Falcon sighs. “I wasthisclose to killing him in that hallway.”
He shows a tiny gap between his fingers before he puts that arm around me as well.
“In all honesty, I’m still ready to do it.”
I believe him, and a part of me even wants him to do it.
It’s the same part that feels heartbroken for my mother and everything she’s gone through because of him. He doesn’t deserve to take another breath after all that he’s done.
But I know if we go down that path, all we’ll get is more heartache.
“Then, I’m not letting you out of my sight.” I wrap my arms around him. “Because I need you with me. Not sitting in a jail cell because you did something to make me feel better. I want him to rot in hell, but he can get there on his own.”
We hug for a moment before my mom comes out of the bathroom.
She’s holding a bag of toiletries and a baby’s towel.
“Oh,” she says, sounding surprised. “I’m sorry I didn’t know we had another visitor.”
I break apart from Falcon, and smile at my mom.
“This is Falcon. Two of my mates came out here to help bring us back home.”
“Home?” she asks, like she doesn’t understand.
“My home,” I clarify, wondering where she considers her home to be.
Does she remember where she came from, before she was stolen and sold?
“Oh,” she says, nodding. “Right. I didn’t think you meant the city.”
“The city?”
“I was born in Cressidan City so I guess I would call it my home. My mother had an apartment there. She left it to me when she died. I was just out of high school and so I tried my best to pass for a Beta and live like she had. I wasn’t very good at it.”
She remembers her past, and she’s from the city.
I’m stunned as she goes on.
“I tried to be an actress. I was in a play once. It was so much fun.”
“That sounds amazing,” I admit, as she puts her things on the bed.
“It was all I really wanted out of life.”
She moves over to the small closet and takes out a pair of flats.
Putting them on the carpet, she slips into them.
“Is it cold out?” she asks. “I don’t remember what month it is. I get the seasons all turned around.”
“You should wear a coat, or a sweater,” I tell her. “It’s almost fall.”
“Oh my,” she murmurs. “Almost fall. That would make you 27 in a month or so.”
I blink at her. “You remember when I was born?”
“Of course.” She smiles. “It was the end of September, the 30th. The leaves were falling and the trees looked so pretty. Your hair was the perfect color for the day you were born.”
