Page 78 of Rampage

With trembling fingers, I open the box to find a delicate silver locket. Inside is a tiny photograph—my mother holding an infant me, her smile radiant with love.

"She wore it every day," Eleanor says softly. "Said it kept you close to her heart."

I clasp the locket around my neck, the weight of it against my skin both unfamiliar and right. It matches the one that I kept all of these years of my mother, I have it stored in my jewelry box, no longer fearing it will be stolen from me. "Thank you," I whisper, touching it reverently. "For this. For coming. For never giving up on finding me."

"Family doesn't give up," Eleanor says firmly. "Remember that, Lily. No matter what happens, no matter how far apart we are, you are never alone again."

The next morning, Reid and I take Eleanor to the airport. The goodbye is tearful.

"Promise you'll call tomorrow?" she asks, cupping my face one last time.

"I promise," I say, leaning into her touch. "And we'll plan your next visit soon."

When she embraces Reid, whispering something in his ear that makes him nod solemnly, I feel a strange completeness, as if two separate parts of my life are joining together in perfect harmony.

We watch her disappear through security, turning back once to wave before she's swallowed by the crowd of travelers. Only when she's completely out of sight do I allow the tears to fall freely.

"She's wonderful," I say as Reid guides me back to the truck, his arm secure around my waist.

"She is," he agrees, opening my door before walking around to the driver's side. "She reminds me of you—same strength, same heart."

As we drive away from the airport, I touch the locket at my throat, feeling its weight like an anchor to a past I'm only beginning to reclaim. The photograph inside—proof that I was loved, that I belonged to someone—feels like the most precious treasure.

"What did Eleanor say to you?" I ask, curiosity finally getting the better of me. "At the airport, just now."

Reid's lips curve into a small smile, his eyes remaining on the road. "She told me to take care of her niece or answer to her." His smile widens. "And that she expects to be invited to the wedding."

Heat floods my cheeks. "Wedding? We haven't even?—"

"I know," he interrupts gently, reaching across to take my hand. "But she sees what I see, what everyone sees. Where this is heading."

My heart flutters in my chest, a mixture of anticipation and something deeper. "And where is that, exactly?"

Reid glances at me, his blue eyes intense even in that brief moment. "Forever, Lily. You and me. That's where we're heading."

The simple certainty in his voice settles over me like a promise. Not a question that needs answering now, just an inevitability that we're both walking toward, step by steady step.

"I'd like that," I admit softly.

His hand squeezes mine. "Good."

We drive in comfortable silence for a while, the future stretching before us, unknown but full of possibility. I think about Eleanor's question. Am I happy? The answer resonates through me, stronger now than even when I first gave it.

Yes. Despite everything, or perhaps because of it, I am happy. The road ahead still holds challenges—testimony, healing, learning to trust in permanence. But for the first time, I'm not facing that road alone.

I have family, both blood and chosen. I have Reid, whose love anchors me when old fears threaten to pull me under. I have a past worth reclaiming and a future worth building.

And that, I realize, as Reid's thumb traces patterns on my palm, is more than enough. It's everything I never dared to dream possible.

As we drive toward home—our home—I let myself imagine what comes next. Testifying against Frank will be difficult, but with Reid and Eleanor supporting me, I know I can face him one last time. The trauma specialist might help me process what happened, and possibly find healthier ways to carry those memories without letting them define me.

And beyond that? Maybe college courses, something I'd abandoned as an impossible fantasy. Maybe more family gatherings at the clubhouse, where leather-clad bikers and my art teacher aunt trade stories over beer and barbecue. Maybe quiet evenings on the porch with Reid, watching seasons change, building a life measured not in fear but in moments of peace.

The locket rests, a cool weight against my skin, a connection to my past. Reid's hand remains warm in mine, a promise for my future. Between them, in this perfect present moment, I find a balance I never thought possible.

"What are you thinking about?" Reid asks, glancing over as we turn onto the road leading to the cabin.

I smile, the expression coming easier now, more natural. "Everything," I answer honestly. "The past, the future. How different things look from here."

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