My jaw locks. The thought hits me all at once. John had Brooke in this house her entire life. He watched her grow up. He trained her. Men like him don’t keep that kind of access without crossing lines, and the idea of him putting his hands on her makes something vicious tear loose in my chest.
I step closer. “Did he ever touch her?”
She understands the implication immediately.
“No,” Mary says quickly. “No. Never. Never anything like that. He thought of her as his prodigy. John watched her grow up. That is the closest he has ever come to raising a child. He didn’t want one, but he always believed Brooke would be useful.”
My jaw tightens. “So you were complicit. You knew all of this all along, and you let John kill your sister.”
Mary glares at me. “Didn’t you kill Luke?”
I shift the gun slow enough for her to hear every millimeter of metal moving.
“Say his name again.”
She freezes.
I lean in closer. “Do you know she’spregnant?”
Mary nods immediately, terrified. “She told me right before they took her. I tried—I begged them not to hurt her—”
“You didn’t do enough.”
“I swear—”
“If Brooke is dead,” I whisper, “I’m coming back to kill you.”
She collapses against the wall, shaking.
“But if she’s alive,” I continue, “I’m saving you for her.”
Her eyes widen. She understands what that means.
I let go of her shirt and step back. “Now, where the fuck is my dog and cat?”
She points toward the hallway with a trembling hand. “In the—guest room.”
Beau goes immediately to open the guest room door.
Krueger sprints out, nails scraping the floor.
Luna comes out last, slow, terrified, her tail tucked tight against her body. When she sees me, she darts forward and presses her trembling body against my shin, letting out a small, broken chirp before climbing into my arms.
I hold her against my chest, even as my stitches burn and blood soaks through my shirt. Her purring is frantic and uneven, a sound cats make when they are terrified but clinging to the only safety they know.
“You’re pathetic,” I tell Mary. “You deserve everything coming to you. And if Brooke decides not to kill you, you’ll never see her again. You’ll never meet our kid. And you’ll die with the monster you chose.”
Mary’s legs give out. She slides down the wall, sobbing into her hands.
I turn away from her and walk toward John’s office. Because I’m not here for her. I’m here for answers.
“Office,” I tell Beau.
The moment we step into John’s office, the smell hits me.
Cigar smoke, old paper, floor polish.
Beau starts pulling open drawers immediately. “Half of this shit is empty.”
