When the elevator doors opened, neither Shane nor Solo was surprised to see Paris standing there. Her expression crumbled the moment she saw her baby sister being wheeled into the foyer. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes, and before anyone could speak, sobs echoed through the space as Natalia stood from the wheelchair and fell into her sister's arms.
Shane watched silently as the sisters clung to each other, their embrace so tight it left marks where their nails pressed into each other's skin. Tears streamed down their faces as they hugged like it had been years since they'd last seen one another.
"I'm so sorry," Natalia finally choked out through her tears, her voice trembling as she pulled away and turned to hug their mother.
"Thank God you're okay," Celeste whispered, holding her daughter close as tears of relief streamed down her face. "I love you so much," she added, her voice cracking with emotion. For a brief moment, she feared she'd never get the chance to say those words to her ever again.
Paris wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks and glanced toward Shane and Solo. "Is she okay? Why is she in a wheelchair?" she asked, her concern shifting into unease as she studied their faces.
"Solo, can you take Natalia to the other room with Dr. Jackson?" Shane said firmly.
"I'm going too," Celeste interjected, grabbing Natalia's hand. She wasn't about to let her daughter out of her sight anytime soon.
Paris watched as her mother, Natalia, and Solo disappeared into the den with Dr. Jackson. Then, she turned back to Shane, her expression searching for answers.
"She got deep cuts on the bottoms of her feet and the backs of her knees," Shane said, his voice low. "That was their way of punishing her for trying to run." He glanced over at Paris, watching her roll her eyes, but the tears still streamed down her face.
"She said nothing else happened," he continued, trying to reassure her. "A few bruises, they barely fed her, but..."
Paris didn't miss the way his voice trailed off, or how his eyes suddenly dropped to the floor. Her chest tightened. Shane never broke eye contact—not for anything.
That wasn't like him.
"What?" she demanded, her breath hitching as her heart raced.
"I saw a needle mark on her arm," Shane said, his voice steady but low. "Looked like it only happened once, maybe. But the problem ain't the mark—it's what happened when I asked her about it. She lied. Told me it was nothin'. But I know a needle mark when I see one. So if she's lyin' about it, whatever they gave her... she must've liked it." He let the words hang in the air, giving Paris the space to put the rest together herself.
He watched as Paris closed her eyes, her bare face streaked with fresh tears. Her silence cut deeper than anything she could've said. He could see the pain in her expression and knew exactly where her mind went in that moment—straight to Deja.
"Are they dead yet?" she asked, referring to CJ, Anthony and Tony
"CJ is," Shane replied bluntly. "Anthony and Tony? They'll be dealt with tomorrow." Without waiting for a response, he made his way into the living area. His eyes landed on Dom, who was lounging on the couch. "You have any issues?"
"None at all," Dom replied, standing to his feet. "I'm about to head out."
Paris watched silently as the two exchanged words in hushed tones, low enough that she couldn't make out what they were saying. Shane walked Dom to the elevator, and when the doors closed behind him, Paris continued her questioning.
"Why not tonight?" she pressed, following Shane as he headed upstairs.
Shane stopped midway up the staircase, turning to face her with an expression that left no room for argument. "Because I said so," he said. "Your sister just got home. Go be with her." His gaze held hers for a moment before he turned back around and continued his way up the stairs, leaving her standing there with no choice but to let it go—for now.
