Not alone.
He forced himself onto an elbow.
The pool house door opened.
Warm light spilled across the yard.
Margot disappeared inside.
Scout started to crawl.
Frost bit through his clothes. Every pull with his good arm sent fire through his shoulder.
He kept going.
Margot — The Believer
Margot Holt sat in the main house, watching the monitor like it was church.
She’d watched the skylight shatter. Tessa dive. The desk flip.
And when the violet hit the floor and broke—something inside Margot clenched.
Not because she cared about Tessa.
Because the room was supposed to be perfect.
A clean place to create.
Her sanctuary.
Ruined.
She couldn’t help herself.
She crossed the yard quickly, keys in hand, and slipped into the pool house.
Inside, the room looked destroyed—glass everywhere, the deskoverturned, the Royal on its side, soil and petals smeared across the rug like blood.
Margot’s face tightened with something that looked—at first glance—like grief.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
Tessa’s shoulders locked.
She lifted her head slowly.
Margot crossed the room and tugged the blanket tighter around Tessa’s shoulders with practiced hands.
“You’re freezing,” Margot murmured. “You always get cold after the pills.”
Her tone was gentle. Familiar. Routine.
Then her fingers lifted to Tessa’s hair.
She began separating strands with quick, familiar precision.
Tessa froze.
