Chapter 43
Birdie
Oh, Brandon. That sweet boy, whose only fault is looking like the man who ruined my life, went through all this trouble to save me.
As glad as I am to see him, I’m too scared for him. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be in any danger because of me. Tristan is psychotic and ruthless. He’s much stronger and more experienced than Brandon. If they fight, Tristan will win.
“You.” Tristan doesn’t drop his gun. “Another traitor. You were working with the detective, too. You reset the jammer. You told him about the cabin.”
Brandon keeps moving until he shields my body with his. “It’s over. Drop your weapon.”
My fingers work while Brandon talks. I’ve covertly palmed one of the labia clamps while Tristan was raging.
I coax it into a sharp pin with that curved hook perfect for slipping into tight spaces and try to work the cuffs with it.
Once, I protected Brandon for my selfish reasons.
This time I’ll protect him because he doesn’t deserve to get hurt, not for me.
He has his whole life ahead of him, and I can’t bear losing another innocent soul.
This is my tragedy. If anyone needs to suffer, let it be me.
Tristan gives a hollow laugh. “You really think I’m just gonna let you take her? Save her from me?”
“Please, Mr. Morra. Don’t make things any worse.”
My hands shake as I move the clamp into the old lock, my heart in my throat. Please let it work. Please.
“Things are already at their worst.” Tristan sighs. “You really shouldn’t have come here.” He shifts to the side. He’s in my line of view now. Please don’t let him see me. “All alone.”
“Drop the weapon. This is your last warning, Morra,” Brandon says.
“Or what? You’ll shoot me? You’re a good soldier, Brandon, but you forget I trained you.
I know your tells. You’re hurt. Your shoulder is bleeding through your shirt.
Your aim is compromised. You really think you stand a chance against me?
So why don’t you drop your weapon? She’s not your mother or your sister.
I’m giving you a chance to go home to your real family in one piece.
You’re a good kid, Brandon. You have a future.
Don’t throw it away for her. Go. Get out of here and pretend you never found this place. ”
“I can’t do that.” Brandon’s gun doesn’t waver. “I’m not leaving without Mrs. Abel.”
My heart drops. Brandon has a family, a mother and a sister. They can’t lose him. They need him more than I do. He can’t be here like Tristan says. Why would he risk his life for me? Why would he…
No. No, this can’t be true.
Tristan raises his weapon. “Then you’re going to die.”
It plays out in my mind before it happens. The trajectory. The precision of Tristan’s aim. Brandon is on the floor with a hole in his skull.
“No!” My wrist breaks free a split second before Tristan points his gun at Brandon’s head. I throw myself in front of Brandon and—
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
The universe quiets to the point that I can hear my blood flowing through my veins. Everything is silent except for the slowing echo of my heartbeat and a scream I’ve heard before but didn’t listen to.
“No. Mom! Please!”
In the hotel, when I was drowning in the tub, that scream wasn’t a memory or my own. It was his. Brandon’s.
I hit the floor. Blood is oozing out of more places on my body. My breath snags in my chest. Tristan’s gun clatters down in front of me.
Brandon is on the floor, too, behind me, holding me and placing my head on his thigh. He applies pressure to my wounds, tears frozen in his eyes. “Mom, no. Why did you do that? I’ve only just found you.”
“It’s you. You found me.” A smile shakes on my lips.
“I should have known. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
” That face… He looks exactly like his dad.
I should have connected the dots much earlier.
The one time Brandon lied to me, the story about the client who had a brother in prison…
There was no client. Brandon lied because he knew about prisons from Shane.
Brandon must have found his father. He visited Shane, and my brother told him about me.
“I wish you’d told me sooner, my sweet boy. ”
“Don’t talk, Mom. Please. Save your strength. Just stay with me. MORRA, HELP ME!”
Tristan sinks to his knees. “What have you done, Reagan? What have you done?”
“I had to. You’re the Simo Hayha of your time. You don’t miss.” I force the words out, the metallic taste of blood on my tongue. “I needed to save Brandon. I needed to save my son.”
Understanding hits Tristan in the face. “That friend of yours who got pregnant at fifteen. It was you.”
I touch Brandon’s cheek with quivering fingers.
I touch my son for the first time. “I didn’t abandon you.
I loved you more than anything. I begged them to let me keep you.
” Tears burst from my eyes. “But they took you from me. They wouldn’t even let me hold you.
” They tore him out of me. Then they tied my tubes and made me barren forever. They took my only baby.
“It’s okay. Mom, please, just don’t talk. Just stay with me. I called for help. All I need is for you to stay with me.” Brandon sobs. “I love you, too.”
He loves me. My baby boy loves me.
A wild cough takes over me, and blood fills my mouth.
I don’t have much time. He needs to know everything.
He needs to understand. “I was fifteen. I couldn’t do much, but when they were gone, I tried to find you…
Nineteen years of searching databases and adoption records, of chasing false leads and dead ends. I never stopped trying.”
“I found you. I’m here. All you have to do is keep your eyes open just for a little while. Hold on for me, Mom. I’m begging you. MORRA, FUCKING HELP ME!”
“I made them pay,” I say through shallow breaths. “All of them. Mother, Shane, even Mason.”
Mason Bloom was never acting out of the goodness of his heart.
He knew about the baby right from the start, from the day Shane asked me to lie to the MC and tell them Mason was the father.
Shane had asked Mason to take the blame but make it look realistic.
It was all a charade, an act they’d agreed on. Mason said yes for a price. His colors.
He watched them rip pieces of me, took their shame and guilted me for a patch he didn’t even get.
Shane never came through, so Mason kept me close as leverage, to have his revenge. When he had it, and there was no hope of getting back in the MC, he married me to pay his bills, to keep me docile with his secret.
I didn’t know about the deal. For years, I’d thought Mason was a victim just like me.
Until I discovered he was the one who took my baby away.
When I confronted him, he told me he gave my son to a nice family in New Mexico.
I asked to see my boy, even from afar. Mason stalled.
Then I learned it was just another lie. Mason dumped my baby in front of a church like trash.
Mason might have never laid a hand on me, although I made it look like he’d smashed my bones, but he smashed what was left of my soul. He dumped my baby on the street and then shared my bed for ten years.
My vision grays at the edges. “Everyone who took you from me. I made them all pay.”
“Stop talking.” Brandon’s voice cracks. “Please stop talking. You need to save your energy. TRISTAN! I’M LOSING HER!”
The gray closes in, swallows the light, swallows everything. But I’m not afraid because the last thing I see is my baby’s face.
My hand drops. I reach out for my boy again, but my fingers don’t obey.
“You’re alive. I got to see you. I got to feel you.
That’s all that matters.” Blood bubbles up with my smile.
“You found me, and I saved you. It’s not a tragedy anymore.
I couldn’t have written it any better.” I get to die in my son’s arms. “You are my happy ending.”
“MOM!”
“I love you,” I say my last words and surrender to the darkness I’ve always belonged to.