Even as horror at her confession rolls through me, I can picture the scene playing out in my head, as though I had been there myself. After all, I’d been to more parties with Ricky than I could count. It would have been a free-for-all with drugs everywhere. No one asks questions, except how they can get more. I always left as soon as things spiraled out of control.

“Then what happened?” I ask her.

Jackie shakes her head as she lowers the gun to the end of the gurney. “I left. I told myself if he decided not to do them, then it would be his own choice. But he did it. He put the needle in his veins. He killed himself.”

My entire body prickles with goose bumps. She sounds like she’s rationalizing her actions, but I don’t know what to think anymore. Technically, she’s right. She didn’t force that needle into his veins. He made that choice. But . . .

“What about Sylvia?”

Jackie’s expression turns hard. “I told you, she was making plans. She was talking to Maren about how she would take your place as soon as you were out of the way. Sylvia was never going to let you be with Lincoln. I slipped her the drugs in her tea. I would do it again. She would’ve never let you live happy, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, Whit. Just for you to live happy.”

“Too . . . bad . . . you . . . have to die now too.”

Harrison’s strangled voice comes from below us, and Jackie screams as he knocks her off her feet and she crashes to the floor.

“No!” I shout, lunging forward only to be caught by the handcuff where he locked it on the rail.

On the floor, Harrison hammers at Jackie’s face with his one good hand and his bloody stump before slamming her head into the floor over and over.

“Let her go!”

I grab the gun off the end of the bed, but there’s no way I can shoot Harrison without hitting my aunt, so I do something else completely and utterly stupid.

I shoot my handcuff instead, shutting my eyes as I squeeze the trigger.

The percussion of the shot deafens me, but through some miracle, the metal chain connecting the bracelet to the frame snaps free. I vault toward the hallway where Jackie tries to crawl away from Harrison.

“Whitney?”

My brother’s voice roars down the hallway as Harrison lashes out, catching me in the ankle. My feet go out from under me, and my head connects with the floor.

The last thing I hear before everything goes black is the sound of pounding footsteps and my brother’s bellow as he drags Harrison away from us.

Fifty-Two

Lincoln

Asa Gable comes out of the front of the hospital cradling two blood-spattered bodies against him, both with jet-black hair. When he lowers their dead weight to the ground, my heart practically stops.