Page 139 of Hidden Memories

“What if Nic’s trial drags this out?” I ask, voice low.

Ava considers this, then shrugs, casual as ever. “Then we find a way to make sure it doesn’t.”

I don’t know if she means pushing through legal channels or pulling strings no one should have access to—but knowing Ava, she’s already on it.

Before I can respond, another burst of laughter draws my attention.

Across the room, Theo and Owen sit shoulder to shoulder at one of the tables, hunched over a folded piece of paper. They’re playing a game I remember from when I was a kid—each drawing part of a monster without seeing what the other has done. Kat told me it’s called Exquisite Corpse. She even knew the name of the guy who invented it.

Owen’s tongue peeks out between his lips while he focuses on his half of the drawing. Theo waits for his turn to work on their mutual project.

“Okay, your turn,” Owen says, folding the paper over to hide his work. He taps the table with exaggerated impatience. “Don’t mess it up.”

Theo smirks, grabbing the pencil. “You mean don’t make it better?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Owen shoots back, his grin lazy but amused.

Theo leans in, sketching furiously, occasionally glancing at Owen as if daring him to guess what’s taking shape beneath the folds. After a few moments, he drops the pencil and pushes the paper across the table. “Done. Dare you not to laugh.”

Owen raises an eyebrow. “Please. I’ve perfected my poker face.”

Theo rolls his eyes. “Just open it.”

Man, their banter reminds me of me and my brothers when we were young.

When Owen unfolds the paper, both boys burst into laughter. The top half of the drawing is a knight, drawn with surprising precision, his armor gleaming with intricate details. But the bottom half—Theo’s contribution—is a pair of ridiculously skinny flamingo legs, complete with knobby knees and tiny clawed feet.

Owen points at the absurd creation, choking back laughter. “This guy skipped leg day for life.”

They dissolve into fits of giggles, leaning over the table to add even more ridiculous details to their shared masterpiece. It’s the kind of pure, unfiltered joy that makes everything else in the world feel distant for a moment.

But then a quiet thought creeps in.

We’re here. We’re safe. But for how long?

Nic’s gone, but the scars he left aren’t. And just because a town feels safe doesn’t mean there aren’t cracks waiting to be pried open.

I won’t let my guard down—not yet.

I’ve spent so long fighting for this—to build a life where family isn’t just an idea but a reality. Watching Owen and Theo together, seeing how easily they connect, it’s a glimpseof that future. A future where they’re both safe, loved, and free to be kids.

I turn back to Ava, who’s now typing on her lap. “What about Nic’s trial? Any updates?”

She doesn’t look up. “It’s moving. There’s enough evidence to bury him, but the ’Ndrangheta’s higher-ups are slippery. We’re tracking movement across Europe. It’ll take time, but we’ll get them.”

Just then, Ava’s brow pinches together. She taps a key. Another. Then shakes her head slowly. “Damn…” she whispers to herself.

“What is it?”

She’s scrolling fast, speed reading on her screen. “There’s talk in some of the encrypted channels we’ve been monitoring. Someone big is nervous about what Nic’s willing to say in exchange for a deal. They’re making moves.”

The air sharpens around us. Nic is behind bars, but the men he worked for? They’re still out there.

“Making moves how?” I ask.

Ava exhales. “Let’s just say the FBI isn’t the only group interested in what Nic has to say. And not everyone wants him to keep talking.”

My hands tighten at my sides. The trial isn’t only about justice anymore. It’s a ticking bomb. I let the weight of it settle in my chest. I guess it has to get worse before it gets better.

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