49. Brody #2
I trace circles on her skin. “Let them keep talking. None of it touches us now.”
She believes it. I can feel it, the tension melting, the fear draining away, replaced by something like hope. Cautious, stuttering, fucked-up hope. But hope, all the same.
The silence deepens, but it’s not empty. It’s full of everything we survived, all the ways we didn’t shatter.
She leans her head on my shoulder. I let my cheek rest against her hair. We fit, even with all the damage.
I watch the sky lighten outside the window. The world is different now. Burned-out, but still spinning.
Nothing will ever be normal. But this? This is enough.
For now.
Lola is still asleep in my arms when the news flickers to a commercial. I reach for my phone. and the motion wakes her, just enough. Eyes wide, wild, afraid of what comes next.
She whispers, “What are you doing?”
I type fast. “Telling Sophie the truth.”
Lola sits up, panic simmering. “No—she’s not ready. Not for all of this. She’ll break.”
I stare at her. “She deserves the truth. She deserves to decide what to do with it.”
Come next door. You need to know what happened.
The house goes silent. Only the hush of the TV, muted now, showing slow motion footage of my father’s collapse. Lola pulls a blanket tight over her shoulders, watching the window.
A knock comes followed by silence. Then, the front door opens. Footsteps echo down the hall. Sophie’s hair is messy, eyes swollen, and her phone clutched in her hand, news alerts going off in a rhythm. She doesn’t knock. She just stands in the doorway, shaking.
“What did you do?” Voice hollowed out, stripped to the bone.
I don’t answer right away. I let the silence hang, see if she’ll run. She doesn’t. Lola tenses. I can feel it down to my bones. She wants to shield Sophie, to block everything out. But she doesn’t move.
I stand up, blocking the TV, so Sophie has to look at me. “We ended it,” I say. “For good. All of it, Soph.”
Her lips barely move. “You… what does that mean? Why are they saying Dad’s a criminal? That he— That he’s been doing these things?”
I don’t blink. “He was always this, Soph. Just kept it out of sight. I found the evidence. I gave it to the people who would use it.”
Her face shatters, piece by piece. “You destroyed him. You destroyed everything.”
I shake my head. “He did that to himself. I just made sure no one else would get hurt.” My voice drops, brutal honesty leaking out. “I don’t want to be his fucking kill dog anymore. He made me do terrible things, Sophie. Things you couldn’t even imagine.”
She staggers, clutches at the wall, like she’s going to be sick. “No, no, no…” She sinks to the floor, knees drawn up, sobs quaking through her. “He was my dad. He was—”
I step closer. Old instinct to help, to patch and fix. But the words turn to stone in my throat. What comfort can I offer? None. I am just the messenger, the executioner. I hover, helpless.
Lola kneels beside Sophie, gentle hands, soft words. “Can I get you water? Or a blanket?” Her kindness makes me ache.
Sophie just stares down, hands over her face. Like she could rip the past away if she claws hard enough.
“I’m sorry, Soph,” I say. “This was the only way.”
She cries so hard. Every sob twists something in my chest. She didn’t know, not really. I kept her in the dark, kept the rot hidden so she could have some semblance of normal.
Now there’s nothing left but the jagged wreckage.
Her voice cracks. “What else? What aren’t you telling me?”
I take a deep breath, preparing to drag the filth up.
“NorthLine was never just a shipping company. It was how Marcus and Dad moved people, money, anything they needed. Dad covered for Marcus. He did worse than cover. He made threats disappear, ruined witnesses, wrecked lives. Marcus did the violence, but Dad set the stage, cleaned it up after. But, a few years ago, Marcus staged mom’s death and had it covered.
Richard found out and it started a war between them. ”
Lola meets my eyes, but this is my burden to bear.
“All those years—he made me his fixer. Followed dirty men to their graves, erased evidence, sometimes more. He said it was family loyalty. Really, it was just power. Survival.” My voice goes dead. “He didn’t care about the cost. He only cared about never being exposed.”
Sophie shakes her head. “No. You’re lying. Dad was strict, but he was—he wasn’t—”
I cut her off. “He was. I found the files. The videos, the ledgers. He kept trophies, Soph. He wanted me to be like him. When I said no, he made threats. Sometimes worse. I’m not proud of what I did for him. But it ends now.”
