Chapter 29
LOGAN
I’m pissed at Killian.
He took advantage of a vulnerable moment, when I was at my most fragile, and now I’ve shared something I would have rather kept from him.
Yet, as angry as I am, there’s relief too.
It’s not something I can talk about with my brothers, and certainly not something I can talk about with anyone else, but I won’t let the relief cloud my judgment.
I’m still mad at him, though I have a weird way of showing it since this morning I woke him with a blowjob just so I could swallow him down.
But that’s not about him. That’s about needing something to distract me from what I’m about to do today.
After breakfast—or I guess my second breakfast—I text my driver, and at the door, I run into Jaime and Killian. Killian’s dressed in slacks, his button-down rolled up at the sleeves. “I didn’t know you had meetings this morning,” I tell him.
“You should have. I’m going with you to Recourse.”
“What the hell? No you’re not. This is something I have to do on my own.”
“I didn’t ask for your permission.”
As if I wasn’t angry enough with the guy. “I’m going on my own. I’m an adult, and I can handle my own fucking mother.”
“I never said you couldn’t, but I’m going and that’s that.”
Jaime looks like if he could somehow walk through the wall behind him, he would.
I should put up a bigger fight. I should bring down this whole damn house with my fury, but the truth is, I don’t want to do this on my own. And I definitely don’t want to bring my brothers into it, especially after all they’ve been through with that vile woman.
“Maybe better for you to get acquainted to the place you’re probably gonna end up,” I snap.
I let my driver know I won’t be needing him as Jaime fetches his car for us, and then we’re off.
I don’t talk to Killian for the first few minutes, and he gives me my space, but suddenly, it’s too much space, and I don’t like that either.
He’s done some fucked-up thing to my head, and I don’t ever want him to leave me alone again.
“Just had to put me in a bad mood, didn’t you?” I ask.
“I don’t imagine today was going to be very cheerful either way.”
He says it in that straightforward Killian manner that makes me simultaneously want to punch him and take his dick. And from experience, we could do both.
I stare out the window, intending to give him the silent treatment the whole way there, when he rests his hand atop mine. I consider pulling away, but his touch feels comforting, just like it felt comforting holding him close after I spoke about my mom last night.
It’s hard to understand how someone who’s always so detached from emotion could know what I need to feel right now, but rather than judge it, I enjoy the reprieve, knowing it won’t be so nice once I’m sitting face-to-face with my monster of a mother.
As we approach Recourse, I’m relieved to see the gates and razor wire, reminders that this place does a good job keeping my mom away from our family.
Jaime navigates through the security gate and drops us off at the main entrance.
Killian and I head through the various security checkpoints before checking in at reception.
Once I’ve finished, I turn to find Killian sitting in the lobby, scrolling on his phone.
As I settle in the chair beside him, I say, “I intend to see her on my own, and if you’re thinking of fighting me like you did to come here…”
“I don’t know that I should be around her after what you shared with me.”
I fixate on that darkness in his eyes, the way his face is set. I can tell he’s trying to beat back his demons, the ones that allowed him to terrorize Wilmore the way he did.
“I wouldn’t want you to kill her,” I say, uncertain how true that is given my conflicting emotions.
He nods. “That’s the only reason I didn’t leave Rothguard last night to come here and kill her.”
Like so many of the fucked-up ways I feel about him, I’m suddenly glad he’s here because it makes me feel safe knowing that, if I needed him to, he’d stop Mom and finish her off for me. If only he could have been there for me that fateful day, when it wasn’t so easy to survive her cruelty.
“Even though I didn’t want you to come here…thank you, Killian.”
Before he has a chance to react, a door beside reception opens, and a guard says, “Logan Wilde.”
I take a measured breath, and Killian places his hand on my thigh, squeezing gently. I give him one last glance as I brace myself for what’s to come. Not just seeing my mother, but confronting the past.
“Shout if you need me,” he says, and I nod before following the guard into a short hallway.
He escorts me into the visiting room, which looks more like an interrogation room.
Fairly bare, aside from a table and two chairs.
Windowless. And it’s cold in here, maybe sixty-four degrees.
There aren’t many rooms like this because not many people come to Recourse to check in on those who are here.
