When I do, the tension drains out of my body with a swiftness that takes my breath away. “What are you doing here?! You scared the crap out of me, Mom!”
She thrusts her finger against her lips, giving me a warning look, which is when my door knob rattles. Both of our gazes dart to the movement, but she holds out her hand, giving me a sharp look.
There’s a soft, hesitant knock, and then Killian’s muffled voice. “Come on. Seriously?” The doorknob gives another rattle. “Story? We’re doing this shit again?” His voice is pitched in that flat, harsh way that makes me imagine his nostrils are flaring in annoyance.
I open my mouth to answer him, but the look in my mom’s eyes stops me short, and by the time I realize something is seriously wrong here, his heavy footsteps are already retreating. “What the hell is going on?!” I try to keep my shout to a whisper, because none of this looks good. My mother, hiding in my room, holding my gun.
The Lords would get the wrong idea.
“We need to have a talk,” she says, holding her palms out in a placating gesture. “Just have a—”
There’s a crashing bang, the thud so powerful that the walls rattle with the force of it. I jump violently, every nerve ending in my body coiled tight and frantic at the sound of an angry, pained roar muffled through the thickness of the walls.
“Killian,” I breathe, lunging for the door.
But my mom gets there first, blocking me. “Wait!” she insists, grabbing my shoulders. From this vantage, I get a good look at her eyes—wide, filled with a strange mania. “Just wait, my little storybook.” She looks to the side, as if she’s waiting to hear something.
But there’s nothing.
No angry noises.
No sound of struggle.
The ensuing silence might be the loudest thing I’ve ever heard.
“There it is.” It makes her face split into a slow, relieved grin. “I’m here to fix everything.” She reaches for the gun again, sliding her finger over the curve of the trigger.
I stumble back, horror rising thick in my chest. “What are you doing?”
She gives me a patient look, following me further into the room. “Baby, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to save you.” Her eyes hold mine, swimming with some unfathomable intensity. “That happy ending we’ve been looking for? It’s finally here.”
“Oh my god,” I breathe, clutching my stomach. She’s losing it. “Mom, I know you’ve had a hard week. Losing Daniel was devastating, but—”
She darts toward me, eyes wild. “It wasn’t devastating. It went off without a hitch!” Her sharp laugh sends a chill up my spine. “I wasn’t even expecting that fire. Can you believe the luck?”
My face falls as I stumble back, claves bumping into the chair at my vanity. “Mom. Mom. What are you saying?”
She dips her chin, staring at me. “You know what I’m saying, Story.”
Of course I know what she’s saying. I just wish I didn’t. “You killed him.” I whisper the words, as if I’m afraid to put form to them.
She sets the gun on the edge of my dresser, removing a black glove. “It was supposed to land on Killian, you know. But then the two of you went to that goddamn awards show.” Her mouth curves into an irritated slant. “Don’t worry, I don’t blame you for that. That’s why it’s always important to have a plan B.”
“This is plan B?” I exclaim, making a wide, expansive gesture. “Breaking into the Lords’ house in the middle of the night? Mom, this is crazy! The guys will be here soon.” But even as I say it, I know it’s not true. It’s been too long. Dimitri leaving the room and not coming back. Tristian vanishing when I need something. And Killian…I know that was his yell out in the hall. “I need you to stop and explain what’s going on. Now.”
“I’ve been wanting to,” she says, eyes pleading as she removes her other glove. “Every day, I’d have to talk myself down from spilling it all. It’s been killing me to keep so many secrets from you.” Her eyes roam over my dresser, hand reaching out to straighten the objects I’d knocked over a few minutes before. Her fingers linger over the glittery skull, a darkness crossing her features. “But you know all about secrets, don’t you?”
Swallowing, I look toward the window, wondering if I’m really doing this. Am I really looking for a way to escape my own mother? “What do you mean?”