Chapter 26 #2
Sterling and Chase move into the trees on opposite sides of the clearing. Chief positions himself behind a fallen log that gives him a clear sightline to the tree. Grant stays with us, but far enough back that he isn’t immediately visible.
Pulling out binoculars from my cargo pocket, I scan the clearing, our tree, the space around it.
It’s exactly the same as it was two days ago. Massive. Ancient. The Y split clearly visible even in the dark. If I squint, I’m sure I can make out our initials carved into the bark—a promise we made when we were too young to understand what promises cost.
“Positions,” Grant says quietly, but I can’t quite get myself to move because it means leaving her alone, unprotected, exactly as we’ve so meticulously planned to do.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” I say, not to scare her, but because I’m too terrified not to say it.
She squeezes my hand once, then lets it go, and my heart twists violently in my chest. “You need to move back into the trees,” she says. “Terra has to think I’m alone.”
“I—” I scan behind every tree, every log for a second time. “I don’t think I can.”
“Valen.” Grant doesn’t move from his spot, but I know he wants me to stick to the plan.
“No.” I can’t fucking do this. “I’m not hiding while she stands out there like bait. I can’t do it.”
“The deal was that I face her alone,” she says, showing a sudden stubborn streak I’d be proud of in any other scenario. But here, it just makes me want to toss her over my shoulder and run.
“And I’m changing the deal. There are too many unknowns out here. I’ll face her with you.”
We stare at one another, each of us determined to see a different outcome. Her jaw is set in a hard, stubborn line that probably mirrors my own.
“You two done?” Sterling’s voice crackles through the earpiece. “Because you’re wasting time arguing about something that has already been decided. Valen, stand the fuck down. End of discussion.”
Roman’s air-hissed chuckle filters through next.
“Valen’s right. Something’s…off, and we don’t have time to recalibrate our plan.
Clover, if Valen being visible spooks Terra, that’s her problem.
We have a man stationed at all four corners of this property, and I’m still not comfortable sending you out there alone. ”
We’ve learned that sometimes you go with your gut instinct, the one that kicks in to keep you alive.
Clover’s head is on a swivel, seeking the danger of Roman’s premonition.
“We don’t see any threats,” Grant clarifies. “It’s just a gut feeling, but—”
“What if she doesn’t come because she sees you?”
“What if she does, Honeybee?”
She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, resignation slipping into her body language. There’s probably a healthy dose of relief too.
“Abort primary,” Roman’s voice cuts through my earpiece. He’s annoyed but not surprised. “All units going Bravo.”
I whip my head toward Grant, who shrugs. “We always have a backup plan, V. None of us truly believed you’d let your girl face her monster alone. Move.” He nods toward the tree, and while I should be pissed about their lack of confidence in my ability to stick to the mission, all I am is grateful.
Grateful that they understood the depth of my love even before I did.
Clover opens her eyes, slips her hand back into mine, and then we move silently out of the forest and toward our tree.
I position myself slightly behind Clover, close enough to reach her in half a second. Close enough to pull her behind me if something goes wrong.
Close enough to die for her, if it comes to that.
And then I sink down to a crouch, hiding myself in the shadows, facing the direction we anticipate Terra to emerge from, and wait.
“Seven fifty-five.” Roman’s countdown only ramps up the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
The woods are so quiet that my heartbeat sounds like a steel drum.
Clover’s breathing is steady beside me. Too steady. The kind of steady that comes from forcing yourself not to panic. The kind that comes from living your life five seconds at a time.
I want to reach for her hand, pull her close, tell her we can still leave, run—
“Movement.” Sterling’s voice is unnaturally even. “Northwest corner. Single target. Female. Fifties. Moving slowly.”
My limbs turn to stone.
“Do we have a visual?” Grant asks.
“Negative. Too many trees, and she knows how to stay hidden. Last sighting indicates she’s heading straight for you—our guy is closing in from the north.”
Clover’s breathing falters. Short, harsh pants hit the cool fall air like puffs of smoke.
“It’s her,” she whispers. “I feel it. The fear. It’s alive. It’s her.”
I feel it too.
The air has changed. It’s heavy and cold, like the moment before a storm breaks.
I hear her before I see her.
Her footsteps are slow. Deliberate. Crunching through the leaves with the confidence of someone who knows exactly where she’s going. Like someone who wants us to know she’s coming.
Then she steps into the clearing, the moonlight showcasing her features.
Terra Stone.
My incubator, but never a mother.
