Chapter Nineteen
Rona
Wespentlastnightin the kind of hotel that sits tucked against the freeway. It’s anonymous enough that no one will look at us a second time when I walk in the door and safe enough that my mother can meet us there.
I didn’t sleep much. I kept jerking awake anytime my body relaxed, my hands reaching for Darhg in the king-sized bed, only tofind nothing.
Not that Darhg slept, either. He spent the night looking out the window, vigilant as ever.
It’s been only one night, but already, the comfort and peace of the cabin feels like something too good to be true. Something I made up. Something that didn’t really happen.
Like my mating with Darhg. Maybe I’m that desperate. Maybe I made up the whole romantic thing.
But no. This is not true. Darhg cares for me. I know it.
The sound of multiple large engine vehicles shatters the quiet like breaking glass. I jolt upright in the hotel bed, my heart hammering against my ribs as the sound of heavy footsteps echoes across the parking lot outside.
Darhg is already moving, walking the few steps to the window in one fluid motion. His amber eyes blaze red in the pale light filtering through the thin hotel curtains as he peers through them. The rigid set of his shoulders tells me everything I need to know.
"Two black SUVs," he says quietly. "Government plates."
My mother is here.
Relief and dread war in my chest in equal measure. My hands shake as I push my hair back from my face. I can't seem to catch my breath properly, the walls of this small room pressing in like they're closing around me.
“She will believe me,” I tell him, but I can’t tell if it’s for my own benefit or his. “She has to believe me now that it wasn’t real.”
He nods, but his attention remains fixed on the window, watching whatever's happening in the parking lot below. I wrap my arms around myself, still wearing yesterday's clothes, feeling raw and exposed all over again.
A few moments later, the hotel room door opens without ceremony and my mother strides in with the kind of commanding presence that transforms any room into her territory. Senator Melissa Quinn in full power mode is a force of nature and she’s dressed to kill this morning. Her hair is perfectly done in a tight, severe bun. Her beautiful face is done in expert level makeup, her lips painted a classic red and her eyebrows arched to sophisticated perfection. Her eyes are hidden behind large sunglasses, which she takes off with a dramatic sigh as she sets her sharp pale-blue glare on me. She shrugs out of her charcoal wool coat to reveal an ivory power suit as tailored as the rest of her appearance.
A tiny voice inside my skull whimpers like a scolded puppy as she removes supple leather gloves and sets them on the side table by the door. Behind her, Caroline Sparks flutters like an anxious butterfly, her moss-green wings twitching with nervous energy as she clutches a tablet to her chest. The pixie meets my gaze only once, then quickly looks away.
She knows as well as I do that this isn’t going to be pleasant. At least, not for me.
Two stone-faced security agents position themselves at the door but don’t step inside. I wonder for a second if they’reDarhg’s men, but they give no indication of recognizing him. Darhg stares at them and nods in a subtle, almost unnoticeable way. It’s not much, but I notice the way a vein pulses at his temple.
Yeah. Those are his men. Or at least, they were.
"Rona." Mom's voice cuts through the sudden tension. "My darling girl. How are you holding up?"
I pull Darhg's oversized hoodie tighter around myself, suddenly aware that I'm wearing sweatpants while she's perfectly put together despite the early hour. The familiar weight of being unprepared, of being the messy variable in her carefully managed world, settles over my shoulders.
Darhg steps forward, strong and calm despite the obvious tension radiating in the room. My mother's gaze flicks over him with the kind of assessment that misses nothing. The kind of assessment that forgives nothing as well.
"Senator," he says with a respectful nod. "I apologize for the circumstances."
"No apology necessary." Her tone is brisk, and her smile is brittle. She’s not happy. Not happy at all. "You've kept her safe, which is what matters."
Anxiety churns in my stomach as I see the telltale signs of her simmering anger. I know her well enough to see that she’s stressed and needs someone to blame. Darhg is the most obvious target, and I have no idea how to prevent what’s coming.
"I have proof that the video is a synthetic deepfake," Darhg continues, oblivious to my mother’s glare.
“What kind of proof are we talking about?” Senator Quinn tilts her head, and for the first time since she walked in the room, she looks genuinely interested.
Hope rises in my chest like a balloon at her reaction. Finally. Vindication. Technical proof that what everyone saw wasn't real, wasn't me. I straighten, feeling lighter for the first time since this nightmare began.
Darhg explains to her the details about the extra fingers and Mom watches him like a hawk, missing nothing of his words.
