Page 81 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

"I'm leaving," I say quietly.

The words hurt more than I expected. Finn's jaw tightens. "No."

"There you go again."

He takes a step closer. "And I'll keep doing it."

My frustration rises immediately. "I can't keep living like this." The confession leaves swiftly, months of exhaustion following it—the accusations, the suspicion, the whispers, the loneliness. Everything.

Finn's expression softens, only slightly. "Reina."

"No." My voice cracks, and I hate it. I absolutely hate it. "I can't keep doing this."

The room grows quiet, the wind rattling softly against the lighthouse windows. I continue before courage fails me. "They hate me."

Finn opens his mouth. I don't let him speak. "They blame me for everything." My throat tightens. "They always have."

The words echo through the room, painfully honest, painfully true. Finn watches me carefully, not interrupting, not arguing, just listening, which somehow makes everything harder.

I laugh softly, without humor. "Maybe they're right."

The moment the words leave my mouth, Finn's expression changes, the softness vanishing completely. "No." The response arrives immediately, sharp enough to cut.

I look away. Finn doesn't allow it. "No," the word comes again, stronger. "You don't get to say that."

I fold my arms tighter. "Why not?"

"Because it isn't true."

The certainty in his voice frustrates me, mostly because part of me wants it. Wants to believe it. I shake my head. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," the answer arrives without hesitation.

The room falls silent. Finn takes another step closer. "If you leave now, everything we've fought for becomes meaningless."

I look away, toward the window, toward the sea. Anywhere but him.

"The town will think they're right," Finn continues, his voice remaining steady. "They'll think the accusations were true."

I don't answer, because he's right, and I hate that he's right.

Finn gestures toward the journals, toward the evidence, toward everything spread across the room. "We're close. We have proof." His gaze holds mine. "We have people who believe you."

The statement fazes me. My thoughts immediately jump to Lisa, Iris, Gideon, even Row. The realization settles quietly. I am not standing alone anymore.

The problem is that fear doesn't disappear simply because someone points out facts. Fear remains. Fear whispers. Fear convinces.

Finn catches the hesitation. His voice softens. "You aren't fighting this alone."

The words hit harder than I expect, because I've spent so long fighting alone. The habit remains. The instinct remains. Run. Leave. Protect yourself.

Finn reaches for my hand, the contact warm, steady, real. "You don't have to carry all of it."

I look down, then back up. The doubt is still there. He sees it. I know he does.

The room falls quiet again. Then Finn does something unexpected—he laughs. The sound catches me completely off guard.

I blink. "What?"