“Let’s go talk to her.” Saint stands, removing the car keys from his pocket and handing them to Galen. He only had one glass of champagne so he’s the only one fit to drive.
_______________
Thankfully, Sinner’s truckis absent when we arrive back at the house. Diesel messaged me en route, offering a better solution than Galen’s house. He’s on standby until I give him the go-ahead. I just need to convince Mom this is the right call to make.
The house is quiet when we step inside. Eerily so, and that frightens me. I race through the kitchen and out into the hall, slamming to a halt when I spot the four guys sitting on the floor, wearing Sainthood cuts, blowing cigarette clouds into the air as they smoke while staring at their phones.
“You can leave,” Saint tells them, coming up behind me.
“Any problems?” Galen asks, coming up on my other side.
“She hasn’t come downstairs, and no one has gone up,” the tall, dark-haired guy says, and I vaguely recognize him. I think he might go to our school.
“Thanks, man.” Saint slaps him on the back.
“Anytime.” He nods before looking at me. “We were sorry to hear about Sariah. Those bitches should burn in hell for what they did to her.”
“Thanks. I’m pretty sure county jail is hell on Earth, so they’ll get what’s coming to them.”
“Bank on it,” Saint says, slinging his arm around my waist. “We’ve already put the word out.” I squeeze Saint’s waist in a show of gratitude, glad he’s organized that. The case is coming before the court next month, and everyone knows they’re going down. What Beth and the other two girls don’t realize is The Sainthood has planned a “Welcome to Jail” party to end all parties.
Couldn’t happen to more deserving recipients.
The guys filter out the front door, and I race up the stairs, eager to get to Mom.
My guys congregate in Saint’s bedroom while I slip into my bedroom, where Mom is holed up. The curtains are still drawn, and it’s dark as I pad over to the bed. “Mom.” I sit down and switch on the lamp, biting back a hiss when I spot the bruised skin around her throat and her wrists and the raised lash marks on her upper chest. Her eyes bore into mine, confirming she wasn’t sleeping. “It’s after three.”
“Is he here?” she croaks, and I don’t miss the flare of panic that crosses her face.
“No. He left last night and hasn’t been back.”
“Good.”
“But you know he will, and we need to make plans.”
“I already have a plan.” Her tone is neutral, and the expression on her face gives nothing away.
“Are you going to explain that?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing has changed in that regard. It’s still safer if you don’t know.”
I sigh in exasperation. “You need to get out of here before he comes back.”
Silence greets my statement, and I’m lining up arguments when she opens her mouth, shocking me. “I know.”
I stare at her, examining her face to ensure she’s not messing with me. “You mean that?”
She nods. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t, and I’m adjusting my plan accordingly.”
“No.” I shake my head, tipping her chin up gently so she’s looking me in the eye. “You aren’t going to do anything else. You need to heal and rest and let us take care of him.”
“I can’t ask that of you. You’re a child.”
“I’m eighteen, Mom, and we both know I stopped being a child at thirteen.”
“I never wanted this for you,” she whispers. “I was supposed to protect you, and I’ve failed so badly.”
“You don’t need to worry,” Saint says, and I jerk my head to the door. It’s slightly ajar, and only his head is visible. “We’re here to protect Harlow now.”
