ELENA POV
We holed up in a dingy motel on the outskirts of the city. The kind of place that took cash and didn't ask questions.
Two rooms. Mom and I in one, Damien and Adrien in the other.
Damien had ditched our phones too easy to trace. But he'd kept one burner, and we huddled around it, watching the news coverage on the tiny screen.
For the first few hours, it felt like we were winning.
Every major network was running the story. Social media was exploding. #BrightonExposed. #ArrestBrighton. The evidence was everywhere too widespread to suppress.
"Public opinion is turning," Damien added, checking social media. "The recordings are going viral. People are calling for investigations."
Mom sat on the bed, watching silently. She looked exhausted but also... lighter. Like a weight had been lifted.
"I never thought I'd see this day," she said quietly. "After eight years of hiding. Of being afraid. Finally, people know the truth."
