Chapter 10 - The Unbroken Circle
Six months later, the autumn leaves had turned brilliant shades of amber and gold, carpeting the front lawn of the Oakridge estate in a thick, rustling blanket of red and orange.
The house no longer felt like a monument to secrets and survival. It felt warm. It felt alive.
Inside the kitchen, the scent of cinnamon apple pie filled the air. Mom sat at the dining room table, helping Jade—who was now officially a first-year nursing student—study flashcards for an upcoming anatomy exam. Jade’s scrubs were neatly pressed, her dark hair tied back, her laugh ringing out across the room as Mom jokingly corrected her pronunciation of a medical term.
I walked through the front door, shaking the crisp autumn rain from my jacket, and set my briefcase on the marble floor right where my suitcase had landed nearly a year ago.
The contrast was staggering. Back then, that suitcase had been the prelude to a nightmare. Now, it was just a piece of luggage, sitting in a home that had finally been cleansed of its shadows.
“Ryder!” Mom called out from the dining room, her voice bright and full of life. “Come in here! Jade is trying to tell me that the human femur can withstand the weight of a rhinoceros, and I told her she’s losing her mind!”
I walked into the kitchen, shedding my jacket over the back of a chair, and grinned at both of them.
“Well, Mom, considering she’s training to be a professional nurse, I’d probably trust her anatomy books over your kitchen table wisdom,” I teased, pulling out a chair and sitting down between them.
Jade rolled her eyes, laughing. “See? Mr. Carlson knows what’s up!”
Mom swatted playfully at my arm with a folded quiz sheet. “Traitor! You’re just taking her side because she makes better apple pie than you do.”
“That is an undeniable scientific fact,” I admitted, earning a triumphant high-five from Jade.
Later that evening, after Jade had packed up her books and headed back to her campus apartment for the night, and after Mom had drifted off to a peaceful, dreamless sleep in her bedroom, I walked out onto the back patio with a single glass of bourbon.
The stars were shining brilliantly through the clear Chicago night sky, far away from the smog and noise of the city.
I looked up at the tiny, imperceptible camera lens embedded discreetly beneath the eaves of the roof—the one Allison never knew was there, the one that had recorded the truth when everyone else was blind.
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I didn't feel the need to check the feed anymore. The archives were locked, the files were backed up, and the monsters had been driven out into the light.
I took a slow sip of the bourbon, listening to the gentle rustle of the autumn wind through the oak trees, and for the first time in eight long months, I felt completely, perfectly at home.
