Knowing your mother hates you and actually having her try to kill you are two very different things.
“Our guys will find her,” Grant says, falling into step beside us.
“She really wanted to kill us,” Clover says. “So—so what if I’m not her end game? What if it isn’t me she’s after?”
“What else would she want?” Grant asks, wrapping his arm around Chief and helping him through the brush.
My vision blurs, and I pause to shake my head. Grant’s worried gaze scans every inch of us as though he’s preparing to perform first aid if necessary, but I’m not injured. Memories are glitching in my mind so fast, I’m dizzy.
“She said I was weak, just like my father. What line did I cut her out of? What matters most to her?”
Understanding dawns in Grant’s expression. “This isn’t just about Clover. It’s about money,” he says. “Because what does money equal in her eyes?”
“Power,” I grunt. “I’m not married. I have no children. Obviously, Terra’s death certificate is a fake, so if I die, she’s technically my next of kin.”
Roman jogs to catch up to us. “She’s gone. She had another fucking escape hatch. But she dropped this when she ran.” He holds up an evidence bag.
Inside is a photo of Clover. I glance down at it as all-consuming hatred eats me from the inside out.
“That’s from today,” Clover gasps. “From our safe house.”
“How is that fucking possible?” Grant shouts. “We took every precaution securing that location. Where are her accomplices?”
Roman shakes his head. “They wouldn’t put down their weapons. Our guys had no choice but to fire.”
“Valen,” Clover says quietly, wiggling in my arms until I carefully set her on her feet. “She’s never going to stop, is she?”
Her voice breaks on the last word, and when she stares up at me, I see something that guts me more than all the fear and panic attacks combined. I see exhaustion. The soul-crushing kind that comes from fighting the same battle for so long you’ve forgotten what peace feels like.
“I—I can’t do this anymore. I can’t.”
I want to lie to her and tell her everything will be fine.
But I can’t because Terra just proved she’ll stop at nothing to reach her goals, and she’s never, ever going to let Clover go.
“We have to figure out what she has on Mom,” Sterling says. “I have a bad feeling that this is all connected somehow, and the sooner we find the missing pieces, the sooner we can ensure everyone’s safety.”
“We have to move,” I say, reaching for Clover’s hand. “And this time, we’re not trusting anyone but family. No more guessing. Terra isn’t better than us,” I growl. “She’s just had a lifetime of practice hurting people. She thinks she has nothing left to lose, and that makes her dangerous.”
I glance over my shoulder. Our tree is still standing. Scorched and damaged beyond recognition, but still standing.
Just like us.
As we reach our vehicles, I say, “What she doesn’t realize is that having everything to lose makes you so much more deadly.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CLOVER
The new safe house is a murder motel, and I can’t even bring myself to appreciate all the story inspiration.
I miss the Sugar on Snow Inn and the rustic seclusion the mountain cabin afforded us.
Typically, a murder motel would be fodder for days, with the peeling paint and questionable characters, but almost getting blown up by your boyfriend’s mother has a way of really dismantling everything you thought you knew.
Boyfriend? Bodyguard?
I have more holes in my story than Swiss cheese.
