CHAPTER 3
My hands shake. My chest is tight. And as I turn the deadbolt, I startle at the click because there’s something almost ominous about the sound.
But at the same time, there’s no denying the relief I feel at finally finding myself behind a locked door.
Out there, I have to be strong. Brave. Swallow my fear.
In here? I can crumble.
“Cassie.” Jake’s voice breaks over my name.
Turning to face him, I practically throw myself into his embrace. Bury my face in his chest as his arms tighten around me. Squeeze my eyes shut against the invading tears as he rests his chin against my head.
He holds me silently while my pulse slows. As my breath comes easier. Until the tension that had turned my muscles into stone eases.
“Cassie,” he says again, whispering this time. “That was too close.”
I nod against him, swallowing hard.
“I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t.”
“Maybe… maybe you should reconsider testifying.”
I lean back until I can see his face, but he won’t meet my eyes.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“But you could. They have Bianchi’s fingerprints on the murder weapon. Pictures of the crime. My mom’s confession. The prosecutor can get a conviction without you taking the stand.”
“Exactly.”
“Then why do it? I understand getting justice for your parents, but it’s not worth the risk.”
“I agree.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. Do you think I like being shot at?” I ask hoarsely, almost choking on the lump in my throat.
“Then should I call the DA? Tell him you’ve changed your mind?”
“No.”
“Are you serious?”
“Completely. Jake—”
Releasing me, he crosses his arms. Shakes his head, jaw tense, nostrils flaring as he glares a hole into the wall. A spark of outrage lights inside my belly. Does he think I’m being difficult on purpose? That I somehow enjoy this?
“Don’t you think that if there was something I could do to make this all go away that I would?” My voice rises as I step away, beyond his reach. Shooting a glance toward the door, afraid of being overheard, I force myself to take a breath and speak calmer. “It’s too late for that.”
I rub my temples, trying to ease the throbbing that’s taken root. “You’re not seeing the big picture. They know I don’t need to testify to seal their convictions. They don’t care. That’s not what this is about.”
“Then what is it about? Tell me, Cassie. I’m trying to understand.”
Turning my back, I take a moment to compose myself so I’m not screaming when I say, “Revenge.”
He curses. The couch creaks as he takes a seat. Risking a peek behind me, I find him cradling his head in his hands, fingers threaded through his dark hair.
“Let’s leave,” he says, without looking up.
“We can’t do that.”
“But we could.”
“The animals—”
“We could find a chunk of land somewhere, open a new sanctuary. Pay someone to take care of them until we get settled, then send for them.”
“But this is home,” I say quietly. Swallowing hard, I add, “And even if it wasn’t, leaving might not solve anything. I don’t want to have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life, worrying about them finding us.”
“Then what do you suggest? That I just stand by and wait until the inevitable day comes when someone makes the shot? When you’re the target?” His face is red, eyes moist as he looks up at me. “I can’t do that. I won’t.”
I hate seeing him like this. Hate feeling like it’s my fault, when it’s not. It isn’t his, either. We were just children when this was all set in motion.
Crossing to him, I take a seat on the arm of the couch beside him. Try to muster a smile, though I fail, as I cup his face in my hands.
“I’m not asking you to.”
Wrapping an arm around me, he scoops me from my perch onto his lap.
As I settle against him, I do my best to forget about the danger and the chaos, trying to focus only on the here and now—the way my heart feels like it’s turning cartwheels when he holds me, the faint scent of soap still clinging to his skin, how, even now, when it seems like danger is lurking around every corner, I long to lose myself in him.
“I’m going to think of something. Find a way to fix this. We’re going to take our lives back,” I say. “I promise.”
I hope that it’s true. But if it’s not? Then I pray that I’ve at least found a way to keep him safe when it turns out I’m wrong.