Sophie’s nails dig into her arms, deep red marks. “What about Marcus? What about the others?”
“He’s gone,” I say. Final, absolute. “He won’t bother you. He’ll never touch anyone again.”
She looks up, wet brown eyes, terror blooming. “Is he…? Is he—”
I stare back, expression cold. “He’s not coming back.”
Sophie covers her mouth, almost gagging. “You—”
I cut her off. “I did what was necessary.”
Silence. The grave kind. Lola holds Sophie, but Sophie just shakes, lost in her own private nightmare.
I stand there, the weight of a thousand crimes pressing on my chest. Burnt out. Empty. Not even sure what I am, now that my job is finished.
Sophie looks up at me, hate and heartbreak fighting for air. “So that’s it? You just destroy everything and walk away?”
I almost laugh. “Nothing about this is walking away. It’s blood on the floor. It’s a memory that doesn’t fade.”
She rocks herself, back and forth, muttering. “He was my dad. He loved us. He—he—” The words get stuck.
“He lied to you,” I say. “He lied to everyone. I’m sorry for that.”
Lola strokes Sophie’s hair. She offers a crumpled tissue, a whisper of comfort Sophie won’t accept.
Sophie’s eyes glass over, fixed on the TV. Another anchor, more talking heads. The world dissects our family like vultures. Every secret, every sin, out for everyone to see.
“What will you do?” I ask, low. “Run damage control? Try to pretend it didn’t happen?”
She glares at me. “You don’t know what it’s like. To have your whole life shredded in front of you.”
I nod. “I do. You just never saw it happen before now.”
She crumples again, this time pressing her head into Lola’s shoulder. “What’s wrong with us? Why couldn’t we just be normal?”
No answer. There never was.
I kneel, meeting her broken gaze. “The only thing wrong was him. You did nothing but survive.”
She shakes her head, tears streaking down. “I don’t believe you.”
I stare at her. “Believe what you want. I’m done paying for his sins.”
I look at Lola. She’s shaking, too, but quieter. Resigned. Like she expected all of this.
Sophie’s words are wet and bitter. “Why didn’t you just leave? Why not run?”
I smile. “Maybe I thought there was something worth saving. Maybe I wanted to stop the cycle.”
She pushes my hand away. “You destroyed his legacy. Everything he worked for.”
I nod, cool. “Good. It was built on bodies.”
She turns away, can’t even look at me. I get it. I’m a ghost in my own skin, too.
Lola says, “You were brave, Brody.” Her voice barely above a whisper.
I shrug. “Not brave. Just done.”
We sit in it. The wreckage. The annihilation. My sister curling up small, trying to stitch her heart back together, Lola watching both of us with a kind of horror I recognize. It’s not over. It’ll never be over.
Sophie finally looks up, voice dead. “So what now?”
“Now you get to choose,” I say. “Who you want to be. There’s nothing left to protect. No more lies. Just us.”
She flinches at the word. Us. Like it’s a curse. Minutes pass. Lola tries to get Sophie to drink water, but she just rocks, stuck somewhere time can’t reach.
Finally, the question comes. Like a last gasp. “Did you kill him? Marcus?” I don’t answer. I just shake my head, not yes, not no. Just final. Sophie gets it. Her eyes freeze, wide and flat. “He’s not coming back,” she repeats. “Ever.”
My voice is soft, steady. “Ever. He paid for what he did to Lola, and mom.”
She sobs, and it echoes. “He killed mom… He killed mom! Oh god…”
I watch them. The last pieces of my family, all of us cracked and leaking, nothing left but pain and the promise of something different. Not better. Not yet. But different.
The sky keeps getting lighter. The news loops. My father’s name, over and over, stained forever. Sophie's shoulders shake under the blanket. Lola’s hand cradles her, soft and real.
I sit back, stare at my hands. All I’ve done. All I can’t wash away. I did what I had to. Because someone had to do it. That’s the truth, even if no one thanks me.
I watch the sun. I watch my sister break. I don’t look away.
This is the cost of freedom. Ruin, grief, the knowledge that nothing you save comes without consequence.
But it means she’s safe. It means Lola is safe, and Sophie, too, if she wants it.
I can live with being the villain, if it means the monsters stay gone. I can live with anything, as long as it’s not the old world clawing us back.