How can I feel this way about him and not hate myself?
“Mackenzie?”
My shoulders tense at the sound of that voice, my entire body going rigid. Slowly, I turn, facing one of the many monsters of my childhood. One of the Savages.
“Stay back!” I shoot my arm out between us, trying to keep Marcus away from me. His face softens, and he raises his hands in the air in an act of surrender.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m just here to talk, I promise.”
I eye him warily, my heart racing in my chest, trying to figure out what he could possibly be here—all the way in New York—to say. My stomach churns with fear as I glance around at the busy patrons of New York, all too busy in their own lives to realize something is amiss. When I look back at Marcus, he adopts the sincerest face a monster can muster.
“Can we sit and talk? Please?” He jerks his chin toward a small juicing shop. Against my better judgment, I nod, following him inside. The place is packed with people waiting in line for their organic drinks. That’s probably a good thing. The more people we have around to witness this, the better.
I take the seat across from him at one of the few empty tables and just stare. He’s different from the teenager I knew back in Ferndale, but as I stare at him, he’s still a lot of the same. I still see that boy, that same bully. Images come to mind, sporadic flashes of his hand clasped around my throat, threatening me with cruel words, all to keep my mouth shut.
“Did you finally quit that awful smoking habit?”
He blows out a sigh, knowing exactly what I’m referring to. I don’t know what he thinks he can say that would change my mind about him, about any of them. There’s nothing he can say that’ll make me trust him. They’re murderers, and they need to be taken care of—put in their place.
“I’m not that kid anymore, Mackenzie. I was…I was fucking scared. We all were.”
“Scared of what exactly?” I ask, spite spewing from my tone. “Scared that I’d find out the truth maybe? That you all killed my sister?”
He darts his gaze around, making sure no one heard that. “We didn’t kill your sister, Mackenzie. I did not touch her, I swear.”
“You’re a damn liar,” I start, getting up out of my seat, but he stands quickly, blocking my escape, trying to get me to stay.
“Just let me explain, dammit!”
I sit, keeping my expression blank, waiting for him to say what he needs to say, so I can get back to what I was doing.
“We know you’re publishing the piece.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “So that’s why you’re here? You guys are scared?”
“The other guys don’t know yet. Just Baz and me.”
I frown. “I’m not following.”
“Fucking Sebastian,” he grits, rubbing at the back of his neck in frustration. “Did he not explain anything to you?”
“And why would I ever believe anything he says? He’s a murderer.”
Marcus rolls his eyes. “Never mind. I can clearly see why he didn’t explain. Just listen. Whatever Vincent told you that night of the accident, whatever you think you know, it’s not the truth. Baz didn’t kill your sister. I didn’t kill your sister.”
“And what about the rest of you? Why work so hard to hide something about that night if nothing happened?”
“I didn’t say nothing happened. It’s just…God.” He scrapes a frustrated hand down his face. “The rest of the guys are hiding something, and for a long time, I thought I knew what it was, but I think it’s bigger. This is bigger than all of us. You’re going to ruin lives with that piece, Mackenzie. Baz is innocent. And deep down, you know that. He wasn’t there that night. C’mon. Use some sense.”
I glance away from him, hating that his statements are making me overthink. Those knots in my stomach grow larger, making me uncomfortable. Do I know that’s the truth, though? Why is it Baz didn’t deny it when he came to visit me? He had the chance to clear his name. Why didn’t he do it if he was innocent?
Because he’s not.
“I’m publishing it. Whatever happened that night will come out, Marcus. You guys are going to rot for what you did. Even if you weren’t the reason she took her last breath, you were still a part of it. You still covered something, hid something, and made me look like the crazy one. I can never forgive that.”
I push away from the table, my body trembling with adrenaline and emotion. I try to push his words from my mind, but they stay there, lingering at the back of my mind, making me question myself. Is this the right thing to do? Or is he just covering for them? And why was it Marcus and not Baz himself?
Is he really done with me?
I am too scared to even put a potential answer to that question.
By the time I make it to Kat’s dad’s office, I only have five minutes to spare. My palms are sweating when I’m led to their boardroom, and there’s a slight pang of discomfort radiating from my hip. Kat and Vera offered to be here with me, but I wanted to do this on my own. They’ve stopped enough of their lives for me. I need to do some things on my own, and this is one of them.
“How are you feeling about all of this, Mackenzie?” Mr. Van Der Pont asks. Kat’s father is as distinguished as they come, and he screams wealth. Everything about him, from the way he holds himself to the way he dresses. The distracting Rolex on his wrist is another dead giveaway.
I give him a wobbly smile, not trusting myself to speak. This is everything I’ve always wanted. This meeting is so monumental. A deep pit in my gut is screaming to be heard, telling me to stop and think, but I can’t. I’ve done enough thinking; I’ve had enough pain over the years to last me a lifetime.
The introductions are made swiftly once two prestigious-looking lawyers stride into the room. They eye me warily at first, probably taking in the tattered state that is still my hair. Most of my blond has already grown out, but half of my hair is still painted black. One half is natural and the other half is that deep black that I once used as a shield. There’s no denying it, I look a mess. Maybe once I get this all out of the way, I can focus on myself, just like Madison wanted. I can be happy—the me I was always meant to be.
“Ms. Wright, before we go any further, we want to make sure you know everything that is likely to transpire during this process, and well, worst-case scenario, what might happen if things don’t go according to plan.”
My stomach twists at that possibility. I didn’t take into consideration what I would do if this whole thing backfires. I’ve placed all my faith into hoping this will work.
“There’s no guarantee this piece will land any of those men in prison, or even jail, but that is the goal, to have enough of the people, the media outraged by this injustice that law enforcement officials will have no other choice but to reopen the case and look into things further. What evidence do you have besides your word?” one of the lawyers, Jameson Gomes, asks.
“Well, I have…I had her shirt, but after the accident, I lost it, and there was no sign of it anywhere. I don’t know if they went back and took care of it, or what happened.”
At their request, I explain to them the days leading up to the night of the accident. Me breaking into Zach’s house, finding the stuff in that wooden box he had hidden in his safe, using it to find the shirt. I explain the night of the accident, and they all seem riveted, listening intently, nodding and humming throughout. They even jot down notes during certain points.