Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Gabbi
The police station was freezing, the kind of cold that seeped into my skin and settled in my bones.
Everything felt too bright, too sterile, the overhead fluorescent lights buzzing faintly against the hum of voices and shuffling papers.
The scent of coffee and old paper lingered in the air, mixing with something else—something heavier.
The weight of everything we had just survived clung to me, thick and suffocating.
I sat stiffly in a plastic chair, arms wrapped around myself, staring at the officers moving in and out of different rooms. The boys were in another part of the station, being looked after by social workers, wrapped in thick blankets, their hollow eyes darting around like they still expected someone to grab them.
They were safe now, but I could see it in their faces—they didn’t believe it yet.
Beside me, Bobby was just as tense, his foot tapping against the linoleum floor, his fingers still wrapped around Liam’s wrist. He hadn’t let go since we got into the patrol car, and even now, even as Liam sat between us, quiet and withdrawn, Bobby’s grip remained firm. He wasn’t taking any chances.
Detective Alvarez approached, clipboard in hand, his expression unreadable. "We need to take your statements," he said, voice firm but not unkind.
Bobby’s jaw tightened. "Separately?"
Alvarez nodded. "It’s protocol."
Bobby inhaled slowly, his grip on Liam finally loosening. He turned to his brother, voice steady but softer than I’d heard it in years. "I’ll be right back."
Liam didn’t move at first, didn’t even acknowledge that Bobby had spoken. Then, slowly, he gave the smallest of nods. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Bobby to push himself up from his seat, his movements stiff as he followed another officer down the hall.
Alvarez turned to me next. "Come on, Mason."
Bobby shot me a look as I stood, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. I nodded once before following Alvarez, my boots echoing against the floor as we walked down the long corridor.
The interview room was colder than the rest of the station.
Gray walls, a metal table, two chairs—everything designed to make people feel small.
I sat down, rubbing my palms against my thighs, my pulse steady but too loud in my ears.
Alvarez settled across from me, flipping open his notepad, his face giving nothing away.
"Let’s start from the beginning," he said, clicking his pen. "How did you get into the camp?"
I exhaled slowly, keeping my voice level. "I knew where the camp was from the leads I had gathered. I got in by pretending to be lost. I played weak, vulnerable. Victor took the bait—at least at first."
Alvarez made a note, not looking up. "And how long before he became suspicious?"
"A few hours," I said, swallowing hard. "He never fully trusted me, but I gave him a reason to keep me there."
His gaze lifted then, sharp. "Which was?"
I hesitated. "I made him think I was useful."
"Useful how?"
I clenched my jaw. "I played into his ego. Made him believe I could be someone who could help him, someone who wanted to survive in his world. It kept him from questioning me long enough for me to find Liam."
Alvarez didn’t react, just wrote something else down. "Tell me about the night Victor was killed."
I forced myself not to flinch. "Bobby got there just in time."
"Just in time for what?"
My hands curled into fists against my lap. "Victor was going to make me prove my loyalty."
Alvarez’s eyes darkened slightly, but he didn’t push. "And Bobby shot him?"
I nodded. "One bullet. Clean. It was over in seconds."
More notes. Then silence. I felt his eyes on me, studying me, watching for cracks. I kept my face blank.
Finally, he exhaled and shut the notebook. "That’s enough for now."
I blinked. "That’s it?"
"For today," he confirmed. "We’ll have more questions later, but we’ve got enough to process for now."
I swallowed, nodding as I pushed myself up from the chair. My legs felt unsteady, my body screaming for rest, but I didn’t stop moving. The moment I stepped into the hallway, the tension in my chest tightened.
Bobby was walking out of another room, his face unreadable, his movements rigid. His fists were clenched at his sides, his shoulders drawn tight. I didn’t need to ask if his interview had been just as frustrating.
Before either of us could speak, another door creaked open, and Liam stepped out.
He looked small standing there, his hoodie swallowing his thin frame, his expression blank but his eyes flickering with something I couldn’t place. A social worker was speaking to him in hushed tones, but he barely seemed to hear her. Then, suddenly, his head turned—and his gaze locked onto mine.
I froze.
For a long, breathless moment, he just stared at me.
Then, softly, barely audible, he whispered, "Gabbi was there."
I barely had time to process it before Bobby was beside him, his hand resting lightly on Liam’s back, his face tight with emotion. "Yeah," Bobby murmured, voice rough. "She was."
Liam didn’t say anything else. But he didn’t move away either.
And that—that was enough.
I exhaled shakily, only realizing then that I had been trembling. I felt Bobby’s gaze shift to me, his brow furrowed slightly. Without thinking, I reached for his hand. His fingers tightened around mine, warm and steady, grounding me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.
"It’s over," he murmured.
I wanted to believe that. I really did. But as I looked at Liam, at the exhaustion in his young face, at the haunted way his shoulders curled inward, I knew the truth.
It would never truly be over.