Emmy didn’t even glance up. She just raised a hand, palm out, signaling him to stop.
“Don’t talk to me right now. My brain’s stuck. Let me figure this out, then I’ll tell you.”
James couldn’t help but chuckle at how serious and a little clueless she looked. He shook his head, giving up on pushing her for answers. He steered his wheelchair back to the row of computers, his fingers gliding over the wheels. He was just about to start typing when a sharp clap rang out behind him.
“I’ve got it!” Emmy practically shouted, smacking her hands together.
James paused, then turned his chair to face her. “Got what?”
Emmy marched right over and locked eyes with him. “Jamie. Was he you, Jamie?”
James frowned, his voice low and a little rough. “Yeah. That was me.”
Emmy’s face lit up with that I-knew-it look. “Then Brian... what’s he to you?”
“My uncle.”
“That makes sense…” Emmy took a long breath, her eyes suddenly soft with pity.
James noticed the change and felt a sinking feeling in his gut. She didn’t make him wait long.
“Do you know who got you, Jamie, killed?” she asked.
James’s grip on the armrest tightened until his knuckles turned white. He knew. Of course he knew. But he fixed his gaze on Emmy, his voice tense. “You know?”
“It was Brian,” Emmy said, her voice steady and sure. “I heard it myself. That old man admitted he was the one who told the drug dealers where you were.”
She paused and her gaze grew more complicated, almost sad.
“And Tyler — yeah, your Tyler — he’s not any better. Honestly, he might even be the worst of them all.”
James’s pupils shrank. His whole body went rigid. Emmy didn’t notice. She turned away, lost in her thoughts.



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