“I . . .” My mother faltered. She knew it wasn’t her or Jamie, which meant it had to be me.

“Well?” Rose pressed. “Do you have any other explanation?”

“No,” my mother finally whispered.

“No?” Rose demanded.

“No,” Mother said. “I don’t.”

I didn’t understand. I pushed off the wall, leaning closer but staying out of sight.

“So you confess to helping the boy escape?” Rose asked.

“He’s just a boy, Rose,” my mother said, her tone low and controlled.

Confusion spread across my chest. What was she doing?

“You have no idea what you’ve done here,” Rose said, voice scalding.

“Tell us where he is,” Jamie snapped.

“I won’t,” my mother replied.

No, I thought. No, she can’t do this! I stepped forward and felt a hand grab my arm to pull me back. I spun to see Bobbie standing beside me, shaking her head.

“That boy will be the end of Haven Valley!” Rose cried. “Tell us where he is or I swear you will be thrown to the Fury!”

“I can’t let her do this,” I whispered, tugging against Bobbie’s hold.

She placed her other hand on my shoulder. “Yes you can, and you must.”

“Think carefully about what your silence will cost you,” Rose threatened.

“Mother, please,” Jamie said. “I beg you, please—”

“I won’t allow you to harm him,” my mother said. “He’s Ben’s son.”

“Take her!” Rose shrieked. “I swear it will be your life or his. Take her away!”

I struggled against Bobbie’s hold, tears filling my eyes and spilling down my cheeks. I wanted to cry out that it was me they wanted, that I was the guilty party. But my voice was lost to my shock and grief. And to Bobbie’s warning stare.

“Why are you holding me back?” I raged at her.

“Because you want me to,” Bobbie said. And that crushed me, because deep down I knew she had to be right.

There were more mumbled words downstairs, more heavy steps, and then finally there was nothing but silence.

I fell forward into Bobbie’s arms and she pulled me close as I wept, tortured by a single thought.

I didn’t deserve to live.

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

I LAY AWAKE MOST OF THE NIGHT, VACILLATING BEtween raw emotion and numbness. Back and forth, neither granting me any peace.

I’d heard Jamie come home a few hours before the sun came up. He plodded up the stairs, maybe in exhaustion, maybe in disbelief. He paused outside my door, and I feared he might come inside. What would I say to him if he did? Would he see the guilt written all over my face, drag me away to lock me in a cell with my mother?

I never found out, because he didn’t come in. He just stood outside my door for a minute before walking back down the stairs.