Page 108 of The Sweetest Revenge

"Where's Zaiden?” Mila asked, looking back at the house.

"He's going to kill her." I sidestepped Sterling to get back to the house. "And then he's going to go to jail." But he was too fast and too strong.

The gunshot ripped through the quiet neighborhood, a single, definitive crack that seemed to stop time itself. Birds scattered from a nearby tree, their panicked wings flapping in the sudden silence that followed.

"Fuck," I whispered, the word inadequate against the finality of what happened. My legs threatened to give out beneath me. It was too late. Zaiden had crossed a line he could never come back from.

Sterling's face hardened as he squared his shoulders, a soldier preparing for battle. "No matter what happened," his voice was low and steady as he pointed from the house to each of us, "we have each other's back."

The front door's hinges gave a long, agonizing creak as it opened. My lungs seized, refusing to function, my vision narrowing to the doorway where Zaiden's silhouette appeared.

One second stretched into eternity as my mind cataloged every detail: no blood on his hands, his expression unreadable, his movements measured rather than frantic. As he stepped fully into the light, the breath I'd been holding escaped in a rush that left me dizzy.

"Call the police," Zaiden mumbled, completely void of any emotion.

"Are you sure that's what you want to do, man?" Sterling's gaze flashed from the house back to him. "We can make this disappear."

"She's not dead," Zaiden said. "She's handcuffed and waiting for the police." His gaze shifted, meeting mine. "But if the police fuck this up?—"

I nodded. He didn't need to finish that sentence. I knew what he'd do if she didn't spend the rest of her life in prison.

CHAPTER47

ARIELLA

Isat wedged between Sterling and Mila on the cold metal tailgate, our shoulders touching, but no one speaking. Journey perched on the opposite side of Sterling, her face ghostly in the pulsing blue and red lights.

Dozens of police officers swarmed the front lawn like uniformed ants, their radios crackling with static and clipped codes. Twenty feet away, two officers huddled with Zaiden, heads bent toward his phone, their faces hardening as the recordings played.

It was finally over, though the metallic taste of fear still coated my tongue.

I imagined this was something that would haunt Zaiden for a long time.

Time seemed to slow as Anne emerged from the house. Two officers flanked her, one gripping each elbow, her hands cuffed behind her back. No one spoke. The only sound was the crunch of gravel under their boots as they marched her toward the waiting police car. I held my breath until the car door slammed shut behind her.

My gaze shifted to Zaiden as he approached, each step measured, controlled.

"They're charging her with attempted murder for now." He shoved his hands into his pockets, knuckles visible through the denim. "But they're reopening the investigation of Kacie's death. And the school shooting."

"Are you okay?"

I already knew the answer. His sister was his half-sister. His mother, a killer. His family, a lie. For a year, his life had crumbled piece by piece, and now, this final, devastating collapse.

"I'm fine." His voice hardened as his gaze shifted to Sterling. "Can you make sure Ariella gets home safely?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Wait, you're not coming with me?"

"No." His voice was hollow. Empty.

"I'll be home later." He paused, gaze fixed on some distant point. "I need to be alone."

I slid off Sterling's tailgate, bare feet hitting gravel. "No, you don't." My voice was steel as I stepped into his space. He stared past me, through me, his gaze fixed on nothing. "You need to be with friends. The last thing you need is to be alone with this."

"Take her home." He pivoted away.

I lunged, fingers catching his arm. "Zaiden?—"

He wrenched free. "Go home, Ariella."

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