Shame stung as he read. But underneath it ran a steady current of something he had not felt in two years—relief. The truth was ugly, but also real. Adam had chosen badly. He had also been lied to and used as a shield by someone who was scared.
Liam testified once, under heavy guard, in a courtroom that smelled of old paper and nerves. As an informant, he cut a deal for himself—a reduced sentence in return for everything he knew. His hands shook, but he refused a new identity. “I hid enough from them,” he said. “I’m done hiding for myself.”