Landon
A shadow fell over me as I stared out at the lake, but I didn’t look up.
Nothing was there.
Since Max Dread had mentioned my mother, the flow of memories turned from a gentle stream to a flood, rushing in to clear away everything else. I couldn’t make sense of most of it, left only with a warning that hung over my head.
Glancing over my shoulder changed nothing.
The space behind me stayed empty—as it had every time I checked. But at least now, I understood why. I’d seen what had once been there.
Who had been there.
As Kingston and I stood beneath the lemon trees surrounding the lake, she’d been searching for me. Scared for me.
And what she’d seen—
I couldn’t remember what came before it. Only the sound of her voice calling out my name.
Landon!
It rang in my ears. And I’d spun around. Caught.
But in what act I wasn’t sure.
Her face had been pale white. Her eyes wide, her mouth open with the ghost of my name on her lips. She’d rushed forward, reaching us in quick strides.
I remember her nails digging into my arm.
How tightly she’d gripped me.
How terrified she’d been.
Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?
Mother, I—
Pain lanced through my head, sharp at my temple. I winced but didn’t move to apply pressure. With the memories returning faster, it did nothing.
And the pain mattered little compared to the guilt.
She’s going to die.
What do you mean?
They’re going to kill her!
Echoes of two conversations overlapped in my head. They played on a loop, each line blurring into the other.
She’s going to die!
My voice, younger and panicked, resonated with the revelation Max Dread had placed on my shoulders.
Sometimes he echoed my words exactly.
Sometimes, I heard his warning the way I remembered it.
She’s going to die, Golden Boy.
What do you mean?
My response had been skeptical at best.
But the echo…
When Kingston’s voice interlaced with mine, the sound combined in a way that felt right, but the fear in his tone—it came from somewhere else. Our bond, and our friendship, had been strong. Much stronger than I remembered.
But I didn’t know why he was so afraid.
As it had since the night in the escape room, my mind lingered on the end. How Max had informed me of a sinister plot formed behind the scenes.
Nefarious plans that led to my failure.
And with them, Desi’s death.
But each time Max’s voice echoed in my head, it brought the ghost of mine, and then Kingston’s.
They’re going to kill her!
Who? Who is going to kill who, Landon? You’re not making any sense!
My hands clenched into fists at my sides, tightening with the memory of how I’d gripped Kingston’s forearms.
We were so small then, but it barely dwarfed the intensity beneath my palms. Time couldn’t either.
Stronger in my memory, I held onto him.
I didn’t understand. I didn’t know how to make sense of it.
And for so long, I couldn’t stand it.
My mother—
As Kingston’s expression shifted in my memory, I spun away from the lake. My feet carried me as if pulled by gravity around the side of the house, but I didn’t enter the terrace.
I waited as the scent of lemon rose in the air around me.
It always bothered me.
The trees had always bothered me.
And now I knew why.
Whatever had happened to my mother—whatever had gotten her killed—it started beneath them.
With Kingston.
What do you mean?
“You!” Drake D’Arthur’s voice cut through the memory. “Where is my son?”
His growl raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
“Boy, I’m speaking to you!”
My eyes narrowed on his approach, and I tensed, my whole body primed to react instinctively. Although, which instinct, I wasn’t sure. A natural protectiveness arose each time Drake showed up, but Kingston was inside the house.
Drake would find that out soon enough.
And yet he was also with Quinn.
He’d see the alert on his phone. He’d know his father had entered the property.
Still, fear coiled in my stomach.
I trusted that instinct first, and I bought them time.
“I’m his right hand,” I drawled, voice bored as I glanced away. “Not his keeper.”
Pain shot through my temple and cheekbone as the back of Drake’s hand connected with my face.
Head snapping to the left on impact, I quickly righted it and stared back at him.
He fisted my shirt at the collar, twisting and yanking me toward him. Lifting as he pulled me to him, my toes dragged on the ground, and I jerked back from the contact with his chest.
He didn’t let me go.
I grabbed his wrist where it clutched my shirt and shoved against his body with my other arm. As hard as I could, I pushed back against him.
He didn’t flinch.
“Watch your tone with me, boy. Or you’ll live to regret it.
” Droplets of spit mixed with rage and unbridled hatred.
So much I didn’t understand, but Drake D’Arthur’s contempt for me needed no explanation.
“You won’t live long. But the short time you have left will be filled with regret if you forget where your loyalty lies. ”
“I’m his,” I gritted out the words through clenched teeth, refusing to back down.
Disdain fueled his deep laugh, one quick sound before his tone chilled. “You, him, and everyone inside these walls belong to me.”
He shoved me away with the flick of his wrist, knocking me to the ground.
I pushed my hands into the ground, trying to get up as he stepped forward.
Towering over me, Drake pressed the heel of his boot onto my chest. He forced my body back down and leaned forward.
“You’re mine, Sir Lancelot, until you’re dead.” With his face hovering above mine, he sneered down at me. “You’d do well to remember that.”