Page 72 of Burned in Stone
“But,” Josie continues, “when I explained that Gabriel has escalated to kidnapping and assault, she agreed to push through an emergency order. She’s driving to her office now to sign the decree. Given Gabriel using his badge and your marriage to terrorize you, she’s willing to backdate it to Monday when we filed.” She checks her phone. “The court clerk is meeting her there. We should have confirmation within the hour.”
“Is that even legal?” Kya murmurs.
“It’s irregular,” Josie admits. “But judges have broad discretion in cases involving law enforcement abuse and imminent danger. Gabriel crossed a line tonight. Martinez wants to remove any legal claim he thinks he has over Mercy.”
We wait in tense silence. I stare at my coffee cup, remembering the china set Gabriel insisted we register for. Royal Albert, Old Country Roses pattern. I broke a teacup once, and he made me stand in the corner of our dining room holding the pieces in closed fists for an hour.“So you remember to be more careful with nice things.”
Twenty minutes pass. Kya refills our cups—whiskey only this time. Neither of us touches it.
I think about the teaching job I turned down because it required background checks Gabriel would have traced. The apartment with the garden I couldn’t rent because the landlord wanted references, and I had no one I trusted to vouch for me without leading Gabriel straight to my door.
Twenty-five minutes. Steel shifts at the window, checks his phone, goes back to watching.
All the normal things I couldn’t do because running meant staying invisible. Every choice weighed against the risk of him finding me.
Thirty minutes. I lift my mug and take a big, burning gulp.
But also—that first time I ate a whole pizza by myself without anyone counting slices. The tattoo I got at 2 AM just because I could. The night I danced at Devil’s until my feet blistered and no one told me I was embarrassing myself.
Cash.
Thirty-five?—
Josie’s phone buzzes.
We all freeze. She looks at the screen, expression unchanging. Then she opens the message, and her eyes scan whatever’s there.
“It’s done.” Her face breaks open, a smile taking over.
I can’t breathe. “What?”
“The decree is signed and filed. Mercy...” She looks up at me, and her voice softens. “You’re officially divorced.”
The words don’t make sense. They’re just sounds floating in the air.
“I’m...” My voice cracks. The room tilts. “I’m free?”
“You’re free, Merc,” Kya says softly, reaching for me.
Free.
Thirteen months of running. Of looking over my shoulder. Of jumping at unexpected phone calls. Of Gabriel’s name hangingover everything like a storm cloud. Of beingMercedeseven when I tried to be Mercy.
It’s over.
The sob that tears out of me doesn’t sound human. Kya’s arms come around me as I collapse into her, my whole body shaking. I’m crying so hard I can’t breathe—years of fear and control and diminishment pouring out all at once.
“It’s over,” I gasp into Kya’s shoulder. “It’s really over.”
“It’s over,” she confirms, holding me tight.
But even as relief crashes through me, terror chases right behind. Because I’m free, but Cash is still out there. Still with Gabriel. Still?—
The rumble of motorcycles slices through everything.
24
MERCY
