.” And then she moaned loudly. “Yes, yes, yes!”

There were no shortages of parties and fun at Berkeley, but in the two months since school had started, adjusting to a new set of people and new surroundings proved harder than I thought it would be.

Which was stupid, because I didn’t think anyone would agree I’d particularly adjusted to Thunder Bay, either, and I grew up there.

I was kind of homesick.

“I ruin the fun,” I told her with a half-smile. “Trust me.”

I took out a pack of matches from my drawer and lit the tealight still inside the pumpkin, the warm glow peeking out of his eyes and mouth. We weren’t supposed to be lighting anything in the dorms, but they’d never know.

I turned off my desk lamp, the darkness making the flickering candle a little spooky.

Thea undressed and then pulled on her robe, grabbing a towel and her shower caddy.

“Happy Halloween,” she sing-songed, leaving to take a shower.

But I spoke up. “Devil’s Night.”

“Huh?”

I turned my head, seeing her grip the door handle.

“Tomorrow is Halloween,” I told her. “Tonight is Devil’s Night.”

“Like in The Crow?”

I broke out in a laugh. Devil’s Night, Mischief Night, Cabbage Night…I forgot most of the world outside Thunder Bay—and maybe Detroit—had never heard of it before, other than in the movies.

She leaned over, looking at the clock on her own desk. “Well, it’s after one,” she said. “It’s Halloween now.”

She stuck out her tongue and then left, heading down the hall to take a shower.

Touché.

I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes, closing my textbook for the night. Wrapping a rubber band around my flashcards, I tossed them on the desk and picked up the lid of the jack-o’-lantern and put it back on top.

I stared at its face. “Emory Scott loves Will Grayson,” I murmured.

My throat ached with tears.

I’d never told him I loved him. Emptiness had spread through my insides over the months, and even though it made me feel stronger every time I looked away from him his last year at school—proud that I was surviving him and Martin and Thunder Bay—I never felt like I was winning.

The longing just grew, and if he walked in here right now, I’d let him pick me up, and I’d wrap my legs around him and not stop touching him the rest of the night.

My arms hummed with the need to hold him.

I looked up at the Godzilla on top of my supply drawers on my desktop. I’d done the right thing. Right? I hadn’t wanted him to know what was happening in that house.

I had to cut him loose.

But I did regret not trusting him. Whatever I had to lose, I’d lost already. I should’ve told him I loved him, and it wasn’t his fault, and maybe someday…

Maybe someday.

I dried my eyes and picked up my phone, tempted to call or text—maybe to apologize, I didn’t know—but if nothing else, maybe he was in Thunder Bay tonight. Maybe he’d come back from Princeton to celebrate, even though he hadn’t come back home last year while I was a senior.

Or maybe he wasn’t home and everyone else carried on the tradition after the Horsemen had left for college.

I wanted to see home.

Logging on to Instagram, I searched #devilsnight and clicked on Recent for anything posted tonight and…

Images and videos assaulted me all at once, my heart starting to hammer as their faces popped up immediately, swarming the page.

I smiled, warm everywhere as I caught a glimpse of his smile in one square and his beautiful face, a little thinner than I remembered, with eyes piercing the camera in another.

I caught sight of Michael’s red mask, Kai’s silver one, Damon kissing some blonde in the shower, but then I spotted a video running in one of the squares, and my brother in the background.

I grabbed my glasses, putting them back on and holding the phone closer to my face to study the video.

What was this?

Guys in black hoodies and masks beat my brother as he hung by his hands in a dark room. The light from the camera phone shone on him, blood streaming down his face and his dark hair matted and sweaty.

My head spun. No, no, no…

I glanced at the door, worried Thea would be back, and grabbed my earbuds, plugging them into my phone and clicking the post, turning up the volume.

“Ah!” Martin growled, his face etched with pain.

One of the men in black approached him, and I perked my ears to try to hear, but all I heard was mumbling between them.

After a minute, I heard Martin’s dark laugh, and I winced, remembering that sound.

