Page 155 of Misery

Her face is blotchy, eyes so swollen they're nearly shut.

She's wearing yesterday's clothes—the same FSU sweatshirt she's been living in since dropping out.

"Helle, what happened?"

"I'm leaving."

"What do you mean leaving?"

"Leaving. Moving. After dinner with Mom and Dad tonight." She pulls out a tissue, blows her nose. It's already red and raw from crying. "I came to say goodbye."

"What are you talking about?" I set down my brush, not caring that the paint will dry on it, ruining the expensive sable.

I move to sit beside her.

Oskar hovers in the doorway, alert, hand automatically checking for the weapon he's not carrying because we're supposed to be safe here. "You can't just leave."

"Yes, I can. I have to." Fresh tears start, rolling down cheeks already salt-stained. "Dad and Fenrir cornered me Friday. At the house. Mom was at the store. They... they interrogated me. About everyone I've ever dated, talked to, been friends with. Every person I've ever brought home or mentioned."

My stomach drops like I'm in free fall. "Why?"

"They were looking for connections. To Los Coyotes. To the leak." She laughs but it's bitter, broken, the sound of something dying. "And they found one."

"That's impossible. You don't know anyone from?—"

"Andrew." The name comes out like broken glass, each syllable cutting. "Remember Andrew? From my sociology class last year? Brown eyes, nice smile, always brought me coffee?"

I do remember.

Clean-cut guy, not MC type at all.

Wore button-downs and khakis.

Asked a lot of questions about the club life, but in that academic way, like he was studying us for anthropology.

Helle dated him for maybe two months before it fizzled out. Before Justin. Before everything went to hell.

"He was fascinated by the club," she continues, words tumbling out faster now. "Always asking questions. How things worked, who was in charge, what the dynamics were. How we moved money, how we decided on territories. I thought he was just interested in how I grew up. Like curiosity or something. Some people are fascinated by different lifestyles, right?"

"Helle..."

"I told him things. Not secrets, I didn't think they were secrets. Just... life stuff. That Dad was Road Captain. That there was tension with another group. Where we lived. Our routines." She's sobbing now, huge gulping sobs that shake her whole body. "Talked about shipment schedules because he asked about how often people traveled. I even... God, I even told him about the security at the compound. Thought I was being clever, showing how protected we were."

"You didn't know," I say, but my voice sounds hollow even to me.

"Vanir traced him. Andrew Martinez. Except that's not his real name. It's Andrés Medina. Los Coyotes prospect. Was specifically sent to the college to gather information. To find weak points." She looks at me, eyes devastated, drowning in guilt. "I'mthe leak, Elfe. I'm the reason they knew about you. The reason they could track our patterns. The reason Thiago could get so close."

The weight of it crashes over me like a wave.

My sister.

My own sister inadvertently fed information to the people who wanted to hurt me. Every casual conversation over coffee was intelligence gathering. Every date was reconnaissance.

"It's not your fault," Oskar says quietly. "You were targeted. Manipulated. He was trained for this."

"Dad doesn't see it that way." Her voice goes even smaller, like she's trying to disappear into herself. "He said I'm a disappointment. A failure. Said I betrayed the family worse than any enemy could. Said at least you were attacked, but I chose to give information to enemies."

"He said that?" Rage floods through me, hot and immediate. "Heactuallysaid that to you?"