By a Thread

good.”

Her face tightened with guilt, but I wasn’t finished yet. I had to get the words out. I had to know where we stood. I had to let her know that she was free from everything now—including me.

“I know how much Mab hurt you, how horribly she tortured you. We both know that none of that probably would have happened if I hadn’t been the Spider and so determined to kill Mab for murdering our family. Like it or not, I’m the reason that you got hurt.”

Memories of that horrible night flashed in Bria’s eyes, along with the emotions that went with them—rage, fear, helplessness, pain. So much pain that it took my breath away, but I kept talking.

“So every day since then, I’ve been waiting for you to tell me you’ve had enough. That you’re tired of having an assassin for a sister and that you want to go back to your old Gin- and Spider-free life. It wasn’t so bad in Ashland because of all the distractions, all the folks gunning for me. But then we came down here, and everything changed. I saw how happy being back here made you, and it only made me that much more insecure because of my fear that you’ll someday leave me behind and never look back. That was one of the reasons I was such a bitch to Callie that first night in the restaurant. I was jealous of her and her relationship with you. I was jealous of how much you loved her, when you don’t seem to feel the same way about me.”

Bria opened her mouth to protest that it wasn’t true, that she was just fine with my being an assassin, that she wasn’t thinking about getting while the getting was good, but I held up a hand, cutting her off.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I understand how hard this has been for you. It’s why Donovan and I didn’t work out. Because he couldn’t accept who and what I was and that I was okay with being an assassin, that I’m okay with being the bad guy.”

I drew in a final breath. “But I’ve been tiptoeing around you because you’re my sister, and I just can’t do that anymore. Like it or not, I’m the Spider. I’m always going to want to kill first and ask questions later. It’s just who I am, who Fletcher raised and trained me to be, just like your foster dad raised you to be a cop and follow the law. I’m your sister, and I love you, Bria. More than you’ll ever know. But if you want to stay here in Blue Marsh and pretend you never discovered that I was still alive, I’ll understand. It’s your choice, just like being an assassin is mine. But I’m not going to apologize for what I do anymore, and I’m not going to be afraid of losing your love or approval.”

The words hung in the air between us for a moment, before the wind whipped them away and carried them out across the ocean. But I’d said the words, finally voiced my worrisome thoughts, and there was no taking them back. In a way, it was like a burden had been lifted off my shoulders, just as it had been that day when Fletcher had left me in the woods. Sure, the old man had dumped me out there, but he’d also shown me that I could keep going—no matter who abandoned me or the hardships I had to face as a result of that.

Maybe I wouldn’t like what Bria would say. Maybe she’d want nothing more to do with me. Maybe she’d break my heart with harsh words. But now, at least I’d know one way or the other how she felt, and I could get on with my life accordingly.

And most of all, I could quit being afraid.

Bria stared at me for a long, long time, feelings flashing in her eyes one after another like stones skipping across the surface of a still lake. Guilt. Regret. Love. Wariness. Shame. The last emotion surprised me. What would Bria have to feel ashamed about? I was the one who killed people, not her.

“I do love you,” she finally whispered. “But you’re right. It’s been hard for me these past few months in Ashland, knowing what you are, watching what you do. It goes against everything that I know about being a cop and upholding the law. I know it wasn’t your fault that Mab tortured me, but part of me was still angry at you because it happened. So angry. Like you should have killed her before you did, even though you almost died trying to do that at her mansion before I was ever kidnapped.”

Her words hurt, like a dozen knives twisting into my heart all at once, but they weren’t unexpected. In fact, they were far kinder than what I’d thought they’d be, but I still braced myself for what was to come. I might be willing to let Bria go, but it was going to hurt all the same—maybe even more than losing her in the first place had.

This time, Bria sucked in a breath. “I’ll admit that with Mab gone I’ve thought about moving back down here and picking up my old life again. But I’m not the same person I was when I left Blue Marsh. Not after everything that’s happened to me and to you too. I might not like what you do, but you’re not going to lose me, Gin.”

“Why not?” I said, forcing the words out through the lump of emotion that clogged my throat. “What’s changed?”

Bria looked at me. “Because we came down here, and I saw how Donovan treated you. How he thought he was so much better than you, so much more righteous, and I realize that it’s the same way I’ve been treating you for months now, when you’ve done nothing but save my life over and over again. With no question, no hesitation, and nothing asked in return. Not one damn thing.”

Tears streaked down her cheeks, and her blue eyes were agonizingly bright in her face. “The truth is that I’m ashamed of myself for acting like him and most especially for taking you for granted. When we found out that Callie was in trouble, you were the first one to do anything about it. You immediately stepped up and offered to help her. If it wasn’t for you, Callie would be dead now and probably Donovan along with her. You saved her not because I asked you to and not even because she was my friend but because you saw someone who was in trouble and you realized you could help her. Maybe you are an assassin, maybe you are one of the bad guys, but you know what? I don’t give a damn anymore. You’re my sister first, and that’s all that matters to me.”

I blinked and was surprised to find hot tears sliding down my own cheeks, one after another in a torrent that I couldn’t control. She . . . she . . . understood. She actually understood who and what I was and that I would probably never change or give up being the Spider. She knew it all, and she was still here with me. All sorts of emotions surged through my heart then, but there was one that drowned out all the others— relief. Pure, sweet relief that she wasn’t going to walk out of my life, that she was going to stick with me through the good and the bad and whatever else the world threw at us.

I reached forward and wrapped my arms around Bria, and she did the same to me. We stood like that for several minutes, still and quiet, with silent sobs shaking both of our bodies. Just letting out all the fear and anger and guilt that had crept up on us both and had created this gulf between us. But we’d overcome those emotions, and I’d be damned if we’d ever grow apart like this again.

Finally, we both drew back and wiped the tears from our faces, both of us pretending not to notice that we’d been crying in the first place.

“So,” I said when I could finally speak again. “What do you say we hop into Finn’s fancy convertible and drive back to Ashland?”

Bria smiled and held out her hand to me. “Let’s go home.”

I threaded my fingers through hers and, hand in hand, we headed for the car.

29

Two weeks later, it was business as usual at the Pork Pit.

Sophia wearing her Goth gear and baking bread for the day’s sandwiches. The smells of grease and sugar flavoring the air as burgers and more sizzled on the grill. Waitresses grabbing plates and handing out food as fast as Sophia and I could dish it up. Finn, Bria, Owen, and all my other friends and family dropping by for meals. Me reading my latest book behind the counter in between lulls in the action.

Customers wondering whether or not I’d kill them for merely looking at me.

Things hadn’t changed much since I’d come back from Blue Marsh. Actually, things hadn’t changed at all. People still flocked to the Pork Pit to get a glimpse of the notorious Gin Blanco, the woman who might or might not be the Spider and who might or might not have killed Mab Monroe. Whispered rumors still followed me from one side of the restaurant to the other, and everyone froze every single time I picked up a knife of any sort to peel potatoes or slice tomatoes.

But my time in Blue Marsh had given me a different perspective on things, and now the obvious stares, rumors, and whispers didn’t bother me as much as they had before. People would think what they wanted to about