This was from when my brother was attacked this past summer. He’d tried to tell me, but I’d refused to answer the phone, only hearing about it from my grandmother. He’d been hospitalized for over a week, but I hadn’t given a shit. He’d been lucky I wasn’t praying for his death.

One of the men in black lost control, and I sucked in a breath as I watched him pummel Martin, bringing down his fist again and again, my brother’s silver badge glinting in the light.

Jesus.

I didn’t have to see his face to know who it was.

Another one came from behind the camera and started in, the first guy turning around, facing the camera, and…

My heart sank as I watched him lift his mask.

Will.

No.

He smirked and flipped off the camera, the bile rising up my throat as I scrolled the comments. So many. The video was everywhere.

It was everywhere. Everyone knew he’d done it.

“Oh, my God,” I mouthed.

Exiting out, I scrolled, seeing a video of Damon and Winter Ashby in a shower together, making out or something, and I clicked out of it and reported it to Instagram.

She was a minor. What the hell? Who’d posted this shit?

Had someone gotten a hold of their phone?

The first video was posted an hour ago from a ghost account, by the looks of it, and the only person I wasn’t seeing was Michael in any of them.

I pulled out my earbuds, dialing Martin and checking the time. After one a.m. here, so it would be after four a.m. in Thunder Bay.

He didn’t answer, so I called again, still getting no answer. I hesitated a moment and then tried Will.

Again, no answer.

God, he might not even be awake yet.

I sat there, my phone starting to buzz as the world back home started to wake with the news, and old classmates probably wanted to be the first to alert me about the video with Martin in it.

I inhaled and exhaled. It would be fine.

Right? They’d get out of this.

But even saying it, I knew it wasn’t true. Whoever loaded the videos wanted a trial by public opinion. Even if they escaped without a charge, this could get them kicked out of their schools.

It would undoubtedly embarrass their families on a massive scale.

Michael.

Why wasn’t Michael in any of them?

Whoever posted the videos had the phone. Michael would be on there. He was pretty much the leader.

And slowly, realization started to crystallize. Either it was Michael who’d posted them, or someone who didn’t want him embarrassed.

Or his family embarrassed.

I barely breathed, too many thoughts trying to come up my throat all at once as my brain started to finally catch up.

If anyone had half a mind to, there would be no way to ignore their behavior if someone shared those videos in the right place, you know? Can you imagine the embarrassment?

Oh, no.

I closed my eyes, exhaling a single breath. “Fuck.”

• • •

The cab crawled into Thunder Bay hours later, barely able to go more than twenty miles an hour with all the people cluttering the streets.

It looked like Mardi Gras, only no one was smiling.

Cameras, news crews…Will was going to be the center of this. His grandfather was a senator.

We entered the village where Sticks was packed with people and the sidewalks covered. Everyone wanted to be where the action was, and even kids were in the middle of it.

This was all my fault. God, what had I done?

After I’d failed to get a hold of anyone, I hadn’t even stopped to throw anything into a bag. I just dressed and dragged Thea out of the shower to take me to the airport since she had a car.

I couldn’t get a flight out until six a.m. my time, and it was now after six p.m. Thunder Bay time. I’d been able to see bits of pieces on my phone during my layover in Chicago.

They’d been arrested.

And Martin was probably in heaven.

I looked around, people I didn’t even recognize walking the streets. I swallowed a few times, trying to generate some saliva, but I just wanted him out. Back at school where he belonged.

Will.

But then I smelled it.

The fire.

I turned my head, looking around, and my gaze stopped, seeing the yellow tape on the hill.

My stomach dropped.

“Stop,” I breathed out.

The driver kept going.

“Stop!” I yelled, digging in my pocket for the cash.

The car halted, people talking and yelling outside the cab. I threw the money over the front seat and jumped out of the car, racing across the street, through the crowd.

I gazed up at it as I climbed the small incline—the wood charred, the roof collapsed, and debris everywhere.

My gazebo.

Why…who…?

I spun in a circle, looking around the village and noticing the wood bolted over what used to be a display case at the front of Fane, the jewelry store.

What the hell happened here last night?

Tears wet my eyes, but I quickly wiped them away and charged back down the hill and across the street, pushing through the crowd of people until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I’d built that. Nothing else seemed burned. Why that?

