I don’t have the answer to her question. If something’sgoing on, something serious — I’d hope Aria would know that I’ll always be there for her. No matter what, no matter how much she might’ve fucked something up, I’d always be there. No questions asked.
“Is Dad around?”
Mom walks over to the counter, shaking her head. She pulls out two glasses and some whiskey that she always keeps on hand in one of the kitchen cabinets, then pours us a glass each. She slides it over to me, and I catch it with ease, taking a long sip of the drink. It slides down my throat with ease, burning my tongue in the best possible ways.
“Still chasing after Amy Marshall.’’
I nod. “The meeting between Alexander and Paul should take place tomorrow.’’
“Kaya offered to go with you.’’
A snort slips from me. “Of course she did. But it’s not a bad idea; somehow, I have a feeling that Simmons won’t show up.’’
Mom releases a sigh of relief. “Thank God, I thought it was just me. He’ll definitely send someone else, and that would just mean that he either can’t be bothered with Alexander, doesn’t trust him, or has already found out we have the bastard in captivity.”
“Whichever it may be, it’s good to have Kaya go with me. She’s, thankfully, sharp. And better than me right now.”
Mom finishes her drink, turns the stove off, and then comes to kiss my cheek. “Not better, just in a better headspace. Well, as much as that’s possible given who she is. I’ll go call Aria for breakfast.”
I snort. “Tell the squirt to stop brooding.”
A laugh follows as she disappears behind the door, and I’m left alone. My mind wanders off to the meeting with Simmons. The best-case scenario would be finding him, torturing the information out of him, and finding Blair before the month ends. However, the bastard is rotten. He’s too smart to be captured easilyand has a fucking good team protecting him, especially the law enforcement he’s been bribing for decades. If it were easy to take him out, I would’ve done it already.
The thoughts come to an abrupt halt at the sound of a scream.
My heart sinks to my feet, and I quickly run toward the source.
The sound is raw, gut-wrenching, and absolutely wrecking. The sound of Mom’s voice cracking makes me speed up, running three stairs at a time, my heart threatening to leap straight out of my chest. The shrill tone, filled with agony and a desperate plea, is the only thing I can focus on, my heart stopping to beat for a moment.
I push the door open, and the sight causes my stomach to churn. Something in me breaks, something that will never be repaired. Every vein in my body freezes, blood running cold. As if someone had splashed a bucket of cold water all over me.
The bathtub is filled with water, and the water is red. Blood red. It looks like a scene from a horror movie, and the victim is seemingly dead. My throat closes up, and I can’t move. Everything in me screams to approach the scene more, yet I can’t. I’m paralyzed, the fear of losing my little sister overconsuming me.
The shade of crimson is dark, thick even. The amount of blood in the tub makes my stomach churn, and for someone who kills for a living, this whole scene is making me too nauseous. It’s because it’s Aria’s blood.
Mom’s pulling her out of the bath, her body as pale as a sheet. Her eyes are closed, hair wet, even her lashes have droplets of water on them. Mom’s broken, pained voice reaches my ears, her hand shaking as she tries to wake Aria up. The water from the tub sloshes around, falling over the edge of the tub. Mom’s white shirt is stained with her daughter’s blood, the tiles slippery.
“Baby, please,” a choked sob comes from her throat, herhand pressing on the open wounds on her wrists. She sliced them open — both of them. “Don’t do this to yourself, please,” she whispers, her pleas falling on deaf ears.
Somehow, Aria looks peaceful.
The troubling look she had the past few months is gone. The way she used to be in deep thought, mentally absent from us all, and the way she’d stop expressing her opinion now weighs heavily on me. The signs were all there, and I didn’t see them. Yet again, I’m a complete and utter failure to those who I love. The ones I’m supposed to protect, the ones that need protection.
“Aria,” a choked rasp comes from my throat, and I snap out of my thoughts. I’m quick to call an ambulance, because getting her out and to the hospital without proper medical care could mean letting her die.
I get on my knees next to Mom, and I feel fucking helpless. Mom’s eyes are wide with terror, a million emotions flashing behind them. Her cheeks are stained with silent tears, falling down one by one, with no indication of stopping anytime soon.
My eyes fall on Aria, and my vision blurs.
My pretty little sister, the one that always managed to get on my nerves. The one that always had something smart to say or did anything to provoke me. The only person that knows exactly which buttons to press enough to piss me off, yet not enough to make me insanely angry. She thrives in seeing me squirm, with that devilish smirk of hers.
Now, she’s lying on Mom’s lap, her body limp — lifeless. With trembling hands, I apply pressure on the other wrist, trying to suppress bleeding as much as possible. Mom checks her pulse, something akin to relief flickering in her eyes. She takes in a deep breath, softly murmuring Aria’s favorite childhood lullaby. Mom’s entire body is shaking; her voice cracks with each tune, with each softly spoken word.
The soft tunes fill the room, my chest aching. The painstarts manifesting physically, and I’m struggling to keep myself together.
She’s cradled to Mom’s chest, and I can tell that after tonight, this family will never be the same again. I brush the strand of damp hair out of Aria’s face, softly stroking her cheek with my thumb. Her skin is cold to the touch, and that alone adds another layer to this fucked-up reality.
“You can’t die on me,” I whisper, my words barely audible. “I can’t lose you, squirt.”
