Page 145 of Hide And Seek

The calmness in his voice made my skin crawl. I stared at him, chest tight. “That still doesn’t justify what you’ve done.”

He shrugged casually. “Maybe not to you.”

“Not to any normal person,” I snapped. “Your response to finding out that your friends murdered a little girl was to murder all of them, and you don’t see the slightest shred of hypocrisy there?”

Rhys leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Don’t pretend you can’t see the difference,” he said in a low voice. “They killed an innocent kid. I killed a bunch of child murderers.”

“That still doesn’t make any of this right,” I said, voice rising. “You should’ve just gone to the police and turned them in. And if they didn’t take you seriously because of all the money and family influence and lawyers, then you could’ve gone to the media and exposed them, along with all the corruption.”

“Is that what you and Peter would’ve done?” Rhys replied, lifting a sardonic brow. “Written a big exposé?”

“If the police wouldn’t listen to us, then yes, we would’ve found a way to publish what we knew,” I said hotly, folding my arms. “Because we were looking to hold people accountable for what happened to Carly. Looking forjustice.”

“Justice.” Rhys repeated the word slowly, as though he were testing it out. “You really think that’s how it would’ve ended?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be so naïve, Alissa. How often do you think journalists actually get justice for people?”

Heat flared in my chest. “So you think our work is pointless?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” He leaned forward, forehead creasing. “People like you do important work. You drag ugly shit into the light that powerful people desperately want buried. But it’s only half the battle, isn’t it? Because where’s the justice for those who have the money or influence to work the system?”

I opened my mouth, but he kept going.

“You know how many journalists spend years exposing horrific shit, only for the people responsible to barely suffer any real consequences?” he asked. “Their reputations take a hit for a while. Their names become toxic online. Maybe they even lose a job or disappear from public view for six months.” His eyes darkened. “But eventually, their life just… goes on.”

I didn’t respond. Just kept listening, lips pressed in a thin line.

“Look at the Panama Papers,” Rhys continued. “Massive global exposé. Journalists risked everything to uncover it, and what happened to most of the people involved? Fuck all. In fact, the only consequence of the whole thing was that the main investigative journalist got assassinated with a car bomb.”

I swallowed hard. That was true.

Rhys let out a bitter, humorless laugh and went on. “Epstein is another example. Everyone knows powerful people were connected to him. And yet somehow most of them just kept living their lives, free and clear. Didn’t they?”

I folded my arms tightly across myself. “I guess so,” I muttered.

“I know your work matters, Alissa. I’m not attacking you. I’m just saying, exposure and justice aren’t the same thing.”

I hated to admit it, but deep down, I understood the point he was making.

I thought about all the stories Peter had assigned us over the years. Corporations poisoning towns and paying fines they’d barely notice. Politicians exposed for horrific behavior who still kept their seats. Rich, famous men credibly accused of rape over and over again while their lawyers buried everything beneath settlements and NDAs and procedural delays until the public lost interest.

Rhys leaned back slightly, watching me now. “With enough money, enough influence, enough protection… people can survive almost anything,” he said. “The Legacies would’ve survived too. I just made sure they didn’t. And now, maybe Carly can rest a little easier.”

“Is that how you justify it to yourself?” I asked, tilting my head. “It’s your way of sticking up for the little guy? Makes you feel all righteous and noble?”

“Yes to the first thing, and no to the second. I don’t hold any illusions about being righteous or noble,” Rhys replied. “And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t getting anything out of this.”

I blinked, thrown for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say… I’ve had certain urges my whole life. My grandmother recognized the signs in me at an early age and helped me get it under control.”

“Your grandmother?”

He nodded. “My grandfather wasn't the only smart, successful one in the family. He married a very intelligent woman. Psychologist. And like I said, she saw what I was at a very young age and tried to help me manage it. She did what she could, but eventually she understood it couldn’t be fixed. Only controlled. Redirected.”

“Redirected how?” I asked, eyes narrowing.