Chapter Thirteen #2
I reach the bottom of the stairwell and freeze.
She is there.
Mara’s mother stands at the top of the stairs, a glass of red wine in her hand, the same glass she always used, the same posture, the same cold expression that makes me believe she truly is the monster she hides from everyone.
Her eyes are sharp, calculating, amused.
She looks like she is hosting a dinner party, not standing beside the men who hurt her daughter.
And then I see them.
The two men. The ones who took her. The ones who terrified her.
The ones who dragged her back into memories she never should have had.
They stand beside her mother, relaxed, confident, explaining what happened.
I hear their voices, low and smug, recounting every detail.
I see her mother’s eyes light up as they speak, as they describe what they subjected her daughter to. She smiles. She actually smiles.
My blood boils, thick and hot in my veins. My vision narrows. My pulse spikes. I round the corner, gun raised, every muscle tight, every instinct screaming. Jaxon is quick to flank me, stepping up beside me, outnumbering them, his face twisted with horror as he sees the truth for himself.
Her mother’s eyes widen when she sees us. The glass trembles in her hand. The color drains from her face. For the first time, fear strikes her features.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” I say, my voice low and cold, “don’t.”
She freezes.
The men beside her stop talking, their smug expressions faltering as they realize the situation has shifted. Jaxon steps forward, his voice shaking with fury he can barely contain. “Mom,” he says quietly, “what did you do.”
She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t blink. She doesn’t breathe.
I take another step, my pistol steady, my eyes locked on hers. “You planned this,” I say. “You orchestrated every second. You made sure Mara was alone. You made sure I was gone. You made sure those men had access.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out.
Jaxon’s voice cracks. “Tell me the truth.”
She looks at him, her own son, and for a moment I see something flicker in her eyes. Not remorse. Not guilt. Annoyance. Like he is inconveniencing her.
I feel the rage settle deeper, colder, sharper.
“You hurt her,” I say quietly. “You let them hurt her. You listened to them brag about it.”
Her breath stutters.
Jaxon steps closer, his voice trembling. “Why. Why would you do this to her. Why would you do this to me.”
She finally speaks, her voice thin and brittle. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I raise the pistol a fraction higher. “Try me.”
Her eyes flick to the gun, then back to me, and I see it. The truth. The rot. The cruelty. The reason Mara has nightmares that never fade. The reason Jaxon grew up in a house full of secrets. The reason everything broke.
She is exactly what Mara feared she was.
A monster.
She exhales, slow and deliberate, like she’s bored by the question. “Because she needed to learn.”
My grip tightens on the pistol.
“Learn what,” Jaxon demands, his voice cracking.
Her gaze slides to him, cold and dismissive. “That she doesn’t get to walk away from me. That she doesn’t get to pretend she’s better than where she came from. That she doesn’t get to rewrite her story without me in it.”
I feel the rage settle deeper, colder.
She continues, her tone almost conversational. “Mara has always been ungrateful. Always running. Always hiding. Always pretending she was a victim instead of accepting her role. I gave her everything. I shaped her. I made her valuable. And she repaid me by leaving.”
Jaxon’s breath stutters. “She left because you hurt her.”
She laughs. A soft, brittle sound. “I refined her. I made her strong. I made her desirable. I made her useful. And she threw it away.”
My blood boils, thick and hot.
She lifts her chin, eyes gleaming. “So I reminded her. I reminded her what she is. I reminded her who she belongs to. I reminded her that she cannot escape me. Not truly.”
Jaxon’s voice breaks. “You’re talking about your daughter.”
She shrugs. “Children are only useful if they serve a purpose. Mara stopped serving hers.”
I take a step forward, the pistol steady, my voice low. “You planned this. You wanted her taken.”
Her smile widens, vile and triumphant. “Of course I did. I knew you would chase her. I knew she would run straight into danger. I knew she would be alone. Vulnerable. Perfect.” She tilts her head, studying me.
“You made it easier, Kade. You always do. You think you’re protecting her, but you’re predictable.
You follow her like a dog. You leave her exposed. ”
Jaxon flinches like he’s been struck.
She continues, voice dripping with venom. “And those men. They were eager. They wanted her. They wanted to finish what was started years ago. I let them. I let them tell me everything. Every detail. Every sound she made. Every moment she broke.” Her eyes shine with sick delight. “It was beautiful.”
