Tessa let go. She slid down the bulkhead, burying her face in her hands, sobbing as the wail of police sirens finally pierced the night air.
Maren pulled Clara to her chest. The baby stirred, opening heavy, solemn blue eyes. Maren buried her face in Clara’s pale curls, a single, shuddering breath escaping her lips.
I stood back, leaning against the leather seats, watching my ex-wife hold our daughter. I didn’t rush in. I hadn’t earned the right to that embrace. I had been the fool who let the wolves into the house; Maren was the one who had hunted them down.
The aftermath was a brutal, public reckoning.
Tessa and Grant were indicted on a staggering list of federal charges. Grant died in a prison hospital ward six months later, his body rejecting the synthetic treatments he was forced to rely on. Tessa took a plea deal for twenty years to avoid a life sentence.
