Bane (Sinners of Saint #4)(105)

“Take your time. Breathe,” Madison whispered into my ear.

I wielded my sword.

They couldn’t hurt me anymore.

I pointed at the three of them calmly. “They were the ones who did it.”

Villegas nodded and left the room.

I pressed a hand onto the window and smiled at them. Emery smiled back, as if he could see me. It was taunting, but it was there. I took all of him in. His brown-blond hair styled in an expensive haircut and moussed to death. His pretty blue eyes. His slender body, goody-two-shoes Polo shirt. Nolan, who looked like everything wholesome and American in the world. Henry, a WASP from hell, with his lanky frame and bony nose, looking like a classic trust fund baby. I looked at them, and they looked at me, and all they could see was black, because that’s who I was to them.

The darkness.

The stain in their history.

Not to be removed.

Not to be forgotten.

I would spread, and conquer, and be remembered, so that other women would not end up like me.

I pressed my face to the chilly glass, laughing. Bane was outside. He couldn’t be there with me when I identified them. He couldn’t see how crazy they made me, and that was a good thing. That moment of insanity was mine. Not to be shared with others. Well, other than the officers, but I was sure they’d seen worse.

“You’re not getting away with this.” I rolled my head from side to side against the glass, realizing that my closure was going to be different. It was going to be made through lawyers and courthouses and documentation. I couldn’t yell in Emery’s face and bite Nolan the way he’d bitten me, or kick Henry the way he’d kicked me.

And I was okay with that.

I turned around and asked, “Can I go now?”

They escorted me back outside to make sure I didn’t run into any of the boys or their parents. The first thing I did was collapse into my boyfriend’s arms and laugh and cry simultaneously, overwhelmed by emotions. Detective Villegas was there to stand outside the room, a smile tugging at her lips.

And I couldn’t help but feel that justice had been served.

That the princess had won.

And that somehow, she’d even gotten her prince.





A Year Later.



SLUT. THE WHORE OF BABYLON. Jezebel.

Emery, Nolan, and Henry are all in jail now, so these words no longer get tossed in my face when I walk down the street. Thirteen years each, the maximum the state of California usually gives a rapist. The judge had a lot to say about the boys’ behavior when he gave the verdict. Especially after more girls came forward.

Two they met in college.

Emery’s girlfriend, who admitted he’d forced her into doing things with him when they were together.

And Wren, who confessed they’d taken advantage of her one night, when she was too drunk to drive back home.

I say “boys,” but chronologically, they should be men.

They’d never be men.

Men don’t take without asking.

Men don’t abuse women.

Men. Don’t. Rape.

Mayra got her license revoked by the state, and she is now under investigation. Last I heard, she had to sell her house, because she was no longer able to pay her mortgage. Comes with the territory of not being able to practice your profession, I suppose.

My bank account still says that I’m a millionaire, but it is my soul that feels rich these days. My mother is somewhere in Anaheim, couch-surfing with former friends and calling me every now and again, begging for a dime or two. I have yet to touch Darren’s money, but when I do, I know what I’ll be doing with it. I will help others in a way no one helped me when I needed it most.

I talk to Detective Villegas. A lot. Together we brainstorm ideas of what to do with the money. How to make sure it ends up in good hands. But here are the things I would never use it for: Clothes. Homes. Cars. Expensive gifts.

This money has meaning. I just haven’t figured it out yet.

“Birthday pancakes!” Hannah yells from downstairs, and I grin into my pillow, cracking one eye open.

“I’m trying to watch my weight!” I call from my bedroom upstairs. Hannah only comes to work three times a week now, but I still pay her double what Pam did. Thanks, Darren.

“You have to have pancakes for your birthday; it’s a rule.”

“Well, rules are meant to broken!”

I take the stairs two at a time. I don’t expect to see Bane there, because I know he had some business downtown. Things have been hectic lately, with us sorting out our future in Todos Santos, Bane’s career as a pro surfer and instructor, and the fact that I bought into a partnership at Book-ish, the bookstore where I still work.

Bane is not there, but everyone else is.

And there are balloons. Dozens of them. A huge Happy Birthday banner hanging across the dining room. I smile at my tribe, feeling loved, and cherished, and giddy. Feeling loved.

Hannah. Gail. Sonya. Edie. Beck. Mrs. Belfort. Kacey. Ryan. Everyone I know and love.

Gail and Sonya are the first to approach me. Gail unlocks herself from her boyfriend Beck’s hug and walks over, scanning my pink PJ’s with amused mockery, and Sonya wipes the sleep from my eyes like the mother I never had.

“I thought long and hard what to get you for your birthday, and I decided I have just the thing for you.” Gail laughs.