Page 46 of North

North

The drive home was suffocating.

The air inside the car felt thick, the low hum of the engine drowned out by Connor’s incessant chatter. He sat in the backseat, practically vibrating with excitement, replaying the events of the night like some highlight reel of a game-winning play.

“Man, that was perfect,” he cackled, drumming his hands against the back of Victor’s seat. “Did you see her face? She looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole. Classic.”

I gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My jaw clenched, muscles locking as Connor’s words clawed at my skull. I should’ve told him to shut the fuck up. Should’ve told him it wasn’t funny. But my throat felt like it was filled with cement, heavy and unmovable.

“Yeah,” I muttered instead, my voice flat, empty.

Victor, sitting in the passenger seat, finally spoke, his tone clipped with irritation. “Connor, shut up. No one wants to hear your play-by-play.”

Connor snorted, leaning forward between us. “Oh, come on, Vic. You’re acting like you didn’t enjoy it. What’s the deal? Feeling sorry for the murderer’s daughter?” He scoffed. “Jesus, man. It’s Quinn fucking Harley. She had it coming.”

Something inside me snapped.

I pressed harder on the gas, the car jerking slightly forward, making Connor stumble back into his seat with a curse. For a moment, there was silence, then he turned to me with a glare. “Man, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You! You keep going on and fucking on about it. You got the revenge you wanted for Aiden, so shut the fuck up,” I snapped, but that was wrong. It was him and Quinn fucking Harley. Connor’s mouth dropped open, his eyes sharp and furious—I couldn’t have cared less. “I fucking mean it, Connor. Not another fucking word.”

“Seriously?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes at me. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown conscious all of a sudden, North. You could’ve stopped this at any point, but you didn’t.”

The words made my stomach turn. The way Connor said it like she was some inhuman thing that deserved whatever we threw at her. But the worst part? The part that made my chest ache and my fingers tighten around the wheel until they ached?

I had thought the same thing.

Or at least, I had tried to.

Tried to remind myself who she was. Who her father was. Why was this supposed to be justice? Why was she just a means to an end?

So why the fuck did it feel like a betrayal?

We pulled into the driveway, the house looming in front of us like something out of a nightmare. The sight of Evie’s car parked in its usual spot sent a jolt of unease through my chest.

Connor stretched, yawning as he pushed open the door. “Let’s see if there’s any fallout. Maybe she left a trail of tissues or something.”

Victor shot him a glare. “You’re an idiot.”

I said nothing, stepping out of the car, my stomach twisting tighter with every step toward the house. I didn’t want to go inside. I didn’t want to face what was waiting for me.

But I had no choice.

***

The house was silent.

Too silent.

Connor wandered in first, immediately heading toward the kitchen with a stupid grin on his face. “Quinn?” he called in a mocking tone. “Are you hiding in shame?”

My teeth ground together. My nails dug into my palms. I told myself it didn’t matter. Told myself I didn’t care.

But I did.

Victor sighed, leaning against the counter as he scanned the empty room. “She’s probably waiting to rip into you. Can’t say you don’t deserve it.” He tipped his head, and my stomach tightened at the sight of Evie’s bag on the table. My sister was here. She knew.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to push past the tension coiling in my gut.

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