29. Theo
29
Theo
T he engine hums beneath us as the truck rolls down the quiet morning streets, a calm that feels too fragile to last. It’s a stillness that tricks you into thinking everything’s fine—until it isn’t. The dull, overcast gray sky makes it impossible to tell what time it is, like even the universe is holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable storm.
Selene sits in the passenger seat, her knee bouncing ever so slightly—a subtle but telling sign of her nerves. I don’t blame her. My grip on the wheel is tight enough that my knuckles ache, but I can’t seem to loosen it. In the backseat, Mo leans forward, her elbows on her knees, eyes sharp as she scans the road ahead. She hasn’t uttered a word in at least fifteen minutes, which is saying a lot.
We’re heading to the cafe first, a quick pit stop to grab some supplies Aubrey left behind when she closed up for the week. The last fucking week she’ll ever step foot in Bear & Brew. Maybe even as a free person.
I swallow against the burn in my throat. My cafe. I’ve been saying that since the day I took it over, but it’s never felt more personal than it does right now. Because it wasn’t just a business to me—it was my safe place, my home, a part of my damn soul. And all this time, Aubrey was there. Laughing, serving coffee, and playing the role of doting aunt as if she hadn’t left a trail of bodies behind her. Like she hadn’t stolen people’s lives, destroyed families, killed my mother—
My jaw tightens, the anger a slow, simmering thing that’s been festering since the moment I found out what she really is. It builds in my chest, thick and suffocating, but I can’t let it take over. Not yet.
I force myself to take a steady breath. Keep it together. One more hour. Then she won’t be able to hurt anyone ever again.
“You okay?” I ask, my voice rougher than I mean for it to be.
Selene nods, but it’s a little too quick. “Yeah. Just…running through everything in my head.”
“Me too,” Mo mutters from the back. She’s been quieter than usual, her usual sharp tongue dulled by the weight of what’s coming.
“We’ve got this,” I say, trying to inject more confidence into my voice than I feel. “We’ve gone over the plan a hundred times. Orion’s team will be in place. We confront her, let her talk just enough to get what we need, and then they swoop in. Clean. Controlled. No surprises.”
Mo lets out a soft laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Do you honestly think there’s a world where Aubrey doesn’t have some kind of surprise waiting for us?”
I don’t answer right away because, well, she’s right. Aubrey’s not a person who goes down without a fight. She’s too damn smart to not have a contingency plan. The plan might be solid, but that doesn’t mean I’m not bracing for things to go sideways.
“Which is why we’re sticking to the script,” Selene cuts in, her voice firm. “We control the narrative. Keep her talking, keep her focused on the two of you. She likes control, right? Let her think she’s got it, and when the time comes, we pull the rug out from under her.”
“And if she doesn’t bite?” I ask, twisting in my seat to look back at Mo. This entire plan rides on us, we need to make sure we know the ins and outs of the plan.
Mo nods, a knowing look in her eyes, her expression grim. “Then Orion’s team steps in early. But let’s not jump to worst-case scenarios just yet.”
I want to believe her. But worst-case scenarios seem to follow us like shadows.
I pull into the cafe parking lot, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as I park by the alley leading to the side entrance. The place looks eerie this early in the morning, the windows dark and the usual buzz of customers conspicuously absent. For years, I’d walked into this building feeling like I belonged like I was carrying on a tradition that mattered. But now, standing in front of it, all I feel is sick. Aubrey always kept the place lively—another piece of the facade she wore so well.
Selene glances at me as I kill the engine. “What’s the plan for this stop?”
“Quick in and out,” I say. “We grab the stuff Aubrey left and what Orion wanted us to pick up, and then we head straight to the cemetery.”
Mo’s already opening her door before I finish talking. “Let’s make it quick. I don’t like sitting out here when all I can think about is what’s next.”
She’s not wrong. My gut’s been twisted in knots since we left the house like we’re all walking straight into a trap we can’t see.
Selene catches my hesitation as we step out of the truck. “You good?”
I force a smile. “Yeah. Let’s just get this over with.”
She doesn’t call me out on the lie, and I appreciate that.
