“What would you do?” I wonder.
“Wait, you actually think she could do it?” Daya cuts in incredulously, her eyes bouncing between Sibby and me.
Grinning, I shrug a shoulder. “She would be better than Claire. And she wouldn’t do it alone. Her entire purpose in life is to better this world, is it not?”
Daya’s lips part, floundering for an objection but coming up with none. Really, anyone put in that position of power could be argued against. There’s no perfect person out there. Sibby isn’t without sin, but her intentions are pure.
Oddly, she’d be the least likely to go on a power trip or be negatively influenced.
She’s too… passionate.
A light knock on the door pulls my attention away from training with Sibby. Of course, her fist is powering into my cheek a second later, nearly sending me toppling over.
Ears ringing, I grab the side of my face and glare at her. She smiles wildly at me, and she doesn’t even need to open her stupid mouth for me to know what she’s going to say.
Never look away from your opponent.
I point at her. “Never sleep with two eyes closed, how about that?”
She giggles, and heads towards the steps while I make my way to the front door, sweating profusely and my head now pounding. It pisses me off enough that I whip open the door without bothering to look who’s outside first.
My eyes widen when I find a strange man I’ve never seen before standing next to my mother.
I gape at them, too blindsided to do much else. As always, her blonde hair is perfectly coifed with a layer of light pink lipstick brightening her lips. And she’s staring at me, waiting for me to speak, but I’m incapable.
“Hey, honey,” Mom says, smiling weakly at me.
Finally shaking myself out of the stupor, my body moves on autopilot.
Leaning forward, I wrap her in the world’s most gentle hug, wary of her wound but so fucking glad to see her. Tears spring to my eyes, blurring my vision as my sinuses burn from the effort to keep them at bay.
She pats my back. “Sweetheart, you stink.”
“Sorry,” I say, but I’m not the least bit sorry at all. Blinking back the tears, I step away.
Normally, she’d turn her nose up at me, but it stays firmly in its place. It’s relieving when I haven’t seen or talked to her since the day we brought her home over a month ago. I’ve stopped calling my father, deciding that hearing his insults wouldn’t be healing for any of us.
“Why are you here? Where’s Dad? And who are you?” I question, directing the last one towards the stranger standing next to her.
Now that I’m looking at him, I’m even more confused. Light brown hair, the top messy and unruly, pretty blue eyes, and a killer smile. Almost as killer as his body. He can’t be any older than I am, yet he carries himself with refined confidence—something most men my age don’t possess.
An odd feeling prickles at my senses, though I can’t discern exactly what.
All I know is he’s fucking hot. What the hell is my mother doing with him?
“Kraven,” he answers with a smirk.
“Oh my God, is this your boyfriend?” I ask, eyes wide.
“Adeline Reilly, don’t be inappropriate. Of course, he isn’t. He’s been helping take care of me while I recover. Now let me in, I have ten seconds before I fall at your doorstep and don’t get up again.”
Dramatic as ever, I see.
Kraven smiles, dimples appearing as he grabs my mother’s arm and helps her into the house and toward the red leather couch. Dumbly, I watch them pass by, wondering how the hell she convinced my father to let someone else nurse her back to health. Especially someone who looks like… that.
And that may not be her boyfriend, but with the way her cheeks redden, she’s definitely not unaffected by him. In all honesty, if my mother ended up with a younger man… good for her.
I’d be proud.
Snapping myself out of it, I close the front door and take a seat across from her. Sibby is probably upstairs showering, and Zade is currently tracking down a dark web user who has a knack for torturing children on a live video feed.
When I’m not training with Sibby, I’m working on my new story. I’ve missed writing, and it’s served as an excellent escape now that Claire is finally dead. Pretty soon, I’ll be done with my first book since being home again, and I wholeheartedly believe it’s my best writing to date.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her, glancing at Kraven.
“Irritated,” she huffs. “Your father is driving me nuts.”