"She knows we broke up. She knows he hurt me." I pause. "She doesn't know the exact details. I couldn't... I couldn't tell her everything over the phone."
He nods slowly. "And you want to tell her in person."
"I think I need to. For both of us."
Another long pause. Then he stands, crossing to where I'm standing by the door.
"I'll have Behemoth take you. He'll wait outside, keep an eye on things." He cups my face in his hands, tilting it up so I meet his eyes. "If anything feels wrong—anything at all—you call me. Understand?"
"I understand."
"I mean it, Ripley. Varro's looking for pressure points. Your mother could be one of them."
"I know." I cover his hands with mine. "I'll be careful. I promise."
He studies me for a moment longer, then nods. "Okay. Go see your mom."
I rise up on my toes and kiss him—quick and grateful. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." But there's a hint of warmth in his voice, a softening around his eyes. "Just come back safe."
Behemoth drives me in a black SUV.
He's a massive man—easily six-foot-five, built like a mountain—but he moves with a surprising gentleness.
He doesn't talk much during the drive, just keeps his eyes on the road and the mirrors, watching for tails.
I appreciate the silence.
It gives me time to think about what I'm going to say.
My mother's house is exactly as I remember it—a modest two-story in a working-class neighborhood, with a small yard and a Steelers flag hanging from the porch.
The sight of it makes my throat tighten.
This was my home once.
Before Cain. Before everything went wrong.
"I'll be right here," Behemoth says, pulling up to the curb. "Take your time."
"Thank you."
I get out of the car and walk up the front path on legs that feel like jelly.
The door opens before I reach it.
My mother stands in the doorway.
She looks older than I remember.
More gray in her hair, more lines around her eyes.
But she's still the same woman who raised me—sturdy and strong, with a jaw that says she doesn't take shit from anyone and eyes that see right through you.
"Ripley." Her voice cracks on my name. "Oh, sweetheart."
Then I'm in her arms, and I'm crying, and she's crying, and nothing else matters.
