No One Owns Me

Chapter 14 — Saint Michael’s

The road peters out to cracked tarmac, swallowed by brambles and shadow. At its end stands Saint Michael’s—huddled under the weight of dark trees, its stone walls streaked black with rain and time. The iron gates hang crookedly open, rusted through, while saplings push up through the broken path. Most windows are empty frames; the bell tower leans like it’s tired of standing.

I stare up through the windscreen. “This is where you last saw her?”

Duncan nods, his knuckles white on the dashboard. “A week after she vanished. I came every day for months. Searched every inch. Nothing. No trace.”

“Maybe you were looking for the wrong thing,” I say softly. “Maybe she was hiding where you’d never think to look.”

He doesn’t answer. There’s a faraway look in his eyes, like he’s seeing the church as it was seventeen years ago—bright, alive, full of the future he thought he’d have.

Ward cuts the engine. The Kings fan out across the churchyard, checking the tree line, the broken wall, every shadow. Drake racks the slide of his weapon once, sharp and quiet. “Stick together. No one wanders off alone.”

I open my door.

“Casey.” Duncan’s voice stops me.

I turn. “Yeah?”

“Please. Be careful.”

I give a faint, wobbly smile. “I’m always careful.”

Ward climbs out beside me. “That’s the biggest lie you’ve told all week.”

I glance at him. “Whose side are you on?”

“The one that doesn’t want you getting yourself killed.” He grins, but his eyes are serious. “Fair?”

“Fair.”

We walk toward the great oak doors. Every step feels heavier, like the ground itself is holding me back. This place is the end of every story I ever told myself about my mother. It’s where she vanished. Where the trail died. And a terrible, quiet fear whispers that I’ll walk inside and find nothing but dust and ghosts.

The doors are unlatched. I push one, and it groans loud enough to make the hairs on my arms stand up. Dust billows silver in the moonlight spilling through the broken roof. Rows of pews sit like broken teeth, splintered and rotting. The altar stands at the far end, carved stone draped in thick grey cobwebs.

“Definitely creepy,” I murmur.

Ward tilts his head. “Feels like it’s been waiting for something.”

Duncan walks ahead of us, slow, like he’s afraid the floor will crumble beneath him. He looks smaller here—older, worn thin by the weight of memory.

“Dad?” I step up beside him. “You okay?”

He nods at the altar. “She told me to meet her here. That night. She said she had to tell me something before they found her.”

“What happened?”

He swallows hard. “We heard cars. Engines cutting out. She grabbed my arm and said ‘Go. If you stay, they’ll take the girls too.’ I argued. I begged her to come with me. But she pushed me toward the back door. Said she’d follow. I ran. And I never saw her again.” His voice cracks. “I thought I was saving you. I thought I was doing what she wanted.”

For years I’d pictured him choosing to leave me. Choosing to run. Now I see it for what it was: fear, and trust, and a terrible choice between two losses. I don’t have the words to fix it. So I just reach out and squeeze his hand.

We walk to the altar. I brush dust from its surface, leaving clear streaks in the grime—until my fingers catch on something carved deep into the stone: a tiny, perfect crown.

I press it.

With a soft click, a slab of the floor beside the altar shifts downward.

Everyone freezes. Ward kneels, running a hand along the edge of the opening. “There’s a catch. Built to look like part of the altar.”

“I checked every stone,” Duncan breathes. “I never saw this.”

“Maybe it wasn’t meant to be found until now,” Ward says.

A narrow staircase descends into pitch black.

“No.” Duncan steps forward instantly. “We don’t know what’s down there.”

“We came for answers,” I say firmly. “They’re not up here.”

Ward claps Duncan on the shoulder. “She’s right. And we go together.”

Duncan sighs, but he draws his weapon and nods. “Fine. I’ll lead.”

The air grows colder the deeper we go, smelling of damp stone and old beeswax. Halfway down, warm orange light flickers from the walls—iron brackets holding torches, their flames bright and fresh.

“Someone lit these recently,” I say.

Duncan’s grip tightens on his gun. “And they knew we were coming.”

The corridor stretches straight ahead, ending at a heavy oak door. Carved deep into its surface are three names, side by side:

DE VITO

MORETTI

GRANT

I run my thumb over the last one. The door swings open without a sound.

The room beyond is small, lit by lanterns hung from the ceiling. And every inch of the walls is covered in photographs.

Mia laughing in the sun. Duncan holding a tiny bundle in the hospital. Me at five, covered in mud. Isabella at school, grinning with missing teeth. Hundreds of them—some faded, some so crisp they could have been printed yesterday.

“They’ve been watching us,” I whisper.

Ward points to one near the door: me, stepping out of the Kings’ clubhouse three days ago. Another shows Isabella standing at her front gate. Another, Duncan talking to Drake in the car park.

“Not just watching,” Ward says quietly. “Guarding.”

On the table in the centre sits a small wooden box, carved with one word: CASEY.

I lift the lid. Inside lies a silver necklace—three twisted strands, set with a tiny sapphire. I gasp. I remember this. I remember sitting on Mia’s lap, twisting the pendant around my finger, asking her what the three strands meant. Family, she’d said. Unbreakable.

Beneath it rests a folded letter. The handwriting loops soft and familiar, and my knees buckle just looking at it.

My darling Casey,

I press a hand to my mouth. Isabella steps close beside me, her shoulder pressing to mine.

If you are reading this, you have found your sister. And you have found your way here. I am so, so sorry I could not be there to see it.

Tears spill hot down my cheeks. I keep reading.

I am sorry you grew up thinking I was gone. I am sorry for every night you lay awake wondering if I loved you. But loving you meant keeping you hidden. It meant staying away, so they would never use you against me.

Duncan closes his eyes. His hand rests on the wall, like he’s steadying himself.

The Crown will tell you many lies. They will say only one of you is the true heir. They will say one of you holds the power, and the other must be cast aside. That is not true. That was never true.

I look up at Isabella. She’s crying too, her eyes wide and confused.

You are both heirs. Equal. Bound together by blood and by purpose. They separated you because an old prophecy said one would wear the Crown, and one would break it. They thought they had to choose. They thought they had to destroy half of what they were afraid to understand.

My breath catches.

They were wrong. Neither of you was made to rule alone. The Crown belongs to whoever refuses to own it. It belongs to the two of you—together.

The last word fades. Then the lanterns cut out.

Total darkness.

Isabella grabs my arm tight. Duncan’s gun clicks as he switches on the torch. Ward steps in front of us, shielding us both.

And a voice echoes from the top of the stairs—soft, warm, and so achingly familiar it makes my chest ache.

“Your mother always did know how to save the best surprise for last.”

The torch beam wavers. Lifts.

Standing in the doorway is a woman. Dark hair streaked with silver, lines around her eyes that weren’t there before, but her smile—the same smile I see in the mirror every morning.

Isabella whispers, so quiet I almost don’t hear it: “Mum?”

Mia steps forward. Her eyes lock on mine, bright with tears.

“Casey.”

Duncan’s voice breaks behind me. “Mia…”

She looks at him, then at Isabella, then back at me. For seventeen years I’ve carried grief like a stone in my chest. In that moment, it lifts.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and her voice shakes. “I’m so sorry it took so long. But I’m here now. And I’m never letting you go again.”

I move before I think. I cross the room in three steps, and suddenly I’m in her arms—real, warm, solid. Isabella is right there a second later, wrapping both of us up, and for the first time in my life, I feel completely, perfectly whole.