The freezing winter wind whipped against my cheeks, but I barely felt it.

We got into Wyatt’s car, the heater blowing warm air over our hands as we waited for the engine to warm up.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I pulled it out and saw my mother’s contact name flashing on the screen.

I pressed the phone to my ear, my grip tightening.

“Sadie,” my mother’s voice hissed, shaking with an intense, bitter rage.

“What did you do to Melanie?”

“She just called me from the precinct.”

“You listen to me, you ungrateful little—”

“No, Mother,” I interrupted, my voice perfectly level.

“You listen to me.”

“The police have Melanie’s confession on tape.”

“They know about Marcus, they know about the warehouse, and they know about the money.”

There was a sharp, sudden silence on the other end of the line.

“You’re bluffing,” she whispered, though the confidence had completely drained from her voice.

“You don’t have anything.”

“We have everything,” I said.

“And by tomorrow morning, you won’t even have a place to sleep.”

I ended the call before she could utter another word.