La camminata verso la residenza dei King mi sembrò una marcia verso un campo di battaglia. Sistemai il tessuto ruvido della camicetta di Jenna, quella abbottonata fino al mento per nascondere i peccati di una codarda. Avevo le sue chiavi, la sua fede nuziale e un decennio di furia protettiva che mi ribolliva sotto la pelle.

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

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