I toss my phone onto the couch, cheeks burning from the fact that I'm the one who reached out. Still, I know I won't sleep a wink tonight if I'm alone.
I could call Luna. But she's only just pieced her life back together after the nightmare with her ex. She doesn't need my drama. And telling her the truth? That would mean going back to the night my mother died, something I've never shared with her. Some part of me has kept it locked away for almost two decades.
My eyes flick to Damien's open conversation thread. The last thing he sent me is still staring up from the screen.
The corner of my mouth betrays me, a tiny smile, followed by an involuntary eye roll at the nickname he used. I’m not going to pick apart why it makes my stomach flip in such a weird way. Not right now.
I curl into the armchair, knees tucked to my chest, phone clutched tight, just in case someone tries to break in.
I hate being this scared. I hate feeling vulnerable.
A normal person would call the cops. But I know how they treated my mother’s case.
“Just a fling gone wrong,”the lead detective had called it. They’d found messages to an unknown number in her phone. She was supposed to visithimthe next morning, taking me with her.
I keep my eyes on the dahlia, willing it to disappear, but my mind drifts back to that night.
"Stay in the closet, Roxy, and whatever you do, don’t come out until I get back."
"But, Mommy…I’m sleepy. I want to sleep in my bed."
"Don’t come out."
Her voice was sharper than I’d ever heard it. I didn’t understand why she woke me up in the middle of the night. Or why her eyes looked so sad.
"Whatever happens, amorino, don’t make a sound."
The door shut, her footsteps creaking away.
She didn’t kiss me good night. I remember realizing that as I shifted around in the crowded closet, wedged between her shoes. At least she’d let me bring Mr. Unicorn. I used him as a pillow, willing myself to fall asleep.
Maybe she’ll carry me to bed when she comes back, I thought.
Then the first scream came.
I slapped a hand over my mouth.
Another scream — and my hand moved toward the closet door. What if she needed me? Maybe she saw a cockroach; I hated those too.
But then I heard a man’s voice. "YOU CAN’T TAKE HER FROM ME!"
I shrank back.
Mom said she’d come back for me.
Mom said not to make a sound.
Mom said not to come out.
A knock at the door snaps me out of the memory, and I jump to my feet, rushing to answer it.
Damien stands there, hair tousled, shirt buttoned crookedly at the top. For some reason, that small imperfection eases the knot in my chest.
He steps inside, shutting the door behind him. His hands cup my face before I can take a full breath.
"Tell me who I need to kill, and I swear I'll make them bleed slowly."
The lethal promise in his tone pulses through the air. But then it hits me. If the man who left the dahlia is watching me, he's going to see Damien here. Which means Damien could become a target for that lunatic.