We’re outliers, my brothers and I, still keeping in touch with the woman who required such tight security to ensure our safety.
I take the chair on the side of the table opposite the door, waiting anxiously as security fetches Mom.
I keep pulling out my phone and fucking around with it to ease my discomfort before the door opens and two guards usher her in.
In a white blouse and pants, she wears a metal muzzle, Hannibal Lecter style, that wasn’t on the last time I came.
Her eyes light up when she sees me, looking like she did before the incident—aside from the muzzle, of course.
Those bright eyes that resemble Malaki’s so much are hard to bear.
One of the reasons I don’t like to see her is because they remind me of how she was before she lost her damn mind, when she was playful and fun, when she would play silly games with us and laugh…
God, that laugh. But those images are mixed with the ones of her barbaric behavior on that twisted day at Hayward, when it all went so wrong.
The tension between us thickens as she approaches. “My little Logan,” she whispers. “Come give your mamma a hug.”
Terror grips me, but I push to my feet and ask the guards, “Why is she wearing that?”
“She bit off a guard’s ear two weeks ago, so we’ve had to take extra precautions. Isn’t that right, Clara?”
“Mom…” I admonish.
She smirks, shrugging. “He moved my books and lost my place,” she says in that quiet way she has that would make one think she couldn’t possibly be a threat.
Part of what makes her so dangerous. “And I didn’t swallow it, like I was thinking of, so they could still reattach it. That was sweet of me, yes?”
“You didn’t swallow it because I forced you to cough it up,” the guard reminds her.
Her expression shifts quickly as she shoots him a nasty look. “Keep talking like that, and you should worry about your tongue.”
Oh, Mom…
Her smile perks back up as she refocuses on me. “Now come here. You haven’t seen me in all this time, and I won’t stand for you not to give me a hug.”
I oblige. She’ll be easier to talk to if I give in, but I’m cautious, tension knotting up in me as I place my arms around her.
She pushes up close against me even though I’m trying to keep a bit of distance.
My thoughts flash back to when we were on the floor, wrestling, and she was so much stronger than she seemed.
As she pulls away, she turns to one of the guards. “Can I at least have a cigarette?”
“You know we can’t let you out of your cuffs to smoke it.”
“I’ve been so good this week,” she pleads in an unassuming voice.
“Sorry, Clara. Not while you’re on probation, especially while the doctor’s still trying to get the right cocktail together.”
Mom is on a combination of antipsychotics and mood stabilizers, but she’s hard to treat. Case in point, the doctors thought she was on the right medications when she attacked our family.
She rolls her eyes. “Worth a try.”
As we get situated at the table, I feel relief, in no small part due to the muzzle giving me a sense of safety.
Despite her warm expression, my mind flashes to what I know that face can look like, to the way she thrashed about and shoved my head underwater. Something that seems so far removed from her friendly demeanor in this moment.
“When they said my son was here, I assumed it would be Wrath. It’s been too long since you paid your mother a visit. He didn’t come with you?”
Of course she would have wanted to see her favorite.
“It’s been about a year, not too long.”
She studies my face. “When I walked in, for a minute I thought you were your father. Of all your brothers, you inherited most of his features.” Her gaze wanders, as if she’s reflecting on more pleasant times in her life, when she and Dad were together.
“How do you know that?” I ask. “You haven’t seen Malaki or Masters or Rory in a long time.”
She winces, something sinister in her gaze. “You have his vindictive spirit too. But you look like you might be sick, and I have to wonder why you’re here today. Nothing’s happened to your brothers, has it?”
Given the seriousness of her question, she doesn’t seem concerned the way I’d expect a mother to be, not that I’d know what that would even look like.
“They’re all safe and well,” I say, disregarding recent events, though I’m sure Wrath will catch her up.
She grins, seeming pleased that we’re safe, making me question if I was reading her expression right at all, or if I’m just looking to find some fault within her.
“That’s great to know, Logan. I’ve been thinking how nice it would be if you all could agree to get me out of here and bring me home. I belong at Hayward, you know.”
“That won’t be happening,” I say without hesitation, and she doesn’t respond, just stares, assuring me there’s much more lurking behind her otherwise pleasant expression.
“Maybe something I can talk to Wrath about. He seems to be the only one who really cares about me these days.”