"My parents died because of your mother."
Damien dropped the file on the table. Photos spilled out — old, grainy, but clear enough. Celeste’s mother, younger, standing over two bodies.
"What is this?" Celeste whispered.
"The truth. The real one. Not the story she fed you."
They were in a cheap motel room. Run down. Safe for now. After Liam’s death, they’d scattered and regrouped here.
Celeste picked up a photo and stared. Her mother’s face — cold, a gun in her hand.
"When was this taken?" she asked.
"Twenty years ago. The night my parents were executed."
"Executed. Not killed in a war."
"No. Murdered. In cold blood, while they slept."
Celeste’s hands shook. She set the photo down. "How did you get these?"
"I’ve been digging for years. Finally found someone who was there. They se
