She nods toward the bed, her face softening a bit. “Besides, Em and your dad really need rest, Wren. You know it.”
I sigh, and it’s not just a tired sigh; it’s thatdeep-breath-before-surrenderkind of sigh. She’s right. As much as I’d love tofight back, to argue about staying or running,Em and John are finally safe.The thought of dragging them out of here now?
I’d be the asshole if I did.
I swallow the last bite of the banana, avoiding her eyes because admitting she’s right is not something I do easily.
“Fine,” I mutter, but it’s more to myself than to her. I don’t even know what my plan is at this point, and that’s the part that pisses me off. I’m used to having control, and right now? I’ve got none.
Soph’s already halfway out the door, turning back with a sly smile. “Go clean up, will ya? You smell like someone who wrestled with death and lost.”
Soph’s right.
I’m not going anywhere.Not yet.
And if I’m being honest with myself? I probably don’t have much of a choice.
79
Wren
“Momma?”“Momma!!”
Waking up’s a bitch. Especially when the bed’s this damn soft, and my body feels like I’ve been run over by a truck.
I peel my cheek off the pillow, feeling the gross trail of drool that’s probably left a permanent mark on this fancy-ass silk.
“Ugh… What time is it?” I mumble, trying to sit up but immediately regretting it as every muscle in my body screams in protest.
“It’s wakeo’cwocknow.”
I blink, trying to adjust to the grogginess, and there he is. My baby boy. Standing by the bed, clutching a stuffed bear with one hand, looking up at me with those huge, innocent blue eyes. His hair’s a wild mess, sticking up in every direction, like he’s been through the same battle I just barely survived.
My gaze falls to his neck, and my stomach turns. The bandage is stark white against his skin, covering where that bitch Elena’s knife cut him. Slowly, carefully, I reach out and touch the edge of the bandage. My fingers are trembling, and I can feel the rage bubbling up inside me, mixed with a gut-wrenching fear. He was so close to— No. I can’t even think it.
“Momma, are you okay?”
His brow furrows in that serious little way he does,just like D.Like he’s trying to solve a problem only he can see.
I force a weak smile, but the ache in my chest is real. Everything feels heavy. “Yeah, baby. Momma’s just…tired.”
He nods, that little head bobbing up and down, like he’s thinking through it all.
I swallow hard, forcing a smile. “How about you? Does your neck hurt?”
His little chin lifts, a determined look crossing his face. “Yes. But I’mbwave… just like you, Momma,” he says, his voice steady despite the slight tremor in his bottom lip.
Something inside me breaks and mends all at once. Fuck, this kid.
“Damn right, you are,” I reply, patting the bed. “Come on up here with me, kid. I could use a hug.”
His tiny hands clutch the edge of the bed as he clambers up, determined to sit beside me. He crawls over, sitting close, like he’s guarding me now. I feel his small hands on top of my head, patting me gently, like I’m a fragile thing that needs protecting.
“You make the bad woman sweep, Momma.”
Elena.
That bitch deserved every fucking bit of what she got, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. But knowing my boy was there to see the whole goddamn massacre? That’s a whole new level of fuckup.
