Page 196 of Joker

I fold into him and sob against his chest while Lexi cries between us and his arms close around both of us like he’d tear the whole world down before he let it touch us again.

And somewhere in the middle of all that panic and grief and relief and terror, with his cut under my hands and his body wrapped around mine and my daughter still safe in my arms by a margin so narrow it makes me physically ill to think about, the truth finally rips free.

The one I’ve been trying not to say. The one I’ve been trying not to believe because if I say it out loud, then it becomes real in a way I can’t survive pretending around anymore.

I press my face harder into Joker’s chest and whisper the words into the fabric over his heart. “He’s never going to stop.”

And the worst part?

The part that makes something cold and hopeless crack open in the center of me?

Is that for the first time since I ran,

I think we both know I’m right.

I’ve spent the last few weeks holding a line.

Watching. Anticipating. Adjusting. Reacting.

Making sure nothing slips through. Making sure nobody gets close enough to touch what’s mine.

That ends the second Raven says the words.

He’s never going to stop.

She says it into my chest, voice broken and shaking, Lexi still clutched between us like she’s the only solid thing left in the world.

And I know she’s right.

Not because I’m guessing. Because I heard him. Because I know men like him. Because there is a certain kind of sickness that doesn’t let go once it decides something belongs to it.

And Cal isn’t going to stop circling.

He isn’t going to back off because we scared him. He isn’t going to rethink his life choices and walk away from the woman he’s spent years breaking down into something easier to control. He is going to escalate. He is going to keep coming.

And the next time, he’s not going to settle for touching her wrist in a crowded store. The next time, he’s going to try to take something.

That’s the moment something in me shifts. Not loudly. Not dramatically.

Just…final.

The part of me that’s been calculating risk, adjusting security, reacting to movement on the edges goes quiet.

In its place is something colder. Simpler. Cleaner.

He doesn’t get to keep breathing.

That’s it. That’s the solution. Not more cameras. Not tighter rotations. Not better routes.

An ending.

I keep Raven and Lexi close until I know they’re steady enough to stand without shaking apart, even though every instinct I have is screaming not to let go of them at all.

Raven’s face is buried against my chest, her fingers twisted into my shirt like she thinks I might disappear if she loosens her grip.

Lexi is half crying, half hiccuping into her shoulder, Bunny crushed between us.

I press a kiss into Raven’s hair. Hard. Certain.