It’s funny how something that felt so intrinsic to who I was for so many years, now feels like a stranger.
“I’m sure,” I reply.
Seth leans on the edge of the gray cubicle wall, nodding. “You know it won’t change much. We won’t stop the case, not until we find what we’re looking for.”
I swallow around the knowledge I’m keeping close to my chest, and I stand up, grabbing my badge and my gun, knowing they’ll need them back when I resign. “I know.”
“Want me to come with you to tell him?” he asks.
“Woodsworth. Adams. My office, now,” Cap’s voice yells out.
I grin at Seth. “Looks like you don’t have a choice.”
Seth’s hand meets my shoulder and squeezes, holding me in place. “I’m your partner, but more than anything, I’m your friend. Professionally, I can’t condone what you’re doing.” He pauses, a slight smile lining the corners of his mouth. “But personally… it makes me happy as hell to see the man behind the machine.”
He walks away before I can say anything back, but his words ache in the deepest parts of me. I’d give anything to go back to how I used to be, because this feeling now? It fucking sucks.
And I don’t know if it will ever go away.
I follow Seth down the narrow aisle through the cubicles and head into Cap’s office, stopping short when I see Oscar Norman, mayor of Kinland, sitting next to another man in a gray suit and mussed up hair.
Cap smiles when we walk in. “Fantastic news, boys. Turns out it doesn’t matter that you fucked up.”
I frown, confused.
“Gentlemen, meet Agent Baum.” Cap nods toward Oscar. “And this is Mayor Norman.”
Agent Baum stands from his chair, reaching out his hand to shake mine, his wire-framed glasses falling slightly down his face. “Nice to meet you.”
“What’s going on?” Seth asks, looking around with a furrowed brow.
Cap nods toward the men. “Agent Baum is with the Chicago division of the FBI. They’ve been building a case against the Westerlys for the past few years, and they’ve had a big break.”
My stomach drops. Fucking FBI.
“And you’re here because?” I jerk my chin toward Oscar.
Agent Baum clears his throat. “The mayor and the commissioner of Kinland recently decided they’d rather cooperate with us than not.” He grins over at him. “Isn’t that right, Oscar?”
Oscar’s lips are pressed tight as he nods.
“He’s been integral in getting us what we need against both the Cantanellis and the Westerlys.”
A light bulb explodes in my brain. The charity on Oscar’s yacht. The meeting. Holy shit.
I whoosh out a breath, sinking into a chair in the corner of the room, my elbows going to my knees as I take in what this means, what they’re saying.
Agent Baum bobs his head. “We appreciate all you’ve done up to this point. I’m here as a favor, to let you know your hard work won’t be forgotten. As soon as you can get us access to all your evidence, the better.”
Seth laughs. “There’s not much we can offer.” He glances at me. “Our focus was on finding the supplier, not building a case for petty crimes. Agent Woodsworth was made before we could find them.”
My leg taps out a nervous rhythm.
Agent Baum grins. “But we did.”
37
EVELINE
It’s been two days since my world was once again turned upside down and I found out that Brayden is a lie. That everything between us was a lie.
I feel dirty.
Used.
And more than anything, I feel really, really fucking stupid. I’ve always prided myself on being the brains of the family, but how smart can I be if I let this happen?
Closing my eyes, I lean back against Nessa’s tombstone. “You lied to me, Ness,” I whisper into the wind. “You said family’s all I need, that we have to stick together. Turns out that’s bullshit.”
I shake my head, my fingers threading through the grass beneath me. My lower lip trembles and I snap my eyes back open, staring at the notebook in my lap. I open it, scanning over the messy handwriting and scratched-out words that blur together on the pages. I run a fingertip down the last poem I was able to write. Now every single letter reminds me of him.
My palm tenses and I grip the page, tearing it from the book. It feels good, so I do it again. And again.
Rip. Tear. Rip.
I don’t stop until every single thing is torn from the binding and in pieces on the ground. My eyes scan the space around me and I grab the shredded pages, placing them on the base of Nessa’s marker, in a little pile on the stone. Reaching into my pocket, I grip the matchbook from Winkies that I brought, just in case, and I move forward on my knees, my fingers shaky.
Every word feels like a confession now instead of an escape. Sappy poems from a broken, lonely girl, pretending to be something strong.
The wind whips across my face, strands of my hair tickling my cheeks, and I breathe in deep, striking the match against the cardboard and dropping it into the torn up parts of me, watching the words go up in flames.
With every second they burn, my soul throbs with an ache I’m sure I’ll wear for the rest of my life. And I hate Nick just a little bit more for stealing the one thing that felt like mine.
He was the king of pretty words, so now I’ll make him king of the ashes.
The fire burns quickly, and then goes out when there’s nothing left.
Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
I reach forward, blowing on the ash until it scatters, floating away over the graves of a hundred different people. Maybe my little love spells can be their calm in the chaos.
“My whole life I’ve lived for other people, and I’m done.” I look at Nessa’s tombstone one last time. “That means I have to stop living for you too, Ness. I hope you understand.”
Sadness weaves its way through me, and although it’s hard, it feels oddly cathartic too, as if deep underground chains are snapping from my body, freeing me from the constraint the blood in my veins and my last name have always caused.
“No matter where I go in life, Nessa, no matter who I love and lose… I think I’ll always miss you the most.”
Smacking a kiss to the palm of my hand, I press it to her tombstone before backing up and walking away, leaving a single poppy flower at the base of her grave.
I head straight back to the estate, bypassing the main entrance and walking around to the back, going to the cottage instead. Honestly, I don’t plan on staying after everything is destroyed, but in the meantime I can’t stand to see the faces of people who never really cared.
Zeke is sitting on the patio, leaned back in a chair, cigarette smoke billowing in the air around him. And in all of my grief, all of my sadness, I had forgotten a major detail from the other night.
Zeke’s name was mentioned in a room of federal agents.
I squint my eyes, walking up to him as he looks over at me, then back up at the sky.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you, Ezekiel.”
He pauses, the cigarette halfway to his mouth. “They told me you found out, you know? Called me last night, trying to convince me to leave. Witness protection or some bullshit.”