Page 148 of Desecrated Saints
I catch the word boss being thrown in for good measure.
She’s enjoying every last second of arresting her employer.
“Love!”
“Firecracker!”
“Blackbird!”
Their voices shove that last, clinging tendril of sickness back where it belongs. I blink and take a deep breath, standing back on my own feet. Seven is grinning down at me, his thumb swiping the blood from my bottom lip.
“Nice throat-tearing skills, princess.”
I press my lips to his, letting him taste our revenge. “Learned from the best.”
He holds my hand as the rest of our family converges in the middle of a war zone. In the light of the helicopter and perfect chaos, our reunion is near delirious. I’m passed around, hugged and kissed, touched and worshipped. Four men saved my life on the rooftop hanging over us.
My debt to them is repaid.
Seven has his revenge, served cold and bloody.
There’s no fire and death this time. Incendia’s ruin comes in the form of real, tangible justice. For the first time in our lives, the world has sided with us. The truth isn’t something that many can afford, but when you’re stripped of everything, sometimes it’s all you have left.
We told ours.
We braved the world’s hatred and judgement.
We won.
CHAPTER 31
ELI
HOPE FOR THE UNDERRATED YOUTH - YUNGBLUD
I entered Blackwood with one certainty—once I stepped through those gates, I would never leave. Each psychiatric unit I inhabited over the years promised recovery and hope after what my father did to me. It took years to find the courage to even be around other people again.
Blackwood was supposed to be my last chance, a final shot at rehabilitation. I was tired. Broken. Scarred. Defeated. A lost, lonely little boy, trapped in the past and unable to move on with the life I had left.
Finding a new family was not on the agenda. I know what families do to you. I still bear the scars to prove it. Those sworn to love and protect us are often the ones most equipped to tear us to shreds, piece by fucking piece.
You never expect to be built up again.
In the darkest of times, light finds its way back in.
We stand as a united front while the cameras flash on our third news conference of the week. Brooklyn’s hand is gripping mine tight. In the month since Bancroft’s death set the world alight, our private lives have become public property; every last intimate detail unpicked and printed for the world to read.
Sending our sworn testimonies out into the world was a bold move. It’s tossed us all from the frying pan and into the fire. Yet, if we hadn’t braved that final move, we’d be dead. It was the truth that forced the government to act and realise the SCU was dirty all along.
“This is the final time we will be here before the public,” Hunter tells the reporters. “My clients have spent the last month cooperating with law enforcement. They have provided new sworn testimony to investigators. We are grateful to the SCU for reconsidering their position.”
“Is it true that you’re going to be the new head of service?” a woman asks.
He stifles an eye roll. “That is false. Sabre will be working closely with the SCU following the recent arrest and prosecution of its director. Incendia has many assets that need to be thoroughly investigated for corruption and money laundering.”
“Will you volunteer to lead that investigation?”
“Sabre remains my priority. I’m sure the government will choose an appropriate successor. We look forward to working with them for years to come.”