We step inside, and the scent of coffee and sugar lingers in the air, but it feels different now. Wrong. Tainted. Anger coils tight in my chest, burning hot and deep. This was supposed to be my sanctuary.
She played me. She looked me in the eye, called herself my family, and smiled. And all this time, she was the reason my parents never made it home.
I clench my jaw, forcing the rage down, stuffing it into the deepest part of me, because if I let it out now, I won’t be able to stop. Not until I’ve torn everything apart.
Not yet.
But soon.
The cemetery is quiet when we pull up, with a stillness that feels heavy, almost oppressive. I cut the engine and glance toward the far edge of the lot, where a cluster of oaks cast long shadows over the graves. My grip tightens on the steering wheel as I take in the scene ahead, my pulse hammering in my ears.
And there she is—Aubrey.
She’s set up under the largest oak tree, a picture-perfect spread like a scene out of a Southern Living magazine. A checkered blanket, a pitcher of sweet tea beading with condensation, a neat little tray of cupcakes. And right in the center, like a sick joke, a cookie cake with bright, looping letters spelling out Happy Anniversary!
I can’t breathe for a second.
My stomach twists as I stare at those words, at the bright, happy colors smeared across the frosting, as if this is some innocent family gathering instead of what it really is—a twisted performance. A carefully staged manipulation.
Mo exhales sharply behind me, and I reach back to squeeze her knee. “We stick to the plan,” I say quietly, though the words taste like ash in my mouth.
She nods, gripping the edges of her shorts, her knuckles white. Mo lets go to fidget with her long braided hair as she mutters, “This woman’s got a lot of nerve, I’ll give her that.”
Nerve doesn’t even begin to cover it. This isn’t just bold. It’s cruel.
Aubrey looks up as we approach, her face lighting up with a bright smile that’s as practiced as it is disarming.
“Teddy, Selene, Morgan! You made it!” She rises to her feet, brushing nonexistent dust from her dress. Her tone is warm, and inviting, like we’re the family I thought we were gathering for a nice morning picnic.
Teddy.
I used to love the way she said my name like that, warm and affectionate. Now it makes my skin crawl.
I force myself to smile. It feels wrong. Foreign.
“Of course we did,” I say, stepping onto the blanket. “You’ve gone all out.”
Aubrey beams, gesturing to the spread. “Well, it’s a special occasion. Gabriel wouldn’t want anything less.” Her voice softens as she adds, “He loved a celebration, didn’t he?”
The mention of his name shouldn’t hit as hard as it does. But it does. Because Gabriel was real. He was good. And now he’s gone.
Just like my mother.
Just like my father.
Just like her first husband.
Selene nods stiffly, her eyes flicking to the cookie cake before darting away. Mo’s already crouching near the cupcakes, pretending to examine them like she’s considering which one to grab, but I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she’s holding herself too still.
“This looks amazing, Aunt Aubrey,” I say, keeping my voice steady even as rage coils hot and violent in my chest. “You always knew how to make an occasion special.”
Her smile widens, and for a moment, I see the woman I thought I knew. The one who raised me, who baked cookies for my school fundraisers, and hosted every holiday with grace and charm.
But now I know better.
That woman never existed.
The truth is so much darker.
“Sweet tea, anyone?” Aubrey offers, lifting the pitcher. “It’s my special recipe, of course.”
Of course, it is.
“Sure,” Selene says, her tone clipped but polite. She accepts a glass, and I watch as her fingers brush against Aubrey’s. Just the briefest touch, but I see it in her eyes—the same revulsion I feel crawling beneath my skin.
I take a seat on the blanket, motioning for Mo to do the same. She hesitates, then sits cross-legged, plucking a cupcake from the tray.
“That one’s red velvet,” Aubrey says, nodding toward Mo’s choice. “Gabriel’s favorite.”
Mo takes a deliberate bite, chewing slowly. Then, with a sweet smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, she says, “You know, Aubrey, this is a beautiful setup. You always did have a way of getting what you wanted. Like you always say ‘no matter what it takes.’”
The words hang in the air, deceptively light but sharp as glass.
Aubrey’s smile falters, just for a fraction of a second before she smooths it away, tilting her head just so. Calculating. Measuring. “Well,” she says smoothly, “when you love someone, you go the extra mile. Don’t you agree, Teddy?”
