SinBound Puck (Sinful Puck #4)

Prologue - Hudson

The closet smells like my mom.

Her perfume. Cigarettes. Fabric softener that never quite covered the other two.

I sit on the floor, knees pulled up, doing my best to stay still.

When she pushes me inside, the door doesn’t shut all the way. A thin line of light cuts across the floor, just enough for me to see out if I lean forward.

“Hudson,” she says right before she closes the door. Her hands are on my face, a little too tight. “You stay here. No matter what happens, you don’t come out. Do you understand me?”

“I understand.”

“Say it again.”

“I understand.”

She looks at me a moment longer, like she has more to say. Then she kisses my forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Then she shuts the door.

Almost.

I can hear them now.

Baron’s voice carries. It always does.

“You think I’m an idiot?” he’s saying.

“I didn’t do anything,” my mom answers.

Her voice sounds strange. Too careful. Like she’s trying not to let everything fall apart.

“You’ve been seeing him.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

There’s a pause.

A long one.

Then he says, “Say his name.”

I feel my stomach twist.

“I don’t…”

“Say his name.”

“…Hunter.”

Everything goes quiet after that.

I press my hand tighter over my mouth, even though I’m not making any noise.

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out?” Baron says.

“It wasn’t like that,” she says quickly. “I swear, it wasn’t.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I needed help.”

“With what?”

There’s another pause.

“With money,” she says.

“From him?”

“I didn’t go looking for him. He just—he showed up.”

“And you let him.”

“It wasn’t?—”

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing."

"What did you give him?"

"Nothing."

His voice changes then.

It gets quieter.

Worse.

"Then explain how the Iron Eagles hit that shipment the same week you suddenly needed money."

"I don't know."

"Bullshit."

"I swear to God, I don't."

"That shipment cost the Saints hundreds of thousands."

Something slams into the wall hard enough to rattle the apartment.

"Men got hurt because of that," Baron snarls. "Deals collapsed. People started asking questions."

"I didn't tell him anything."

"Then explain it to me."

"I can't explain something I didn't do."

His breathing sounds heavier now.

Closer than before.

“Then why him?”

Her answer comes out small.

“I didn’t have anyone else.”

“You had me.”

I shut my eyes tight.

This part is always bad.

“You’re not listening to me,” she says. “It wasn’t what you thought.”

“You went behind my back.”

“I was trying to fix things.”

“You embarrassed me.”

“I didn’t mean to?—”

A loud crack echoes through the room.

I flinch so hard my shoulder slams into the wall behind me.

“Stop,” she gasps. “Baron, stop.”

“You made me look weak.”

“I didn’t?—”

“You think I’m weak?”

“No.”

“Then why would you do this?”

“I didn’t do anything,” she says, but her voice is smaller now.

Then the front door opens.

I freeze.

Footsteps.

Slow. Measured.

A different voice.

“You still dragging this out?”

I know that voice, too.

Jonas Sorenson.

Baron exhales sharply. “I’m trying to find out the truth.”

Jonas doesn’t answer right away.

I picture him standing in the doorway, taking everything in.

My mother is crying.

Baron is pacing.

“So you really met with him,” Jonas says finally.

“I didn’t tell him anything.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

My mom sucks in a shaky breath.

“He didn’t get anything from me.”

“What the fuck,” Jonas mutters.

“What?” Baron snaps.

“You said she betrayed us.”

“She did.”

“Then why’s she still breathing?”

Silence.

Something ugly twists in my stomach.

“Don’t start,” Baron says.

Jonas laughs.

“What’s the matter?” he asks. “Getting soft?”

Baron says nothing.

Jonas clicks his tongue.

“Pussy.”

A pause.

It lasts long enough for me to hear my own heartbeat in my ears.

Jonas sighs, like this is all just inconvenient.

“Put the bitch down and move on,” he says. “We’ve got bigger problems.”

At first, the words don’t make sense. Not really.

I stare at the crack beneath the closet door, trying to understand what he means. But he’s already moving again.

The front door opens.

Closes.

He’s gone.

And it’s just the two of them again.

Silence fills the room.

Heavy.

Wrong.

Then Baron laughs.

But it doesn’t sound like before.

It sounds tired.

“Why’d you have to do that?” he asks.

My mom doesn’t answer right away.

“I took you in,” he says. “You and that kid. I gave you a place.”

“I didn’t ask for that.”

“You needed it.”

“I would’ve figured it out.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“I would have.”

His voice cracks a little, just for a second.

“I loved you,” he says.

Something cold spreads through me.

“Then don’t do this,” she says.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“You do.”

Baron lets out a harsh laugh.

"You still don't get it."

My mom doesn't answer.

"I could've forgiven a lot of things."

"Baron—"

"But not him."

The silence feels suffocating.

His breathing sounds uneven now.

“Say you didn’t love him.”

“I didn’t.”

“Say it again.”

“I didn’t love him.”

A pause.

“I don’t believe you.”

There’s a sudden movement.

Fast.

Too fast.

She gasps.

“Baron. Don’t.”

Something hits the wall hard.

“Please don’t?—”

Her voice cuts off.

And then—a sound.

Not like anything I’ve heard before.

I don’t think or breathe. I just move.

The closet door creaks open as I push it just a little, just enough to see.

His hand is around her throat.

She’s trying to pull it away.

Her feet are barely touching the ground.

“Baron—please?—”

The sound that comes out of her barely sounds human.

Thin.

Breaking.

Her eyes find mine.

For a second.

She shakes her head.

Just a little.

No.

Stay.

Don’t come out.

Her hand slips and falls.

Her body goes still.

He holds her there for a second longer.

Then he lets go.

She drops to the floor.

Doesn’t move.

I don’t understand.

I step out of the closet.

“Mom?” I say.

My voice sounds small. Too small.

“Mom?”

I kneel beside her, shaking her shoulder.

“Mom, wake up.”

Nothing.

“Mom,” I say again, louder. “Mom, please?—”

“She’s not waking up.”

I turn.

Baron is standing there.

He looks at me like he forgot I existed.

“What did you do?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer.

“She’s not breathing,” I say. “She’s not?—”

“Stop.”

“Do something!”

“Stop talking.”

“Do something!”

My voice breaks.

His hand comes out of nowhere.

Everything spins out of control.

Pain explodes in my head.

And then nothing.

When I wake up, everything is too bright.

Too quiet.

Somewhere, a steady, annoying beeping fills the room.

I blink, trying to focus.

My head hurts.

My throat feels tight.

“Hey,” someone says.

I turn my head slowly.

A man stands next to the bed.

I don’t know him.

“Easy,” he says. “You’re alright.”

“Where…” My voice is rough. “Where’s my mom?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

My chest tightens.

"Where is she?"

He looks at me for a long moment.

"She's gone."

The words don't make sense.

"What?"

"She's gone."

"No."

My voice cracks.

"No, she's at home."

He shakes his head.

And suddenly I know.

Before he says another word.

Before I understand all of it.

I know.

Something inside me cracks.

"I want my mom," I whisper.

The man exhales slowly.

“I’m sorry.”

Tears blur my vision.

"Where is she?"

"She's not coming back."

The room seems to tilt.

I curl in on myself, shaking.

“I want my mom,” I say again, even though somewhere deep down, I already understand.

He watches me for a moment and says, “My name’s Martin.”

I don’t care. I don’t want to know his name.

I just want my mom.

But she’s not here, and she’s not coming back.

Somewhere in the hallway, a phone starts ringing.

I don’t get how the world can keep going without her.

Even at eleven, I know nothing will ever be okay again.