Then…
I won’t be like him.
Preston sucked in deep breaths. Saw…Sloane in his mind. Cuffed. Reaching out to him?—
“There comes a point in each person’s life when we have to decide…are we going to be good or evil?”
He’d known that Lily had followed him. He’d heard the soft tread of her steps.
“You don’t want to be here right now,” Preston warned her.
“Sure, I do,” Lily Gallo returned. Correction. Lily Gallo-Bennett. “Wait, no, honestly, I’d rather be inside, getting my best friend out of handcuffs and convincing her to ditch this town and leave with me.”
He finally glanced over at her.
“But you and I have a few things in common,” Lily told him. “So I figured the least I could do is spare you a two-minute pep talk.”
“This is your pep talk? Telling me I have to decide if I’m good or evil?”
“Yes. Because it’s your choice, you know? All the research that Sloane and I are doing—we get that, in the end, it can come down to choices. Making the right ones.” She tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. The wind caught her hair and blew it lightly across her cheek. Her gaze never wavered from his. “She told you about your dad.”
He grunted.
“But you already knew, so I don’t get why you’re acting like the sky just fell on you.”
Total shock flashed through him.
Lily inclined her head. “See, told you. We have a few things in common. And one of those things? I can recognize a pretender when I see one.”
The conference room door flew open. Hope blasted through Sloane. Preston had come back. He’d?—
“Ready to get the hell out of here?” Atlas asked her.
Oh. It was Atlas.
“Holy shit, look less disappointed, would you? Freedom is ringing.” He motioned toward Sheriff Tooni. “Get the cuffs off her. Seriously. That is some bullshit.” Real anger vibrated in his voice. “My lawyer will have a field day with this crap. Field freaking day. Unauthorized searches. Made-up charges. Unlawful imprisonment.” With every bitten off word, he approached Sloane. “Cuffs off her, now.”
Right, that would be typical Atlas. Expecting his orders to be carried out?—
Debra Tooni took the cuffs off.
“Excellent,” Atlas praised the sheriff. “I appreciate your cooperation. Now, come on, Sloane. Let’s get out of this town. Time to put it in our rearview mirror.”
She stood up, her now-free wrist automatically flexing.
“She’s not leaving town,” Debra rushed to say. “I need her to stay here while she’s under suspicion?—”
“Suspicion?” Atlas cut through Debra’s words. “Suspicion of what? Being a victim?” His eyes narrowed as he focused on Sloane. “I have some very important words that I want you to practice saying with me. Are you ready, Sloane?”
Ah, no? She was not.
“I am a victim,” Atlas informed her. “Say it with me now, ‘I am a victim.’”
“I’m a victim?”
“No, a statement. Period at the end. I am a victim.”
“I am a victim.” Those words made her insides tighten. She was a damn victim. She’d been one for years, and she hated that fact.