Like they had to erase me from the town.

I started running, taking a right down a quieter street and racing to the police station.

I swung the door open, pushed through all the people inside, and shoved my way through the partition, heading to the offices in the back.

“Emory!” someone barked.

But I ignored him, probably a cop to tell me I couldn’t just barge in.

“Emmy!” another person shouted.

I dug in my heels, slamming my hands into the double doors and charging over to my brother’s desk.

It was empty. I looked at Bryan Baker coming back to his desk with a coffee.

“Where is he?”

“In the john,” he said, taking a sip. “Have a seat.”

I set off, heading down the hall and charging into the men’s room.

Sweat covered my back, and I breathed hard, about to explode. This wasn’t his day. He wasn’t going to win.

Martin stood at a urinal, the rest of the room apparently empty.

I glared at him as he turned his head slowly, looking me up and down.

But he didn’t seem surprised to see me.

A scar stretched across his jaw as he spoke. “You disappoint me,” he said, turning back around and finishing up. “Of all the things to drag your ass back to Thunder Bay for, you came back for this.” He zipped up his pants and fastened his belt. “You didn’t come back for me when they put me in the hospital last summer.”

“Let them go,” I demanded.

He just chuckled, turning around and heading to the sink.

Turning on the faucet, he pumped some soap and lathered his hands.

I stepped up. “The video is a fake,” I stated, remaining calm. “Someone spliced in shots of their faces. Afterall, who would be dumb enough to show themselves committing such a heinous crime?”

He cocked an eyebrow, listening to the story I’d pieced together on the plane ride here.

I folded my arms over my chest. “I mean, why wear masks in the first place? The Graysons, Moris, and Torrances will pay for any expert you need to back up that story, and I’m sure they’ll be very grateful for your willingness to show their families support.”

He rinsed his hands, a smile playing on his lips. “And Griffin Ashby?” he pressed. “Am I supposed to ignore the justice he wants for his daughter?”

“She’s sixteen,” I growled in a low voice. “Not twelve. That law is laughable. Damon didn’t force her.”

No one thought he did. That video was evident.

Sure, he was kinda sleazy sometimes, and he was really good at coercion. Maybe he took advantage. She was blind, so…

My brother certainly wasn’t anyone to ensure justice for young girls.

“These charges won’t stand.” I inched closer. “All you’ll accomplish is making yourself the enemy.”

Grabbing some paper towels, he dried his hands and listened, too at ease. Why was he so calm?

Even if he were confident, Martin didn’t like me talking back to him. What was going on?

“The town is in shreds tonight,” he mused, looking at me with a gleam in his eyes. “Have you seen the streets? Their heroes are dead. It’s beautiful.” He laughed again, tossing the towels into the trash. “I got each one of those little shits in a cell. Except Crist. My patience has paid off. I just need to be a little more patient.”

What the hell did that mean? Did he know who posted the videos? Was he in on it?

“I’m going to tell everyone the truth,” I said. “I’m going to tell them everything you did to me. Will Grayson and Kai Mori will be heroes.”

He stepped closer, and I retreated a step, bracing myself, but then he said, “Come with me, Emory. I want to show you something.”

He walked past me, out the men’s room door, and I couldn’t fucking swallow. Fear curdled in my gut.

Too calm. He was never this calm.

I spun around and followed him out the door and farther down the hall.

He didn’t bat an eyelash at anything I’d said. Was he really going to charge a senator’s grandson for giving him the beating he deserved?

Opening a door on the left, he walked into the dim room, and I stopped, looking inside.

There was a glass partition and a table on the other side, handcuffs wrapped around a set of fists.

I drifted in, Will coming into view in the next room as he sat secured to a table all by himself, Kai and Damon nowhere to be seen.

I rushed up to the glass, pressing my fingertips to it.

He looked like shit.

But that bergamot and blue cypress wafted over me as if it were yesterday and he were right next to me.

My chest shook, taking in the bags under his eyes and the smile that was no longer there.

