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I catch her wrist. "The truth gets people killed."

"So does silence!" She yanks free. "How many others have the Keans murdered while everyone looked the other way? How many more Marshalls are out there, covering up their crimes?"

"Lucy—”

"No." She cuts me off. "You don't get to 'Lucy' me. Not after lying to my face for weeks. Not after…" Her voice cracks. "I trusted you."

The guilt hits like a sucker punch. "I know. And I'm sorry. But right now, staying alive is more important than your story."

"Says the man who just murdered someone."

"To protect you!"

"I didn't ask for your protection!" She's trembling now, but whether from fear or rage, I can't tell. "I didn't ask for any of this."

"Well, you've got it anyway." I rake a hand through my hair. "So here are the rules. No phones. No internet. No contact with the outside world. You don't leave without me, and you sure as hell don't try running to the cops."

"Or what? You'll kill me too?"

The accusation stings worse than I expected. "I'm trying to keep you alive, damn it. Why can't you understand that?"

"Because I don't know who you are anymore." Her voice drops to a whisper. "I'm not sure I ever did. You think you’re a hero, but you’re not. You’re just like them.”

Anger powers me. I pull the list she’d created with the victims of the fire from my pocket. “See this?” I jab at the top names. “That was my mother. When we were kids, she’d sing us to sleep, rock us when we were sick. This is my father. He taught us to play football.”

Her brow furrows as if she doesn’t understand what I’m saying.

“This is Megan, who shouldn’t have been there that night, but Ash snuck her in because he loved her and wanted to marry her. Ash hasneverrecovered from her death.”

Lucy’s face softens. Am I getting through?

“Mrs. Cramer was our cook. She taught me to make kickass pancakes, which you would have known about if you hadn’t run off the other night.”

The memories flood back from that night. "Sarah Klein. The housekeeper. She was planning her daughter’s wedding. Had the dress picked out and everything. Used to let me and my brothers sneak candy." I look up at Lucy, meeting her eyes. "These weren't characters in some story you're chasing. They were real people. People who laughed and loved and lived. People who deserve justice, not to be forgotten in some police cover-up while the men responsible built their empire on their ashes. Not treated with disdain or disrespect… like they deserved to die."

She swallows, and I wonder if I’m getting through. Surely, she can understand the pain and anger even if she wouldn’t go as far as me and my brothers would.

The paper crumples slightly in my grip. "So yes, I killed Marshall. Because I remember how he used to ruffle my hair and call me 'sport', and then he turned around and arranged my family’s murder.”

“And that justifies?—”

"And what about you?" I snarl, the pain of her rejection twisting into something uglier. "Don’t act all innocent with me. Your only interest in me was for your precious story.”

"At least I was honest about what I wanted," Lucy snaps back. "I never hid who I was or what I was after. You knew from the moment we met that I was investigating the Keans."

My jaw clenches. "And you don’t care who gets hurt in the process, do you? Just another ambitious reporter chasing her big break."

"Don't you dare." Her eyes flash. "I wanted justice. I wanted the truth. Which is more than I can say for you. I trusted you," she whispers. “And the whole time, you were lying to my face."

"You want to talk about trust?" I slam my palm against the wall beside her head, making her jump. "How many times have I told you not to do stupid things like follow Kean men into an alley? Not to reveal who you are? You can’t help yourself. If I wasn’t there to protect you?—”

“I never asked for your protection?—”

“The only reason you’re alive right now is because of my protection.” I jerk away, anger and frustration coursing madly through me. I take a breath and turn to face her. “If I didn’t follow you to the alley that night, you’d have been raped and killed and disappeared off the face of the earth. And I’d still be Flynn Tine, an Ifrinn hiding in plain sight, learning about the Kean operation, and my brothers wouldn’t be pissed at me. Is that what I should have done? Let you be killed? It sure would have saved me this hassle.”

Her jaw ticks because she knows she can’t deny any of that. She’d be dead without me.

I take another calming breath and step toward her, ignoring how she tenses as I do. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’ll protect you?—”