Jaxon’s breath catches, a strangled sound escaping him.
I raise the pistol a fraction higher. “You’re sick.”
She smiles. “I’m necessary.”
Jaxon steps beside me, his voice trembling with fury he can barely contain. “Mom. You’re done.”
Her smile falters.
I take another step, my voice quiet and lethal. “You hurt her. You broke her. You enjoyed it. And now you’re going to answer for it.”
Her eyes widen, fear finally striking her features.
She knows.
She knows this is the end.
I raise my pistol and fire a single shot, the subdued sound from the silencer only loud enough for those right here to hear it, her wine glass drops as the bullet lodges into her chest, blood seeping from the delicate neckline of her dress, her eyes droop as she staggers back, landing on the hardwood floor.
I take a step closer, my eyes shining with malice.
“I should have let her take the shot, to watch the life slip from your eyes, but this will have to do. And with your last moments, know that I will expose, disassemble, destroy everything you have built, the names on your ledger will be wiped from the face of the earth, I will destroy everything.” My tone grows darker as I speak, I reach out and press my index finger into the entry wound, a sick smile landing on my face, I press my finger in, a sharp cry of pain echoing throughout the bare halls.
“I wish you’d be alive to see it, your empire reduced to nothing but ash. But I risk you being close to her again, you don’t deserve to share oxygen with her.” I grip her face hard, wrenching her gaze to mine, I throw her head to the side.
“Burn in fucking hell.” I snarl at her as I fire another round between her eyes.
Mara
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I wake slowly, like I’m rising through thick water.
My eyelids feel heavy, my body heavier, and for a moment I don’t know where I am.
The ceiling above me is too white, too bright, too unfamiliar.
My breath catches, a small sound escaping before I can stop it.
Something feels wrong. Something feels missing. Something feels… gone.
I turn my head and see him.
Kade.
Sitting beside my bed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, watching me with that look he gets when he’s trying not to fall apart. His eyes soften the moment he sees mine open, and something inside me loosens, just a little.
“Kade,” I whisper, my voice rough, unfamiliar.
He’s beside me in an instant, his hand hovering near mine like he’s afraid to touch me too soon. “I’m here, Bunny.”
I blink, trying to piece together the fragments of whatever happened. My mind feels foggy, blurred around the edges. I search for memories and find nothing but static. My chest tightens. My throat closes. Panic curls up my spine.
“What happened,” I ask, the words trembling out of me. “Why am I here.”
He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes flicker, something dark passing through them, something heavy. He takes my hand gently, grounding me, steadying me. “You passed out,” he says softly. “You were overwhelmed. The doctors sedated you so you could rest.”
I frown, trying to reach for something in my mind that isn’t there. “I feel strange.”
“You’ve been through a lot,” he says. “Your body needed time.”
I swallow, my breath shaking. “Did someone hurt me.”
His jaw tightens. Just slightly. Just enough for me to notice. He leans closer, brushing his thumb over my knuckles. “You’re safe now. That’s what matters.”
I look at him, searching his face for answers, for truth, for anything that might explain the hollow ache in my chest. “I don’t remember anything.”
“That’s alright,” he says. “You don’t need to.”
I don’t know why, but the way he says it makes my eyes sting. I squeeze his hand, small and desperate. “Don’t leave.”
“I won’t,” he says, voice low and certain. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
I breathe out, shaky and uneven, letting the warmth of his hand anchor me. My eyelids grow heavy again, exhaustion pulling at me, but I keep my fingers wrapped around his. I don’t want to slip under without him there. I don’t want to wake alone.
He watches me, silent, protective, something fierce and broken in his eyes. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what I lost. I don’t know what he’s hiding.
He watches me, silent, protective, something fierce and broken in his eyes.
I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what I lost. I don’t know what he’s hiding.
The room feels too small, too bright, too clean, like it’s trying to scrub away something I can’t remember.
My skin prickles. My chest tightens. I feel trapped without knowing why.
I push myself upright, ignoring the way my muscles protest. “I want to go home,” I say, the words spilling out before I can think. “I don’t want to be here.”
Kade’s hand comes up instantly, steadying me. “Mara, slow down.”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I don’t want this place. I don’t want the lights. I don’t want the machines. I want your penthouse. I want our space. I want to be somewhere that feels safe.”