And for the first time since the accident, I feel as if everything will be okay.
An hour or two later,another woman enters. She’s an FBI agent, but different from the others. She’s younger, with sharp, intelligent eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor. She closes the door softly behind her.
Frodo’s head snaps up, and the two of them lock eyes. But if she cares about the dog in my room, she doesn’t show it, her expression remaining carefully impassive.
“Ellie,” she says, her voice professional. “I’m Agent Harding. I wanted to give you a personal update.” Tension steals through my shoulders, and I sit up slightly. Her next words shoot through my heart like a loosed arrow. “We still can’t find Raymond.”
The small bubble of hope in my chest pops. “What?” I whisper. “But he gave you the flash drive…”
“I know,” she says, her expression softening with sympathy. “We have proof he accessed the drive. But after that…he vanished. We’ve checked everywhere. Given the chaos, the number of bodies…he’s probably dead, Ellie. I’m sorry.”
A cold dread settles in my stomach, heavy and suffocating.
Dead.
The word echoes in my head. I want to scream, to deny it, but I know Aria’s world. I know how easily people disappear.
There’s a finality to it that steals my breath.
I can’t do anything. I can’t search, can’t fight. I’m trapped in this bed, helpless. I just nod, a single tear escaping and tracing a path down my bruised cheek.
Beckett, who’s closest, leans forward to wipe it away.
“What about Fischer?” I ask, needing to know about the other ghost in my life. “Has he been…arrested?” Just saying that word scorches my throat like acid-tipped talons.
Agent Harding’s gaze is steady. “Yes. He participated in some of Aria’s crimes, even if he was trying to mitigate them. There’s an abundance of evidence connecting him to these crimes. But he is cooperating fully. He’s giving us everything he knows. That will earn him a lighter sentence.”
I absorb that. It’s fair. It’s just.
It’s also heartbreaking.
“You were incredibly brave,” she continues, her tone shifting. “What you did…facing Aria like that. It took courage.”
I shake my head, the admission tearing itself from my throat before I can stop it. “No. I wasn’t brave. I did awful things.” My voice drops to a whisper. “When I was under POP’s control, I…I hurt people. I’m not a hero.”
I leave out the worst of it. The men and women I helped my boys kill. The blood on my own hands. But the confession hangs in the air, raw and ugly.
Agent Harding doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t look disgusted. She just looks…understanding.
“I hear you,” she says softly. “And I need you to understand something. This will be a long process. There will be depositions, hearings, maybe a trial. The media will dig into every part of your life. It won’t always be pretty.”
A bitter, broken laugh escapes my lips. “Nothing in this life is.”
And it’s the truest thing I’ve ever said.
43
ELLIE
SIX MONTHS LATER
Six months. It’s been six months since Aria’s blood stained the marble of her throne room, and the scar on my stomach is a pale, silver whisper, a reminder that I survived.
I sit at the vanity in the master bedroom of our new house, a place with too many windows and not enough shadows, carefully drawing a sharp wing of eyeliner. My hand is steady. It’s a skill I’ve had to relearn, this simple, domestic act. For months, it trembled uncontrollably.
The door clicks open, and Landon leans against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, a lazy grin on his face. He’s wearing dark jeans and a simple black T-shirt that does nothing to hide the lean muscle beneath.
“Trying to achieve sainthood with that halo of light around your head, or are you just getting ready to smite some sinnersin a courtroom?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through the floorboards.