“I’m going to tell everyone you’re in love with him,” Martin said. “You’d say anything to protect him. I’m sure I could replace witnesses to corroborate a time or two you both were all over each other. The Cove. The school bus, was it?”

I stared at Will. I knew someone must’ve seen us that night racing through the parking lot.

“Do you have proof of your allegations?” Martin asked. “Witnesses? Photos?”

I curled my fingers into fists as Martin came to my side and looked at him, too.

“He burned down your gazebo, Em.” His tone was steady. Planned. “He’s been fucking everything with a skirt, snorting anything that’ll fit up his nose, and drinking everything that promises him sweet oblivion for the past two years,” he told me.

I clenched my teeth, locking my eyes on Will. Look up. Just let me see your eyes.

“And you still want to be his whore, you fucking sl—”

I growled. “Their lawyers will get them out of this,” I said, cutting him off. “This entire town is on their side, and whoever isn’t, is on their fathers’ side. No one wants to see them pay.”

He chuckled and then sighed. “It’s the ones closest to them they can’t trust the most.”

“What do you mean?”

But he just kept staring through the glass.

What does he know? “Who uploaded the videos?” I demanded.

He just smiled to himself.

Something was going on. More than just some fuck-up of someone getting a hold of that phone.

I looked at Will again. He sat back in his seat, staring at the table, something vacant in his gaze.

He burned down my gazebo.

He hated me. He didn’t want to have to look at me anywhere in this town.

My eyes watered, but before I hardly had a chance to notice, Martin shoved an envelope at me.

I took it. “What is this?”

I opened it up and pulled out the document.

“I can’t handle it anymore,” he said. “She’s yours now. You want to be free, you’re free. Take her.”

What? I skimmed the paperwork—my grandmother’s power of attorney transferred to me, and all I had to do was sign.

This was the one thing he still had to hold over me. The only thing that kept me in his life. Why would he turn her over?

“Then give me my money, too,” I told him.

I couldn’t care for her without it.

But he just smirked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I shook my head. Her nursing home was over seven grand a month. Even if I quit school and worked three jobs, I’d never be able to pay that and support myself.

And I didn’t have the money to take him to court. God knows where he could’ve hidden the rest he hadn’t used. It was gone.

Walking over to the table, he picked up another envelope, this one white. He ripped it open and pulled out whatever was inside, tossing it onto the table. Pictures spilled, fanning out, and I recognized the Polaroids instantly.

“Found your stash behind the coffee table books.”

He raised his eyes, meeting mine, and I stood there, squeezing the docs in my hand, because I couldn’t squeeze his neck.

He picked up a photo of me, the one with the bruises on my ribs from when he’d kicked me when I was fifteen. “You know, it does make me feel a little badly,” he said. “Looking at all of this together like this makes it look like you really went through hell.”

I’d thought about taking the pictures with my phone. Indestructible with the cloud and easy to send and receive digitally.

But he checked my phone, so I documented the abuse for a rainy day with an old Polaroid camera for a while. In the beginning when I thought I was smart and I could use it if I had to run for my life.

I’d stopped keeping evidence by the time I was seventeen. By then, I just held on with every thread I could muster.

“I was aggravated at first…when I found these.” He circled the table, picking up another and studying it. “But everything is an opportunity, isn’t it?”

I narrowed my eyes, the papers crinkling in my fist.

“I’m not going to take your advice,” he said, throwing the pic on the table and sliding his hands into his pockets. “They’ll be charged, but the DA will suggest a plea bargain.”

“Fuck you!” I gritted out. “They won’t plea shit. They’ll always win.”

“I almost think you want them to.”

Against him? Hell, yes. Whatever they did beyond that was none of my concern. I was leaving town tonight.

I wouldn’t be able to keep Grand-Mère at Asprey Lodge, but I’d work hard enough to afford something decent in San Francisco. All that mattered was that we were free.

Martin approached me, pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping a few buttons.

Then he handed it over, but I didn’t take it as I looked down and watched someone in a white mask with a red stripe—Will—rear his arm back and launch a bottle of liquor affixed with a burning rag at my gazebo.

