Three months later.
I finally kept my promise to Lily.
I took her to see the real ocean.
Not the heated, chlorine-scented imitation pool at Falcone’s estate.
The real sea.
The coast of Maine.
The wind was sharp enough to sting, and the waves crashed against the rocks, exploding into sprays of white foam.
Lily slipped off her shoes and carefully pressed her bare feet into the sand.
She crouched down and spent a long time studying the tiny shells the tide had washed ashore.
A very long time.
Then she looked up and smiled.
Not the hollow smile she had been trained to wear.
Not the empty expression carved into her by years of fear.
A real smile.
One that belonged entirely to her.
“Sera,” she said, “the ocean is salty.”
“Yeah.”
I crouched beside her.
“It isn’t sweet.”
She sou
