Chapter 8

"You still haven't learned your lesson," Fletcher said, his voice laced with contempt.

I was too weak to even respond. I just stared at him, my eyes hollow.

"You disgust me," he spat. "Get out of my sight. Walk back to the house yourself."

He turned and strode away, Aislinn clinging to his arm. He didn't look back.

He left me there, in the dirt, miles from the mansion.

As if on cue, the sky opened up. A cold, hard rain began to fall, soaking me to the bone in seconds. I stumbled along the private road, each step an agony. Rain and tears mixed on my face, but it didn't matter. No one could see.

Suddenly, a van screeched to a halt beside me. The side door slid open. Before I could scream, strong arms grabbed me from behind, and a cloth was pressed over my mouth. The world went dark.

I woke up on a boat. The floor rocked beneath me, and the smell of salt and diesel filled the air. My head throbbed.

Aislinn was there, tied to a chair across from me. Her expensive dress was torn, her makeup smeared. She looked terrified.

The man who had led the attack at the party stood before us, his face a mask of cold fury. This time, he was on a video call with Fletcher.

"I have them both, Dillon," the man snarled. "Your beloved Aislinn, and your trash wife. Now you have to choose. Which one lives? You can only save one. The other dies."

I didn't need to hear his answer. I already knew. I had lived his answer for the past year.

"I love Aislinn," Fletcher said, his voice clear and unwavering through the phone's speaker. "Only her."

The words, even though I expected them, were a final, fatal blow. My face went pale. Hope was a stubborn weed, and he had just ripped it out by the roots for the last time.

The gunman laughed and pressed the cold barrel of his pistol to my forehead. "You heard the man."

This was it. The chaos, the violence... it was all part of Evan's plan. A plan I had almost forgotten in the haze of pain.

In the split second before the gunman pulled the trigger, I acted. I threw my weight backward, toppling the chair. The shot went wide. I scrambled free from the ropes Evan' s operative had tied loosely and launched myself over the side of the boat, into the churning, black sea.

A bullet whizzed past my ear, striking the water beside me.

As I plunged into the icy depths, the last thing I saw was Fletcher's face on the phone screen. His eyes were wide, his mouth open in a silent scream.

Was he calling my name? Or hers? It didn't matter.

The cold water was a shock, stealing my breath. It filled my nose, my mouth, my lungs. I was sinking.

Images of my life flashed before my eyes. The grey walls of the orphanage. The constant hunger. The feeling of being unwanted, unloved.

No one loved me. No one would even miss me.

I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me. I let myself sink into the abyss.

Finally. Freedom.