“Well?” Rafe asked.

“No news at all,” Mercy said. “I’m going to call the hospital really quickly, just in case he’s awake and they’re too busy to text me.” She dropped a kiss on Rafe’s cheek and went into the hall to call.

Gideon watched her go. “Part of me doesn’t want her to go near the door, with that stained glass. It’s not bullet-resistant. But that’s overbearing, right?”

Daisy chuckled. “Right,” she said around a mouthful of chicken. “Especially since there’s a Fed on the curb. Where are Farrah and André?”

“At Mom’s,” Rafe said. “Mom wanted to keep an eye on them until the sedative was all out of André’s system. They’ll be coming back here later to pack.”

“They’re here,” Mercy said, coming back into the apartment, Farrah and André on her heels. And following them was Tom Hunter, who’d apparently driven them from the Sokolovs’ house.

Luckily Sasha had brought plenty of food, because they had none left by the time they’d all eaten their fill.

“That was so good,” Mercy moaned, and Rafe wished everyone were gone so he could hear her moan like that again, but kicking them out would be rude, so he gritted his teeth.

And gave Sasha the finger when she smirked at him.

Tom put his napkin down. “So. I know some things now.”

Everyone stopped talking. “Like?” Mercy prompted.

“Like what’s in that safe-deposit box,” Tom said. “The box held a spiral notebook, handwritten. Two different writers—Ephraim and Edward. Or Harry and Aubrey, if you prefer. It was a list of all the things they’d done—in Eden and before. But it wasn’t just a detail of the brothers’ activities. The sins of Pastor and Waylon were noted as well. In graphic detail.”

“Why?” Farrah asked. “Why would they write that down?”

“It’s a dead man’s switch,” André said, “or an insurance policy. If one of them gets killed mysteriously, the records will be shared, usually with the newspaper or law enforcement. It’s a way to keep order among the criminals. Otherwise they would have turned on each other years ago.”

“Which is why Belinda Franklin said she hadn’t used the key,” Mercy murmured. “She said her baby was dead, but she didn’t use the key. Because Aubrey wasn’t killed by one of the other Founders.”

Gideon’s mouth tightened and Daisy hooked her hand around his arm, pressing a kiss to his biceps. “I’m glad he’s dead,” she said fiercely, but Gideon’s gaze flicked to Mercy before looking away.

“Gideon. Look at me.” Mercy leaned across the table to grab a handful of his sleeve, yanking until he met her eyes. “Now listen to me. I’m glad you killed him. I’m glad you got away. And if I’d known the truth back then, I still would have been happy you got away.”

Gideon swallowed hard. “But you didn’t get away.”

Inclining her head, she let go of his sleeve and clasped his hand. “Yes, I did. Eventually. And it was awful, I’m not gonna lie. But I’m also not lying when I say that had I known then what I know now, I still would have been glad. Now wrap your mind around that, because it’s the truth and until we put this behind us, we can’t move forward.”