Here were the facts, laid out like puzzle pieces I couldn’t fit together:
Craig had tried to run us off the road.
Craig had a gun in his trunk, and the police thought it matched the bullets Williams had collected.
Craig already had a record.
The police asked me everything. About the shooting. About Craig. About Kiara. Each question made my chest tighter. Each answer felt like walking on glass.
When it was over, they drove me back to Lachlan House. I wanted nothing more than to lock my door and sleep for a year.
Instead, the front door flew open before Clara and I even reached the porch.
Luca stormed out, his boots pounding against the steps. He stopped short when he saw us, but his eyes were sharp and furious.
“You want to tell me,” he said to Clara, his voice a low growl edged wit
