The Price of Blood and the Cost of Standing Alone Against Family
The screen lit up with an incoming call.
It was Uncle Michael.
I let it ring, the vibration buzzing against my palm.
“He’s calling again,” Mara observed.
“He wants to clean this up,” I said.
“He wants to protect the family name.”
“But he’s not protecting me.”
The ringing stopped, only to be replaced a second later by a text notification.
*Elizabeth, we need to talk before you make a mistake you can’t undo. I am at the house with Daniel. We are waiting for you.*
I showed the screen to Mara.
Her face went pale.
“They’re already there,” she said.
“They’re waiting for me,” I corrected.
“They think I’ll come to negotiate.”
“They think they can convince me to drop the assault charges to save the family.”
“Are you going?” Mara asked.
“I have to,” I said.
“But not to negotiate.”
I gripped the phone tightly.
“I need that green folder.”
“And I need to make sure they don’t destroy it before I can get to the police.”
I turned and walked back toward the elevators, my heart pounding in my ears.