Her eyes locked on Tessa’s.
“I did.”
A beat.
“I was the only one who stayed.”
The words hung there—intimate. Possessive.
Then her mouth curved.
“Sara was in love with Deputy Scout,” Margot murmured. “It was all over her pages. And then you were, too. It was delicious—the two of you circling the same man and pretending you weren’t bleeding over him. Of course we pressed there. You only ever told the truth when it hurt.”
Everything snapped into place.
He wrote the lines. Margot made sure they bled.
Margot’s eyes flashed.
Then she moved.
Not away.
Toward Tessa.
Her hand shot out and clamped around Tessa’s forearm with startling strength.
“You don’t get to end it,” Margot hissed, all softness gone. “You have no idea what you’re throwing away?—”
She yanked Tessa closer, fingers biting into muscle.
Tessa’s heart kicked hard—but she held her ground.
And then?—
“Let her go.”
The words cut through the room like a gunshot.
Margot went still.
Tessa’s head snapped toward the doorway.
Scout Wilson stood there.
He’d crawled. Dragged himself along the hedge line until the side door came into reach. He didn’t remember standing up.
Now he stood there on sheer will alone.
One arm hung useless at his side. His sleeve had been ripped open and knotted tight across his shoulder—fabric twisted into a crude tourniquet. Blood had dried black down his forearm.
He pinned himself to the doorframe and lifted the gun.
One arm useless.
The other rock-steady because it had to be.
“Hands up,” Scout said, voice flat and lethal. “Now.”