She looks harsher than her portrait at the compound. She’s older, thinner, and her dark hair is more gray than black. It’s pulled high into a severe bun. She’s wearing dark pants and a dark jacket with boots made for sport. They’re practical clothes for moving through the woods.
“Movement,” Roman whispers in my ear. “Two. Southwest quadrant. Charlie, engage.”
As if she heard Roman’s words, her eyes narrow, and a smug grin tugs at her lips.
It’s her eyes though—cold, calculating and fixed on Clover with a deranged intensity—that makes my skin crawl.
“Hello, my bloom,” she says, her voice as thick as poisoned honey. “You came.”
Clover doesn’t respond. She doesn’t move. She just stares at Terra as though she’s remembering every pain that’s ever been inflicted by her hand.
“I wasn’t sure you would,” Terra continues, moving closer. Slowly. Methodically. “I thought perhaps you’d learned to be smarter. Less naive.”
“I’ve learned a lot of things,” Clover says, and I’m so damn proud of how level her voice is. “Including that you killed Miriam.”
Terra’s smile doesn’t waver. “Is it really murder if all you do is not supply the epinephrine?” She cackles, and even the wildlife knows to run in fear.
“Miriam was weak,” she hisses. “She kept me drugged for years because she wanted me by her side and was too scared of me to send me to prison. But the thing about drugs is you eventually build a tolerance. Then all I had to do was…wait for the right moment. She thought she was protecting you, but she was only keeping you from your destiny. I simply…corrected her mistake.”
“You murdered her,” Clover accuses.
“I freed us both. Those raging cunts, Vivian and Dahlia, stole everything from me. A father, my first love, then Edward and Valen, Calla, even my future. Miriam had to die so we could be free to resume our true calling.”
Who the hell are Dahlia and Calla?
“Who’s Calla?” The question flies from Clover’s mouth like a ball of fire. She’s practically vibrating.
“Oh, my sweet, broken bloom.” Terra’s voice drips with condescension. “Calla’s not a who, she’s you.”
Terra soaks in Clover’s pain before continuing, but I have no fucking idea what’s happening.
“A scared little girl who survived a car crash that killed her parents.” The words hit their mark, covering Clover in their venom.
“I took you in. I renamed you. Reshaped you. Calla died in that car with her whore of a mother—and Clover Styx was born. My daughter, as you were always meant to be. My perfect creation.”
“She’s lost her damn marbles,” Chase groans. “I’ve heard cartoon villains sound less theatrical.”
“Shut up,” Roman hisses.
The sound that erupts from Clover is all anguish and pain. It’s grief and rage and two decades of stolen identity collapsing in on itself.
“Steady, Valen. Steady,” Roman whispers.
I’m ready to rip out my earpiece.
“You didn’t save me,” Clover chokes out. “You consumed me.”
“Oh, don’t sound so fucking weak, Clover. That’s not who I raised. The womb you grew in belonged to a stupid, lying whore. I did everything to ensure you were stronger, smarter, more capable to take on a world where we were in control of our own destiny.”
My hand twitches with the need to wrap around her throat. Terra catches the slight movement, and her gaze shifts to me for the first time, a sinister snarl curling her lips.
“You did bring him. How…touching. The lost prince returns to my kingdom.”
“The kingdom isn’t yours anymore,” I say, standing to my full height behind Clover.
“Isn’t it?” Terra spreads her arms wide. “I built this place. This forest is my playground. That tree, my homage to a better, pure, free way of life. Every inch of this property belongs to me, regardless of what that bitch aunt of yours led you to believe. You’re trespassing on hallowed ground.”
“Free for who?” Clover says, the words rumbling low in her throat. “You built a prison. There was no freedom here. Children were props, a conduit for your fucked-up beliefs. But I escaped. Valen escaped. We escaped you.”
“Did you?” Terra tilts her head at an unnatural angle that reminds me of every horror movie I’ve ever seen. “Because here you are. Standing exactly where I wanted you. In the spot you’ve always belonged.”
“I’m not here because you wanted it,” Clover says. “I’m here to end this.”
The telltale poof of guns fired with a suppressor catches my attention, and I glance around wildly.
“Shots fired,” Roman confirms. “Two men down. She’s on her own now.”
“Oh, my dear little bloom.” Terra’s laugh is eerie and terrible in its emptiness. “This is only the beginning. You think you can leave me? That you can discard me like all the others before you?”
She takes another step forward, and red dots cover her chest.
Laser sights.
Three of them.
Terra cackles, an unhinged sound, while she stares down at herself, then back at Clover with a mixture of shock, admiration, and outrage.