“Mom?”
Relief washed over her face before she rushed forward, pulling me into an embrace so tight I could feel her heartbeat.
“My baby,” she whispered against my braids.
She released me and held me at arm’s length, her eyes searching my face and body in the dim light.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, still struggling to process her presence.
“I’ve come to save you,” she said firmly, eyeing the Christakis family with undisguised suspicion.
“Save me? From what?”
“Kat called me, Tia,” she said, her voice hardening. “She told me everything.”
My heart pounded so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it. The night air suddenly felt thick, difficult to breathe.
What could the witch have possibly told my mother?
“What did she say?” I asked tentatively.
“It doesn’t matter what she said.” My mother’s grip on my shoulders tightened. “All that matters is I’m here now and I’ll take you home.”
Kayla thankfully stepped forward, hands outstretched. “Hi there, I’m Kayla Christakis,” she said gently. “And this is Domna, Irida, and Dimitrios Christakis.”
My mother acknowledged no one, her eyes fixed solely on me. “Let’s go,” she said.
“Mom, these people have been kind to me,” I pleaded, acutely aware of how this looked. “Please be nice.”
“You expect me to be friendly with the people who’ve kept you hostage?”
“What?” I gasped, stunned.
“Your daughter is safe here,” Dimitrios interjected. “She is not being held captive.”
The glare my mother shot him could have shattered glass. She folded her arms, drawing herself up to her full five feet four inches.
“Let me be the judge of that.” She turned back to me, her voice softening. “Kat called me thirty minutes—” she paused, “I mean this morning to tell me you’re being held here against your will by your employer. I came as soon as I heard.”
I caught the slip, but was too overwhelmed to process it. “Mom,” I said, reaching for her hand, “why don’t we go inside? There’s a lot I need to tell you.”
Mom raised her hand to my forehead. “Are you feeling okay? Do you think it’s Stockholm Syndrome?”
“Mommm!” I whispered urgently, conscious of the Christakis family watching our exchange. “I’m fine. Please, can we go inside?” The air had grown cooler, raising goosebumps along my arms.
She studied me intently before she finally nodded. But she turned back to the Christakis family.
“Just so we’re clear,” she announced, “I know kung fu and have several pointy objects on my person. So nobody try anything.”
Dimitrios’s unexpected booming laugh broke the tension, while Irida leaned toward Domna, whispering something that made them both smile approvingly at my mother.
In the receiving room, I gestured for my mother to sit on one of the plush sofas, but she remained standing, arms crossed, until I dropped onto the cushions first. No sooner had she settled than I sprang back up, pacing across the floor.
“Tia,” Mom said, her voice gentler now, “you’re making me nervous. Talk to me.”
I stopped pacing, fingers twisting the engagement ring I’d forgotten to hide. “I just don’t know where to start.”
“The beginning is always a good starting point.” The familiar phrase she used throughout my childhood brought unexpected tears to my eyes.
