The slap comes a beat later—hard and breath-stealing like a physical thing.
Matt’s mother.
The woman I’d only ever seen at Christmas dinners, charity galas, smiling from framed photographs like she belonged to asafer, cleaner world. A woman who should exist nowhere near places like this.
My stomach rolls, bile creeping up my throat as her eyes lock onto mine.
She smiles.
That same infuriatingly assured smirk I’ve seen in a hundred photos curls her lips, as if she’s exactly where she’s meant to be. Like this room, this building,me, all of it already belongs to her. Like we should be thanking her for the honour of being here.
Cold dread spreads through me, sharp and invasive, sinking its claws deep into my chest.
“Hello, Lily,” Una says, her voice smooth, velvet wrapped around barbed wire.
Niamh’s fingers clamp around my wrist, hard enough to hurt. She might not know who this woman is, but she knows danger when she sees it. And in this moment, with that smile and glint in her eyes, it’s suddenly clear that Antonio isn’t the only predator in the room.
My thoughts scatter, panic detonating behind my ribs.
What is she doing here?
How is she connected to this?
How long has she been connected to this?
I open my mouth but nothing comes out.
Then, broken and shaking, the words finally force their way free.
“Why… why areyouhere?”
Una steps further into the room, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click that feels louder than a slam.
“Because,” she sniffs, slipping off her gloves one finger at a time, “there are things far bigger than you or Matthew. And you have become… an inconvenience.”
My breath catches, before stuttering out of me.
“An inconvenience?” I echo, the word tasting sour in my mouth.
As she rounds the table, she moves with the effortless authority of someone who has never had to justify herself. Someone who has never been denied. Someone who has erased entire truths with nothing more than a manicured hand and a well-placed smile.
Antonio rises, standing beside her. His eyes are dark and unreadable but when they meet Una’s, something flickers between them. Not tension, but recognition, possession, familiarity and a hundred other things that make my stomach drop.
Oh.
The realisation hits before I can stop it, before I can shield myself from it.
Una and Antonio. Together.
Not just partners in cruelty, but… lovers. The casual brush of her fingers along his arm. The way he stands back, content to let her lead. The way the room seems to bend aroundherauthority while he watches, amused.
Antonio chuckles low, indulgent. “Tell her, Una.”
The way he says her name—soft, intimate—makes my skin crawl.
I press my back hard against the chair, wood biting into my spine as panic claws up my throat.
They’re together. And together, they’re a nightmare I can’t outrun.
