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CRACK.
This time, the sound comes from Declan’s gun. I watch as he drops it to his side, his face wrinkled and unreadable. I no longer see Chris. He’s fallen behind the open car door.
There are no more gunshots, but the night is filled with so much other noise.
Jenn is screaming and crying, shouting Chris’s name. Kassara’s holding me tighter, whispering in my ear that it’s all going to be okay. She’s refusing to look toward Declan, and I suspect I know why.
I can’t stop shaking; the movements are so rapid and abrupt it hurts. Then, I see the lights. They’re here, but perhaps it’s too late.
The rest comes to me in flashes.
Declan doesn’t release my hand as they load me onto the stretcher. There’s an apology in his eyes and so much left unsaid, but I feel it all. On the ground, Chris lies in a puddle of blood next to his shotgun.
He fired the first shot.
It’s all I can think of as I finally fade out, no longer fighting. He fired the first shot. He tried to kill me. To kill us all.
He’s the reason my son is dead.
He’s the reason for so much pain and misery.
Declan killed him, and I’m glad he’s gone, but I wish it could’ve been me to take him out for good.
“You don’t,” Declan says, and I hadn’t realized I’d voiced that thought out loud. Tears well in my eyes as I see everything unsaid in his expression. He’s glad he took the choice, the pain, from me. He’s glad I don’t have to live with this decision, or the other one. He’d gladly take away my pain and guilt to bear the brunt of that for me.
When he leans down over me on the stretcher, I turn my head slightly, resting against his chest and shaking with sobs. We don’t let go of each other until we reach the hospital, Kassara right by my side.
I’m going home.
I’m safe.
I’m going to be okay.
I fought like hell, and just like the heroes I write about, I never gave up. Looking at Declan and Kassara, knowing I still have them, that I’ve always had them, I’m so thankful I didn’t.
Chris took so much from me, but I’m grateful for what—and whom—I have left.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
ONE YEAR LATER
They call me a survivor in my support group, but I don’t always feel like a survivor. Sometimes, I just feel like a fraud.
I was lucky.
Yes, I fought, but in hindsight, I failed. If Declan and Kassara hadn’t gotten my messages, I likely would’ve died in the trunk. The actions that I took—pulling the wires to disable the taillights which resulted in the crash, yes, but also publishing my books in the first place and then going to the meeting with Chris, are what led me here.
We’ve learned a lot about Chris in the past year, most of which I never wanted to learn and would just as soon not know. After a thorough investigation, the police now know he became a teacher at Liam’s school after he discovered it was where he attended. We finally understand that he befriended Liam with the intention of getting him out of my life. It breaks my heart to know my son trusted him, looked up to him, and he was betrayed and used in such a way.
We understand based on emails and chats they found on Chris’s computer, conversations he had with Liam—that he made him feel seen and protected when he was experiencing bullying. I’ll always regret and never understand why Liam was never fully open with us about that. We know whatever role Chris played in helping Liam make his decisions about that day, he was the one who acquired the gun for him.
In journal entries found by the police, Chris claims he did it so he could clear away the “noise” around me. He wanted me alone and was willing to take down everyone surrounding me to make that happen. Getting Declan out of the picture, too, with that one simple act, was just icing on the cake. He would’ve gotten him another way if it hadn’t worked out like that.
He never said as much, but I now understand he would’ve stopped at nothing to get me in that room. In the house his grandparents left for him after their deaths. The house he’d spent years preparing for my capture. The house I was meant to live and die in.
We also know that, after he was investigated and ultimately deemed innocent for leaving the door open, he was forced to resign from the school. Because of that, he began working at a local fast-food restaurant, which was why I found the uniform in his closet and why he so often smelled of burgers when he was with me.
I don’t know this for certain, but I assume the reason he began working with Kassara at Speak Stream as his second job was to get her out of the way, too. I’m forever grateful he didn’t see that plan through.
