“I don’t care. I’m not going to sit here and sip my coffee like it’s over. Bethany is still there. Innocent people are still there.”

I knew there was no way to convince Raven otherwise, so I just let it go. “Alright.”

When Raven came home, she told me exactly what I’d expected to hear. “They acted like I was the crazy one.” She threw her purse down. “Like I was making it up to get attention. But they totally know about it. It’s so obvious.” She immediately grabbed a bottle of wine and filled a glass.

Told you so.

“I just can’t believe how fucking corrupt the police are. The fucking police.” She tilted her head back and took a deep drink.

I left the couch and stood on the other side of the kitchen island. “I’m sorry.”

She grabbed another glass and filled it for me.

I was used to the finest wine money could buy, so it made everything else taste like piss. It was hard to drink it, but I forced it down so I wouldn’t seem snooty.

She stood with her hands on the edge of the counter, looking past me at the window behind me. She was like that for a long time, her eyes glazed over, deep in thought.

A part of me expected Fender to show up at the door and drag me back to his palace, but he never did. Magnus had asked him to let me go, and he did. He’d probably only agreed because he believed I would stay, that there was nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.

Then I chose my sister over him.

I felt guilty when I shouldn’t.

She took a deep breath. “I have to go back…”

“Go back where?” I brought the glass to my lips and forced a sip.

Her only answer was a stare.

I pictured the cabins and the snow, the fire in the fireplace, the coke down the line, the faceless guards, the blood stained on the snow under the noose. I heard the howling wind against the windows, felt the ache in my legs as I walked through several feet of snow every single day to the clearing.

“And I’m not going alone.”

Two

Bottom of the Bottle

Fender

The fire died down in my office. The flames were absent, and only a red smolder remained. The bottle on my desk was empty, and so was my glass. It was late into the night, and work no longer required my attention because I’d been spending all my time working—and nothing else.

Gilbert entered the study, hands behind his back, his posture upright even though it was well in the evening and he should retire to bed so he could wake up early and repeat this shit all over again. “Shall I add another log, sir?”

I gave a slight nod.