A week later, I drove back to the outskirts of Riverside. I parked the car a mile away and walked through the woods to the perimeter of Silver Pines.
Jenna was waiting by the service entrance, wearing the gray sweater. She looked different. The quiet of the facility, the regular meals, and the safety of the walls had given her eyes a spark they hadn't seen in years.
"Is it over?" she asked, her voice steady.
"He’s in jail, Jenna. His mother and sister are gone. The house is in your name, and I’ve cleared out his 'stash.' You and Mia have enough to disappear and start over."
I handed her the keys and the burner phone I’d bought.
"What about you, Ave?" she whispered, looking at the facility. "You’re going back in there?"
I looked at the white walls. I thought about the fire inside me. It wasn't rage anymore. It was peace. I had done what I was born to do: I had protected my twin.
"I’m not going back to be a prisoner," I said with a smirk. "I’m going back to finish my 'rehabilitation.' My lawyers say that with my 'recent progress,' I’ll be out legally in six months. And when I am, I’ll find you."
We hugged—two halves of the same soul, finally whole.
Jenna si diresse verso l'auto, verso Mia, verso una vita in cui non avrebbe mai più dovuto abbottonarsi il colletto fino al mento. Mi voltai e mi diressi verso i cancelli, zoppicando leggermente per imitare il fascicolo di "Avery", con un sorriso soddisfatto sul volto.
Il mondo pensava che Avery Collins fosse la più pericolosa. Avevano ragione. Ma non si sono mai resi conto che la cosa più pericolosa al mondo non è un mostro, bensì una sorella che non ha più nulla da perdere.
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