It’s not exactly the ending I’d been envisioning, but it’s an ending, nonetheless. After far too many weeks of living in the shadows, I’m slowly stepping into the light, and it’s blinding. Too blinding, almost.

“What about Mason?”

A flicker of sympathy flashes across her features. “They’re questioning him too. Poor boy.”

My heart clenches. “Why?”

“Well, he was the one to . . .” She pauses, looking reluctant. “They have to thoroughly investigate.”

“But he saved my life,” I protest, panic creeping into my chest. “He didn’t do anything wrong. Damien would’ve killed me.”

Mom winces at the thought, clearing her throat. “They need to determine whether it was manslaughter, self-defense, or accidental. If it happened the way you told the police it did, he should be fine.”

“Can you help him?” Audrey cuts in.

She looks between the two of us, taking in the fear on my face. “If it comes to that, yes.”

Her answer eases my anxiety a bit, a numb feeling creeping back into my bones, and I barely register the words as Officer Edwards finally gives us the go-ahead to leave this suffocating building and go home. Mom places her hand on my back, telling Edwards to give her any updates as she ushers me to the exit, Audrey in tow. I come to a halt, causing them to look back at me in concern.

“What’s wrong?” Mom asks.

“I don’t want to leave without seeing Mason,” I say. “We should wait for him.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but we’re interrupted by a door opening across the room, and Mason exits, looking utterly exhausted, followed by an officer. Releasing myself from my mother’s grasp, I head in his direction. He’s talking with the officer escorting him, and he doesn’t notice me at first. When he does, the hard edge in his heterochromatic eyes softens, a hint of relief evident within them. His face is streaked with blood.

“Hey,” I greet softly. “How are you holding up?”

“I don’t know yet,” he tells me, speaking in a low murmur, and shaking his head. “It’s like a never-ending nightmare. It doesn’t feel real.”

I feel a pressure at the back of my eyelids. “I know what you mean.”

“Are you okay?”

“They said I could go home. I was just leaving.”

He places a gentle hand on my arm. “You should get out of here before they change their minds.”

“I wanted to see you and make sure you were all right,” I whisper, vision blurring again, and he swallows visibly. A haunted look passes over his features, and I reach out, taking his hand in mine, intertwining our fingers and bringing them up to my lips.

Mason clears his throat, his lips lifting in a ghost of a smile. “I’ll be okay. You can go.”