The camera shook, but I heard the glass break and then flames burst everywhere, the zoom coming back out to take in the whole scene as my work was consumed in fire.

I turned my eyes away, looking at Will through the glass.

“It’s over,” Martin said. “The end of an era. They’ll plea. They won’t fight the charges. And you’re going to help me make sure they don’t.”

I shook my head. That would never happen.

“They’ll go away for a couple years,” he continued. “Just long enough for me and my associates to get a hold on this town, and then they can come home.”

“And what makes you think they won’t fight this?” I pressed, turning my gaze back on him. “You’re fucking insane.”

“Because if they do,’ he told me, inching in, “I’ll be forced to air a much darker scandal. They victimized women in high school. Assaulted them. Beat on them. Forced them into the catacombs to satisfy their deviant desires. They’re not boys. They’re devils.”

I laughed under my breath. He was insane. I’d be the first to admit they abused their power, but after helping one of them hide a body, I knew now that people were more complicated than that.

Everything used to be black and white until I realized that was just my perspective. I judged, because thinking was too hard.

They weren’t evil.

“Not all the girls will come forward, but we have one on record.” He walked to the table and spread out my selfies as if it were evidence. “And I’m confident more will follow.”

I watched as he pushed a paper across the table and laid a pen on top of it.

I picked it up, reading it.

“She’ll sign that paper, attesting to the validity of her claims,” he instructed, and I stopped breathing, starting to understand. “Even if there are no replaceings, the accusations will be enough to ruin their lives.”

I skimmed the statement, detailing how the guys “roughed me up” and forced me into the catacombs at St. Killian’s and…

And hey, here were pictures to prove their abuse.

Oh, my God. He was going to pass my pictures off as evidence against them.

“I wish you would die,” I said, tears filling my eyes.

“But I can make all this go away, Mr. Mori,” he went on. “And Mr. Torrance and Mr. Grayson. They fucked up. They’re young. They’ll serve some time, get out, and move on with their lives. It will be as if it never happened. The girl will be satisfied. I can keep her quiet. Perhaps with a small monetary donation to sweeten the deal?”

I forced down the lump in my throat. No. He could try it, but it would never happen. I’d never let him use me like this.

“I mean, this is actually a blessing,” he continued. “If she’s allowed to speak out, it could get so much worse for your sons.”

“Fuck you.”

“Sign it.”

“Fuck you!”

He grabbed the back of my hair and shoved my head down to the paper, sticking the pen in my face.

I growled, pushing myself away from the table.

“Sign it, and you’re free,” he bit out as I backed up to the glass, my eyes burning. “You don’t have to feel guilty. I mean, what’s on those videos is only a small fraction of what they’ve done, Emory. How they’ve taken advantage of the people here. Let their money and family names save their asses time and again.”

I whipped around, staring at Will still sitting at that table. Where was his lawyer?

I won’t…I won’t hurt you. I shook with sobs. I’ll never hurt you again.

“Just think of all the women he’s had,” Martin pointed out. “All the life he’s wasted as a burden on his family, never doing or living for anything important. For anything larger than himself. He’s taken, Em. All he does is take. He fucks and screws and forgets about you.”

I closed my eyes, about to cover my ears.

“They deserve some consequences. You know I’m right. They did commit crimes.”

No. If it happened, it happened, but I wouldn’t help Martin send them to jail.

“Those videos weren’t the only ones on that phone, you know?” he pressed. “If they were poor, they would’ve been in jail a dozen times by now.”

I stopped, my pulse ringing in my ears.

Phone…

“That’s what they used to document their pranks, right?” he asked. “A cell phone?”

I looked over at him, my cheeks wet with tears.

He shrugged, feigning sympathy. “If more videos were to surface….” He tsked, continuing, “Arson, assault, robbery, grand theft auto, breaking and entering, sexual deviances… I can only imagine the videos lurking out there somewhere that haven’t been posted yet.”

My stomach sank, and I rose, standing up straight as I gaped at him. The vomit churned, and I almost dry-heaved.

No.

Pulling something off the table, he handed me one more piece of paper, and I read the check for over thirty-seven-thousand dollars made out to me.

