Page 33

Kenna

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The food Zane had brought over from the bar sat uneaten on the table. Kenna took her spot between River and Kingsley. Big John sat across from her. At times, she'd catch him staring at her or River, probably trying to see something in them that would make the news easier to accept that he was an uncle to two grown women.

Zane opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of papers. As he glanced at one paper, he passed it to River, who passed it to Kenna. She, in turn, gave it to Kingsley, who handed it to Big John.

The receipt for cremating her mom and the deed to the spot on the memorial wall at the cemetery were the first things they dealt with.

"There's a death certificate with her legal name." Zane thumbed through more papers. "These look like pages out of an accountant's book. Possibly a money trail."

"Would he even have money?" asked River.

"Considering what he did for a living, I imagine he had a lot of money. But we have no record of anything yet. It all could've disappeared." Zane passed around a piece of paper. "Here's your father's birth certificate—the real one."

"Where did the name Pruitt come from?" Kenna gave Kingsley the evidence.

"I imagine it's an alias." Zane frowned, reading a paper. "You were both born at home. A home birth."

"There's the loophole." Kingsley rubbed his chin. "No hospital. No government involvement. He gave you names that weren't linked to either your mom or dad."

"Is that even legal?" asked River.

"No," answered Zane, Kingsley, and Big John together.

Kingsley rubbed her back. "Legal or not, you are officially Kenna Jade Pruitt. For now."

"It looks like everything else backs up their existence. School records. Immunization records. Dental records." Zane set a stack of papers to the side and frowned at the next paper as he read it.

Kenna inhaled deeply. It was hard not to get overwhelmed.

She struggled to understand the difference between the fictional life that was created for her and the reality that she knew. No amount of paperwork could tell her that her memories were a figment of her imagination.

"Sweetheart?" Zane palmed River's nape. "Can you handle a bit more?"

Her sister nodded.

Zane looked at Kenna. "Are you good? There's more."

"I want to hear it." She leaned forward.

"It's a letter from Burt Shay to both of you."

"Read it," said River and Kenna together.

Zane read.

"To my daughters,

If you're reading this, please know I have avenged your mother's death by killing those who killed her. If that makes me a monster, so be it. I do not regret what I have done. Lou was the love of my life. Without her, I am nothing.

Kenna, my precious girl. River, my pooksie. Forgive me."

Sometime while Zane read the letter, Kenna had covered her mouth. River buried her face in her hands. The room fell silent.

She no longer wondered if her dad was innocent or if the judge had made a terrible mistake. His confession was right there for all to see.

Yet, he was still her dad. She still loved him. Nothing, and no one, would ever stop her from loving him.

Zane cleared his throat. "There's more."

"I've included a key to a safety deposit box that has been paid for fifty years. There are three people who can open it—myself, Kenna, and River. Inside, you will find the money from the printouts and proof that Mitch Bellow, Roy Fine, Aaron Dixon, and Shaun DeFrees were responsible for killing your mother in the chance that I fail to kill them myself."

Her pulse roared in her head. She could barely follow along.

"Is that all?" Kenna held on to the edge of the table.

Zane dipped his chin. "That's everything in the envelope."

Kenna rushed from the table.

"Kenna?" said Kingsley.

She exited the room, opened the front door, and escaped the house. Escaped the truth. Escaped the pain.

Fleeing from the hurt, she stumbled over the uneven ground as she headed toward the trees. She needed to outrun the ache building in her chest, trying to squeeze the life out of her.

Her lungs seized. Black dots filled the edges of her vision.

Unable to go any further, she dropped to her knees. Her nails dug into the dirt, wanting to shake some sense into the world. Nothing she knew was real.

She was losing everyone again. Each time became more unbearable. She never asked for any of this.

Warm, strong arms wrapped around her from behind. "Sh, I've got you."

Sobs strangled her. She panicked. The air stuck in her throat.

She tried to pull away, but the embrace tightened, refusing to let her go. "Breathe, Kenna. Just Breathe," the deep voice continued, soft and soothing.

Gasping for air, she let the warmth seep into her, dissolving the walls around her. Gradually, her sobs turned to quiet sniffles. The black dots began to fade, and the world slowly came back into focus.

And the pain returned. The unrelenting sorrow that clung to her since she was a child squeezed down on her, making her hurt.

She turned slightly, recognizing the familiar scent of sandalwood and pine. It was Kingsley, always there when she needed him most.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. "It hurts too much.

"We'll get through this." Kingsley kissed her temple, his breath warm against her cheek. "Together."

She sniffed. "I never cry."

"You deserve to cry," he whispered.

The air wasn't pure enough. She couldn't get enough to stop her chest from quivering. Panting, she clung to the arms that held her. She needed her world to stop shaking.