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They weren’t going to catch me. I was the motherfucking Gingerbread Man.
It was easier to confess than I thought it would be, probably because of the pitch-blackness.
“You know, this is turning out to be really anticlimactic.”
“That I can’t ignore. I can’t abide threats to my family.”
But whatever this family was right now, whatever it was going to be, and however it would turn out, it was mine. And I knew that I belonged.
