My hand was still deep in my pocket.

My fingers wrapped around the cold, jagged teeth of Juliette’s car keys.

“You want to leave,” I said.

My voice sounded steady, far steadier than I felt inside.

All three of them turned to look at me.

Juliette’s eyes narrowed, her thin lips pressing into a hard line.

“Of course we want to leave,” Juliette said.

“We are clearly not welcome in this house anymore.”

“You were never guests, Juliette,” I said.

“Guests don’t treat a home like a free hotel.”

I slowly pulled my hand out of my pocket.

The brass keys clinked together, the sound sharp and bright in the quiet hallway.

Juliette’s eyes immediately locked onto them.

She took a step toward me, her designer handbag swinging against her hip.

“Give those to me,” she said, reaching out a manicured hand.

Her fingernails were painted a soft, perfect pink.

I pulled my hand back, just out of her reach.

“No,” I said.

“Annie, please,” Dan muttered, rubbing his temples. “Just let her go. I can’t do this tonight.”

“She can go,” I said, looking directly at Dan.