Wren

“Hannah is Gwen’s daughter,” Ezra continues, voice hoarse. “Pete doesn’t know, and neither does Mitch.”

Then, he knocks back the seventh glass of whiskey, eyes red-rimmed, and jaw tight enough to hurt.

“Mitch wants me dead, Wren. And he won’t stop,” he concludes, pouring another glass.

No one speaks again.

The only sound is the slushing of whiskey, and the hard thump of my heart in my chest.

Tears roll down my cheeks, chest squeezing. “Ezra…”

He looks away ...