“The balance of what’s left,” he told me. “And you have the power of attorney transferred to you. All you have to do is sign. You can take her, and we never have to see each other again. You’ll be able to pay for top-notch care. And they won’t even know it’s you in the photos. Your full face isn’t in them anyway, and it won’t be on the unofficial statement I take to them.”

I stared at the check.

He was giving me what I wanted. I could move my grandmother to somewhere close to me, pay for her care for however long she had left, and my education wouldn’t be interrupted.

I set my palm on the glass, feeling warmth where everything else was cold.

He had a point, right? I’d heard that Will was messing up. Even his last year in high school, I heard he was getting high all the time. Would he clean up his act unless he were forced to?

I just wanted to go to school and take care of my grandma. I deserved for good things to happen, I’d fought long enough, and if I didn’t give in and agree to this, he might go to jail anyway and for longer. What if Martin knew who uploaded the videos? What if he were telling the truth, and he could get them to upload more?

I clutched the thin piece of paper, everything I wanted one signature away.

One signature I’d never make.

“I want you to die,” I whispered.

He stood there quietly. “You know what life is like inside of a one-star nursing home?” he finally asked.

I closed my eyes, seeing Damon Torrance with his hand wrapped around his mother’s throat, and I could damn-near feel it.

I wanted to know what that felt like.

“Sometimes the patients will have bruises they shouldn’t have or they’ll replace the elderly lying in their own waste for hours,” he went on. “She doesn’t know what the fuck is going on half the time anyway, so she won’t care.”

My blood boiled, every muscle inside of me tightening.

“You’re bluffing,” I breathed out. “Even you wouldn’t do that to her.”

I saw him turn toward me out of the corner of my eye. “She was transferred this morning,” he told me.

I whipped around to face him, and then I screamed, shoving him in the chest with both of my hands and then running in to knee him between the legs.

“Motherfucker!” I yelled.

He collapsed to the ground, and my body moved of its own accord. I couldn’t stop it. I swung my leg back to kick him, but he launched up and grabbed it as it came in and yanked me down to the floor.

Gripping the back of my head, he grabbed a fistful of the flesh at my waist and crushed it in his hand. I cried out and dove in, biting his face.

He howled, and I swung, slamming him across his jaw before he grabbed me by the collar and slapped me across the face.

I whipped around, my body crashing back to the floor, and I coughed, scrambling to my feet as the sharp sting spread across my face.

Swinging my leg back, I kicked him in the head, not hesitating a moment before I did it again. And again.

The taste of copper filled my mouth as blood sputtered from his mouth, and he tried to sit up on his knees, but he just fell over again.

You’ll never lay a hand on me again.

Unlike Damon, I knew how to really hide a dead body.

Pulling the chair out at the table, I sat down, silent tears blurring my eyes and blood coating my teeth as I reached over and grabbed the statement and then the pen.

Clicking the button at the top, I looked up, gazing at Will through the glass.

I could tell myself all sorts of things to make this okay.

If they weren’t who they were, they’d go to jail anyway.

I was saving them, actually. More videos coming to light would increase the charges.

They did commit crimes. And there were tons more no one knew about.

But the bottom line was…this was wrong.

I scribbled my name at the bottom of the statement that would convince their families to accept the charges in order to not risk more charges. I shoved it across the table, stood up, and grabbed the check and power of attorney, walking to the window as shame made me look away from my reflection in the glass.

“Some of us will always be casualties,” I whispered to him. “Rungs on a ladder that others climb.”

He looked up suddenly, and it looked like he was looking right at me. Like he could see me.

“Some people can’t stop what happens to them,” I said. “They’re just born in the wrong place, wrong time, with the wrong people.”

Will deserved his vengeance.

I’d just thrown him under the bus to buy my grandmother’s last days.

“I’ll expect you,” I whispered to him.

I felt my brother rise from the floor, sniffling and grunting.

I turned, not looking back as I walked for the door.

“Safe trip home,” Martin choked out. “You’ll never see me again.”

I threw open the door, not bothering to clean up the blood on my face as I left the room.

I’ll see you again. Will would be coming for both of us.