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Jethro
 

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JACQUELINE?

Who the motherfucking hell is Jacqueline?

Nila dropped the letter. “What does she mean? She sacrificed me?” Her emotions swelled in one huge wave of question marks. “What does that mean?!”

Jacqueline.

Jacqueline.

Who the fuck is Jacqueline?

Snapping out of my trance, I pulled Nila away from the table, the box, the condemning note. “Nila, it’s okay. Don’t—”

Her black eyes met mine, wide and horror-filled. “It’s okay? How can you say that? All this time, I hated my father for letting you take me, but I just found out my mother was the one who orchestrated it? He wanted to hide me, Jethro! And she stopped him! She was supposed to protect me. Tell me how any of this is okay? I don’t understand! First, I find out my grandmother was never killed, and now, I find out I have another...what? Sister?”

My fingers pinched into her elbows, but she tore out of my hold. “No! Don’t touch me.” Her cast blurred through the air as she shoved off her sling and grabbed her hair. “What does this mean? Jacqueline? Am I supposed to know who she is? What. Does. This. Mean?”

She whirled on me. “Who is Jacqueline, Jethro? Tell me!”

I stood there, buffeted by her emotional turbulence, wishing I had the answers.

But I didn’t.

I didn’t have a fucking clue who Jacqueline was.

I spread my hands in defeat. “I wish I knew, Needle. I’m sorry. My family had yours under surveillance for decades and not once has anyone called Jacqueline come up.”

Nila breathed hard, her tears drying as anger filled her instead. Her eyes flew to the window where the barely-there outlines of our combined family stood around the wooden pyramid.

Her hands balled, pain flashing over her face from her break. “I know who will have answers.”

My heart stopped.

I took a step toward her, trying to grab her before she did anything reckless. “Nila, listen to me. Calm down. You can’t go out there like this. You can’t—”

“I can’t, can I?” She stomped forward, avoided my grasp, and scooped the box off the table. The letter crumpled inside as she slammed on the lid. “My mother just cleansed her soul by dumping decade’s worth of secrets. It’s not fair. How could she do that to me?” She sniffed, ice filling her black eyes. “I won’t let her get away with this. I want answers and I want them now.”

“Nila...don’t. Wait until later. Stop—”

She bared her teeth. “Don’t tell me what to do, Kite. She was my mother, and this is my fucked-up history. I deserve to know what she meant.”

I stumbled to grab her. “You shouldn’t, not tonight—”

Crushing the box, she glowered. “Watch me.”

Turning on her heel, she bolted from the room, leaving me standing all alone wondering what secrets we shouldn’t have uncovered.

Damn Emma.

Perhaps the tales of the dead should remain dead.

Did I do the right thing?

Had I just kept a promise to a ghost and stupidly destroyed our carefully perfect world?

I won’t let that happen.

“Nila!” I charged after her, careening down the staircase and erupting onto the grass.

Her treadmill running days gave her a good sprint, and I didn’t reach her in time.

I couldn’t stop her slamming to a halt in front of her father.

I couldn’t prevent her throwing the box in his face.

And I couldn’t halt the torrent of questions spilling from her soul.