My whole body locks up.
Her gaze lands on me, warm and expectant, like she’s daring me to disagree.
I want to. God, I want to throw the words back in her face. To scream, Love doesn’t look like this. Love doesn’t kill people. Love doesn’t lie.
But I can’t. Not yet.
I swallow hard, my jaw aching from how tightly I’m clenching it. “Yeah,” I say. “You do whatever it takes to make sure everything is perfect.”
Aubrey gives me a tight smile before she busies herself pouring glasses of sweet tea, her movements precise and elegant, like she’s done this a thousand times before. As she hands the rest of us a glass, her eyes linger just a little too long, searching for something—what, I can’t say.
But I do know one thing.
She’s expecting something.
Selene and I exchange a quick glance as Aubrey turns her back to reach for the last glass. I can see the tension in her jaw, and the slight tremor in her fingers as she grips her cup. My heart pounds, every instinct screaming at me not to drink.
She’s done this before. She’s done this before.
And the worst part?
I don’t know how many people sat right where we are now, drinking her sweet tea, eating her cupcakes, smiling and laughing—right before they died.
Aubrey stands up, raising her glass, her face glowing with what looks like genuine affection. The illusion is seamless. She’s always been good at that.
“A toast,” she says, her voice full of warmth. “To Gabriel, the love of my life. And to family, who keep his memory alive.”
Selene’s hand brushes against mine as we lift our glasses. It’s small, but it grounds me and keeps me from drowning in the rage that’s threatening to swallow me whole.
Mo shifts slightly, holding up her glass but keeping her fingers curled around the rim, her lips pressed together in a look that almost resembles a smile.
None of us drink.
Aubrey doesn’t notice.
Or maybe she does.
And maybe that’s the real game we’re playing now—waiting to see who cracks first.
I can feel my pulse in my throat, heavy and unrelenting. If she did poison us, we have fifteen minutes until she notices we haven’t taken a drink. The thought makes my stomach churn, but I keep my expression smooth, even as my fingers tighten around the glass.
Mo, ever the actress, takes a loud, exaggerated gulp, smacking her lips as she sets the glass down on the blanket. “Mmm, just like I remember it,” she says with a grin. “You’ve still got the touch, Auntie.”
I don’t know how she does it. How she can smile at a woman who might have killed both her husbands and my parents without her hands shaking? My fingers twitch, my nails pressing into my palm. The woman I loved like a mother, the woman who taught me how to run my mother’s business and make the perfect caramel for Christmas popcorn, is looking at us like she’s hosting a goddamn garden party. Like she doesn’t have blood on her hands.
Aubrey beams, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she takes a sip of her own drink. My grip tightens on my glass. If there’s raw elderberry in here, does she trust that we’ll drink before she does? Or is she just that arrogant?
“Thank you, Morgan,” Aubrey says, her voice warm. “I’ve had plenty of practice over the years. Gabriel always insisted on perfection.”
Perfection. My jaw clenches so hard it aches.
She perfected everything—her lies, her masks, the way she wrapped us all around her little finger. And I was the easiest one to fool.
Selene sets her glass down on the edge of the blanket, her hand steady despite the tension in her shoulders. “It’s perfect,” she says softly, her tone unreadable.
I can feel the weight of her words. The accusation was just beneath them.
“Perfect,” I echo, forcing a smile. I wonder if she hears the strain in my voice if she can tell that every muscle in my body is locked tight, holding in the urge to grab her by the throat and demand the truth.
Aubrey settles back onto the blanket, looking pleased as she takes another sip of her tea. “It’s nice, isn’t it? All of us together, celebrating Gabriel. It’s exactly what he would have wanted.”
The words are a knife in my gut.
Gabriel. My uncle. The man who was more of a father to me than the one she murdered. He trusted her. Loved her. And she’s sitting here, toasting to his memory like she didn’t put him in the ground.
My fingers curl into fists, nails biting into my palm.
“Yeah,” I say carefully, my voice even. “Exactly what he would have wanted.”
