Page 186 of On Edge

“It was the fourth or fifth time we met, and I couldn’t stop looking at your lips. You kept asking me questions about the best way to hide a dead body, and I was so distracted, I just told you not to bother that I would come and get rid of it for you. I was scared you’d notice and never show up again.”

Outside, we can hear Pippa calling for us, her voice echoing through the empty halls, wanting to show us samples for the new flooring and lighting fixtures.

“Should we send her home?” Sage asks.

“Thank fuck for that, I thought you’d never ask.”

“Are you really okay with tearing this all down and building something new?”

“Absolutely, just one request.”

“What’s that?”

“That we keep the two-way mirror because I have plans for that room. I’m thinking red for the walls. Statement art pieces with saltire crosses, that sort of thing.”

My gorgeous girlfriend laughs, and the sound fills the room that’s held so many ghosts for so long.

“Come on,” she says, standing and offering me her hand. “Let’s at least go and see her off.”

I let her pull me to my feet, the evidence safely tucked under her arm like wild horses couldn’t drag it from her. Ben paces ahead of us, tail thumping, thinking it’s time for his walk.

And as we leave my childhood sanctuary, a dark piece of my old life, I’m not sad to see it go. If Sage wants to tear it down, let her. If she wants to paint the kitchen mint green and the dining room nutshell, she can go to town.

This house deserves a new lease of life, much like I do.

Seven swans.

Seven razors.

Seven years of revenge.

All of it fucking ends now.

EPILOGUE

SAGE

The dining room at Laine’s house is flooded with winter sunlight. I’ve set the table carefully with Laine’s mother’s tea service. There’s a roaring fire, and even Christmas music jingling in the background.

My mother sits across from me, her makeup and red dress seasonal and perfect, despite her husband’s recent suicide. Not that she would have cared. She has a boyfriend waiting for her at her apartment in London, Nicky or Nicholas, twenty years her junior. My mother loves to cause a scandal.

“The mince pies are interesting, a little tangy, but the pastry is good,” she says, taking another bite. “I’m glad you took after me with a talent for baking.”The only thing I got from hershe doesn’t need to add.

“I’m so glad you like them.” I flash a smile at her and then go over to the sideboard. When I come back, I set an open tin on the table between us. The label with the wolf logo proudly reads:Lovett & Co. Premium Dog Food - Beef & Game Blend.

“What’s that?”

“I played with the recipe a bit. Do you know that mince pies were once made with actual mincemeat? I wanted to see if I could recreate it with what I had to hand, but still make it delicious.”

“Did I just eat…”

I cock my head, still smiling. “What do you think, mum?”

The color drains from her face, and her hand trembles as she sets down her fork. “Excuse me,” she whispers, and bolts to the bathroom.

While she’s gone, I pull out a folder containing all the documents we found, along with photographs and messages from the burner phone hidden with them.

When she comes back, makeup smudged, composure utterly shattered, I beam at her.