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I couldn’t even call her my mother anymore.
She’d ceased being my mum the moment she made the decision to leave without Dad and me. She became a smear I had to wipe off the face of the earth the second she decided to kill my brother.
I’d cried my tears for her.
Now I’d fulfilled my promise for vengeance. I’d served my brand of justice to Asher’s killer.
I hadn’t expected it to be her sitting in that seat. I was looking for a man who’d been framed. He was completely innocent.
But now I knew the truth.
She deserved her ending.
I didn’t expect to be happy about it—I wasn’t—but I thought there would be more than the nothingness I was currently experiencing.
No, that wasn’t right.
I was relieved.
I was angry too. The sense of betrayal was overwhelming. We’d grieved for her, wasted a decade’s worth of our tears on her. Our hearts had shattered, and we’d barely survived ourselves.
Dad and I had missed her every day. Yet she’d been alive.
We’d lost Ash.
She’d stolen him.
She’d hurt him and kept him away from us—her fucked-up reasons didn’t even make sense.
Then she’d killed him.
Yeah, the overwhelming emotion was relief.
Relief that she was gone, that there was one less monster on this earth.
Now she had an eternity in hell before her.
She deserved every agonizing second of it.
“I'm fine,” Ry groaned. “Get the fuck off me.”
“No, hold still. You’re bleeding,” Tris grumbled.
“We need to get out of here,” he snapped back. “Let me get up.”
“Ry!” Flynn barked, kneeling beside him.
Ry shoved Tristan off him, dislodging his grip. Flynn lunged forward and held the makeshift bandage in place while Ry slowly sat up and took a few deep breaths. He was pale. Blood was smeared all over his throat and fingers. The sight of it had my heart rate climbing. Fear coursed through me. He needed to be okay.
He needed to survive.
“Listen to me, Tris,” Ry implored, calmer but no less determined. “We can't stay here. There are staff quarters on site. There are neighbours. There’s no way someone didn’t hear those gunshots.” He breathed again, his eyes closing as he looked like he was fighting off nausea. “We need to leave the country. Tonight. Our stuff stays at the house. It’s gone.”
Ry got one knee under himself, and Flynn steadied him, still holding the dark shirt in place. Tristan wavered, knowing the truth of Ry’s words. It was why we’d packed the essentials into the Tesla—our passports, money, computers, and our phones. They were the only things we needed to get out of Mauritius.
Tris hooked the arm on Ry’s uninjured side over his shoulders and helped him to his feet, making sure he was steady enough to stand.
“Help me get to the car. I’m not dead yet, so the bullet didn’t nick an artery. I’ll be fine. Flynn and Ezra can patch me up after I take off.”
