Chapters (36)
Aubrey tilts her head, watching him like a predator savoring its final moments of control. “You think I’d make it easy? That I’d let you have that bond George loved so much?” Her voice is almost sweet, but it drips with malice. “No, I made sure you’d never know each other. I changed the records, gave different birth dates, and used different agencies. Even if you look, you’ll never find them. Which do you want more? A brother or a sister? Do you want to be the younger one? Or the older one? You’ll never know.”
Bennett’s breathing is slow, deliberate, but I see the tension in his jaw, the barely restrained fury in the way his hands clench into fists.
Aubrey leans in as much as the restraints allow, her voice dropping to a taunting whisper. “It was my final gift to your father. His children, forever strangers.”
Something inside me twists violently at the cruelty of it. Bennett doesn’t move, but I can feel the weight of what she’s done pressing down on him.
“You’re sick,” he finally says, his voice hollow. “And you’ll die alone, just like you deserve.”
Aubrey doesn’t answer, but I see it—the flicker of hurt in her eyes. A shadow of fear.
She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, Orion steps forward, holding up a small device. “That’s enough, Bennett,” he says, his voice firm. “We already have everything we need.”
Aubrey’s head snaps toward him, her eyes wide with realization. “What are you talking about?”
Orion smirks, tapping the device in his hand. “You already confessed to everything, we just had a few things we needed to clarify that the others didn’t get a confession to.”
Aubrey’s face goes ghostly pale, her lips parting in a silent gasp. Possibly for the first time, true panic flashes in her eyes.
Bennett steps back, his expression grim as he watches the weight of her actions finally catch up to her. “It’s over, Aubrey,” he says softly. “You can’t talk your way out of this one.”
She lets out a guttural scream, thrashing against the restraints on the stretcher. But no amount of struggling can save her now.
The sirens wail in the distance, signaling the arrival of another ambulance to take her away. As the FBI agents wheel her toward the exit, Bennett turns to us, his expression weary but resolute.
“It’s done,” he says, his voice low. “She can’t hurt anyone else now.”
None of us speak as we watch Aubrey disappear into the shadows, her cries fading into the night.
For the first time in years, the air feels lighter. Shadow Grove can finally begin to heal.