“There has to be a line,” I explain. “Somewhere. And unfortunately, you’re on the wrong side of it.”
She studies me for a heartbeat, head tilted. “You sound like him.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Ghost,” she answers. “Sterling. Whatever you’re calling him these days. Always so very sure there’s a right way to bleed. He’s been like that since a child.”
Anger flares, bright enough to sting my eyes. “You don’t get to say his name.”
“Of course not,” she says, laughing like this is some joke. “You’ve claimed him. Just like you’re trying to claim this.” Her gaze dips again.
“He’smine.” A growl escapes me, territorial and protective, oozing from every word. “They’re bothmine.” She opens her mouth again,maybe to dig the knife in one more time. I don’t give her the chance. I rush toward her and slit her throat just like I did Evelyn’s. I sit there watching the light fade from her eyes until there is nothing left but the body of the vile woman.Rest in Hell.
My hands are steady. My breathing is not. I stand there long enough to feel my heart slow, then turn and walk out, closing the door behind me with a final, echoing click. Sterling is waiting exactly where I left him. His eyes take me in. “Thorn?” he asks quietly.
“It’s done,” I whisper.
“Both?”
“Both,” I confirm.
Something in his shoulders loosens. “You okay?”
I think about lying. About saying yes, about pretending this didn’t scrape something raw inside me. “No,” I answer honestly. “But I will be. We will be.” I grab his hand and place it on the child growing inside of me. We may have a traumatizing past, but it will not bleed onto this little Briar we have.
Sterling nods once. “Then let’s go tell the others the monsters under the floorboards are gone. Cam will be ever so grateful we took care of the monsters under his bed,” he chuckles as I shove his shoulder. “And start figuring out how we hunt the ones still out there.” We climb back toward the light together, leaving the dead weight of their choices in the dark where it belongs.
Chapter Forty-Two
We turn off the lights on the lower levels before we talk about the future. It feels right—bury the ghosts, then figure out how to live around the graveyard. Upstairs, the warehouse is strange, suspended quietly like the building is holding its breath, waiting to see which way we fall. Lila paces with a mug in her hand while Cam colonizes the main table with maps, printouts, and a tablet full of sins. He’s in full analyst mode—hair a disaster, glasses smudged, fingers moving fast.
“The lab coat and the ice queen?” Lila looks up as we come in. “Done?”
“Done,” Kiera echoes.
Cam exhales deeply, some hard knot in his chest finally letting go. “Good,” he whispers low enough that only I can hear. “We can’t carry them and everything else.” He pauses, looking toward Kiera. “How is she?” he asks.
Kiera answers for herself. “Functional,” she snips. “You guys can stop worrying. I’m not fragile.”
Lila winces. “Wow,” she says. “We’re leaning into the bitchy coping mechanism?”
“You’re one to talk.” The exchange has a bite, but there’s no real heat. Just the tremor that comes after you’ve finally done the thing you’ve been circling for years. For her to kill both her parents without a second thought, it has to be taking its toll. I take the spot beside her, close enough that our shoulders almost touch—a pillar for her to lean on.
“All right.” Cam claps, breaking the awkward silence. “We have three major variables: Kiera’s pregnancy, Cicada’s inevitable response to the Nesting House, and the list of suspected locations we still haven’t touched. We need a new game plan that doesn’t end with any of us dead in a ditch or in a black site.”
Kiera glances sideways at me. Her jaw is set, but there’s something else in her eyes now. Less fatalism. More grim or stubborn intent.She’s keeping it. She said the words out loud this morning, and I felt every piece of my world tilt around them. I clear my throat. “We’re still going after Cicada. That doesn’t change.”
“Agreed,” Cam speaks up first.
“Variable one,” I go on, because if I stop, I might start pacing. “Ki is no longer front-line deployable in the same way. She won’t be walking into active fire, close-quarters fights, or anywhere her body gets used as a crash test dummy. That’s non-negotiable.”
Kiera’s head snaps toward me. “You know I can still…”
“I know exactly what you can still do,” I cut in. “That’s the problem. You’ll keep pushing until something breaks. I’m not letting that happen. Not now.”
Her eyes flare. “It’s my body,” she says. “My choice.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “And you chose to keep this child. That’s the only reason I’m making this argument. You want to end it, we can go back to throwing you at doors until they fall. But you didn’t, so you no longer get the option to throw yourself in harm's way.” That lands its intended mark. She looks away, jaw working.
