Despite my reservations, I can’t deny how much I admire her.
Fiona doesn’t flinch at the idea of facing the man responsible for her sister’s death.
The fact that I even questioned her loyalty feels maddening now, almost shameful, considering what she’s about to do for my family.
The least I can do is make sure she doesn’t face him alone.
Chapter Thirty-Five
FIONA
The prison looks justas gray and unwelcoming as I imagined it would, all concrete and steel, its walls crowned with coils of razor wire that glint dully beneath the overcast sky.
I peer out the window as we pass by a guard tower. “I don’t understand why Brennan is annoyed he didn’t get to come with us. This place is depressing.”
Cormac’s mouth twitches. “I think he was hoping to watch me sucker-punch your ex-boyfriend.”
I huff a laugh, but it sounds hollow.
The truth is, Brennan probably wouldn’t have been the only one to enjoy that, not that I would ever admit that to Cormac.
I shrug. “I think he just doesn’t like being sidelined.”
“Once we’re done here, we’ll call him and see if what Freddy says, lines up with what we have already.”
“If he talks.”
Cormac glances at me. “You think he won’t?”
I hesitate. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
“You seemed sure he would.”
“That was before…”
“Before what?”
I gesture vaguely toward the concrete walls rising ahead of us. The guard towers, the razor wire. The finality of it all.
“Before I saw this place in person. Freddy never liked owing anyone. He always needed leverage. Even when everything was falling apart, he still thought he had options.”
“And now?”
I swallow hard. “And now, he’s already at the bottom. There’s nothing left to threaten him with. No reputation to protect. No future he’s trying to bargain for. This is the one place where silence will cost him absolutely nothing, and that’s…dangerous.”
Cormac’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t disagree.
The closer we get, the heavier my chest feels as my mind starts to flood with memories I’ve desperately tried to forget.
Carly standing in the kitchen, her face pale and tear-stained as the truth finally spilled out of her mouth. The way I looked to Freddy for confirmation, and when I saw the guilt in his eyes, my life fractured.
After that, nothing fit back together properly.
I wonder what Freddy will look like now. If prison has hardened him or hollowed him out. If the sharp edges of him have been worn down by routine and concrete and time, or if they’ve only sharpened.
I wonder if he’ll meet my eyes, or if he’ll look straight through me like I’m just another ghost from a life he burned to the ground.
But I’m not here for explanations. I just want answers. And I hate that the man responsible for my sister’s death might be the only one who has them.