Selene shifts slightly, adjusting her position on the blanket so she’s facing Aubrey more directly. “It’s impressive how you put all this together,” she says, gesturing to the spread of food, the flowers, the carefully arranged decorations. Her tone is light, almost conversational, but there’s a subtle edge to it. “It must’ve taken a lot of time and planning.”
Aubrey waves a hand dismissively, though her smile widens at the compliment. “Oh, not at all. It’s second nature by now. My Gabriel deserved the very best, and I always made sure he got it.”
“I bet you did,” Mo chimes in, her tone playful but her words razor-sharp. “I mean, you’ve got a real knack for… making things happen, don’t you?”
Aubrey tilts her head slightly, her smile faltering just a fraction. “Well, I like to think so. My Gabriel always said I had a way of pulling off the impossible.”
“Like that time you got him out of that business deal that was going south,” Selene adds, her voice tinged with curiosity. “Theo told me about it once. You must’ve been under so much pressure, but you handled it perfectly.”
Aubrey’s expression brightens again, her pride clearly swelling. “Oh, that was nothing. Gabriel was too trusting sometimes, and I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone taking advantage of him. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve always believed in doing whatever it takes to keep us safe.”
My chest tightens at her words, the double meaning not lost on me. I keep my voice steady as I jump in. “You’ve always been the problem solver, haven’t you? It’s almost scary how good you are at it.”
Aubrey laughs lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, someone has to be. I’ve learned that if you want things done right, you have to take matters into your own hands.”
Selene leans forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees. “And sometimes,” she says softly, “that means making difficult choices. Doesn’t it?”
The air shifts.
A flicker of unease—maybe suspicion—crosses Aubrey’s face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “Life is full of difficult choices,” she says, her tone measured. “But I’ve never been afraid to make them when it’s for the greater good.”
Bile rises in my throat.
The greater good. That’s what she tells herself. That’s how she justifies it.
Aubrey killed for control. For power. Not for love. Love doesn’t make you slip poison into a cup. Love doesn’t make you turn accidents into murder.
Mo nods, a slow smile spreading across her face. “That’s what I admire about you, Auntie. You’ve got guts. Most people wouldn’t have the nerve to do what you do.”
Aubrey’s gaze sharpens, flicking briefly between Mo and Selene before settling on me. Does she see it? The truth bleeding through the cracks in my mask?
“You’re all being so complimentary this morning,” she says, her voice light but her smile tight. “I almost feel like I’m being buttered up for a favor.”
I shrug, forcing a casual tone. “This is your first anniversary without Uncle Gabe, we just wanted to do what we could to make today as perfect as we could for you. Besides, we’re just giving credit where it’s due. You’ve always been good at thinking three steps ahead. It’s a little inspiring, honestly.”
Aubrey chuckles, but there’s a wary edge to her laughter now. “Well, thank you, Teddy. That means a lot coming from you.”
She still calls me that. Like I’m still the little boy who ran into her arms when he scraped his knee. Like I’m still blind to who she is.
Selene picks up the thread smoothly. “I guess that’s why everyone trusted you so much. You always seemed to have everything under control.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say everyone,” Aubrey replies, her smile returning but her eyes narrowing slightly. “There were always a few doubters here and there. But I’ve never let that bother me.”
“Of course not,” Mo says, leaning back on her hands. “You’re way too smart for that. You probably had them all figured out anyway.”
Aubrey’s fingers tighten slightly around her glass, the movement subtle but telling. “Well,” she says slowly, “it’s amazing what you can accomplish when you pay attention to the details.”
Selene nods, her gaze steady. “And when you make sure there aren’t any loose ends.”
For the briefest moment, Aubrey’s composure wavers. Her smile remains, but there’s a flash of cold calculation in her eyes—defensiveness, perhaps, or even calculation. It’s gone in an instant, replaced by a practiced warmth. “Exactly,” she says smoothly. “Loose ends can ruin everything if you’re not careful.”
My heart pounds, every word feeling like a step closer to the edge of a cliff. I force a grin, raising my glass slightly. “Here’s to tying up loose ends, then.”
Aubrey lifts her glass, her smile never faltering. “To tying up loose ends.”
We clink our glasses together.
The sound is sharp, hollow.
None of us drink.
And this time, I know she notices.