“It’s going to be okay,” I said gently, even if she’d been frantic for the past few hours. “You have to trust?—”
“No!”
I tried stepping forward, but she flinched back as if my touch would burn her. “Mum, please. They can’t find us here. We’re?—”
“Stop!” she hissed, her breathing coming fast, shallow. “You shouldn’t have come home, Violet. Now they’ll all know. Nowhe’llknow.”
I watched helplessly as she unravelled. “Mum, please,” I whispered. “They don’t know we’re here. I promise.”
She nodded, but her focus wavered. Then she saw herself in the mirror and stilled. Her expression emptied, eyes locked on the reflection as though it had whispered something only she could hear.
“They know,” she whispered. “They know!” she repeated, louder until it was almost a scream.
“Mum—”
The bedroom door slammed open, causing us both to jump as Maxim appeared with his gun drawn. Instinct kicked in before my mind could catch up, and I threw myself in front of her, hands up, heart hammering against my ribs.
Maxim took in the situation with one sweep, following mum’s line of sight to the mirror. Without a word, he stepped forward and brought the butt of his gun down hard against the glass.
The shatter was as loud as the following silence, all of us frozen, looking at the fractured shards.
“Better?” he grunted to her.
She blinked, continuing to stare.
“They can’t hear you now,” he continued, accent thick. “But if they do, here.” He held out the gun, and after a second of hesitation, mum took it. “To keep you safe.”
“What are you doing?” I whispered, terrified that he’d just given her a bloody gun.
Mum turned with a glare sharp enough to cut, clutching the weapon tight against her chest. Chin lifted, she swept past Max without a word, her bare feet silent against the polished floor as she vanished down the hall.
I watched Maxim warily, who in return studied me as if deciding whether I was of interest or not.
“It’s not loaded,” he said after a moment before gesturing to the broken glass. “Someone will come clean this.”
“Thank you,” I managed, though I wasn’t sure if I actually meant it considering he’d just given my mentally unwell mother a weapon. Loaded or not, it was still a weapon.
The problem was I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust anyone here.
When Ryder said we were coming back to London, I’d known it was a bad idea. But when I realised he was taking us to Roman’s so-calledsafehouse, my unease turned into something far heavier.
The place was tucked behind wrought-iron gates with a wall of security cameras, the kind of home designed to keep the world out—or trap something inside. Three stories, not counting the basement, built from glass and marblethat spoke of quiet wealth.
It didn’t feel real.
It didn’t feelsafe, either.
It felt like a cage lined in luxury. Beautiful, but suffocating all the same. And being trapped, no matter how pretty the prison, was the last thing I wanted.
I couldn’t live like this again. I refused.
“You will not be harmed,” Maxim said, clearly reading my expression. “Nor your mother. No one can get in.”
“What about getting out?”
Maxim cocked his head to the side, the silver in his hair catching the light. “Roman said you’re not a prisoner.”
“And how well does Ryder know Roman?”
