Present Day
TheSUVscreechesintothe gravel driveway, skidding in the ice and the rear end swerving with the dramatic braking. Fear instantly clutches my throat.
Mom always clears the driveway, even if she isn’t going anywhere. It’s a habit she took from my dad, more so something he’d scold her to do whenever he was gone on a deployment, so she didn’t wreck her car.
How long has he had her before the text?
My hand reaches for the handle as Dawson grips my upper arm. “Wait until the guys check the perimeter.”
I blow out a frustrated breath. It’s been over five hours since we left; we hit speeds I’d never dream of managing on thathighway. Thankfully these cars were built to handle the weather. Otherwise, we’d probably be dead.
The rest of the SUVs fill the driveway, spilling onto the sombre street, Ultio members filtering out across the lawn and sweeping into the driveway.
Dawson’s ex-military side is radiating off him right now. He sits with a radio clutched in his hand, a gun in the other. Eyes dart across all corners of sight as the black-cladded bodies slink into various areas around my mom’s house.
Minutes feel like hours, my gaze flickering to the handle and the front door. The electricity is sparking through my entire body. I just want to run inside that house and grab her.
Kill him for laying a finger on her.
After all she’s done for Barry. She treated him like a son, when he was young and his parents didn’t have time for him. Or when they’d jet off on vacation, she’d have him over here with Louisa learning his favourite meals to cook.
And this is how he repays her.
My hand tugs the lever, Dawson’s objections being closed in as I slam the door, cocking the gun on my march to the front door.
The sound of heavy footsteps run up behind me, and I’m whipped round to face him. “If anything happens to you, Saint will fucking skin me alive,” he growls, and I tug out of his grip.
I don’t answer him, just stare, making my intentions very fucking clear.
Seeing the defiance in my eyes, the rise and heavy falls of my chest as I glare at him, he gives in. Pulling the radio up to his face, he clicks the receiver. “Heading in through the front.”
Gripping my arm again, he tugs me behind his back. I don’t even object because, honestly, I can’t fuck this up.
I need to live long enough to watch Barry suffer. And Louisa, letting her husband do this to her own fucking mom.
Dawson’s movements are slow and precise, footsteps a stark contrast to the heavy thumps that usually accompany him. He leads me up the couple steps into the porch, turning down the radio and slowly turning the door handle.
I can’t breathe.
The images of finding Jenna’s body flash through my mind.
The blood-covered walls.
The phone flashing with Regina’s name as it lay next to the dead body.
The stab to my heart resurfacing.
But Jenna isalive.
That wasn’ther.
It won’t happen to my mom.
It fucking can’t.
The hallway reveals itself to the same beige-coloured paint that’s coated the walls since I was a teenager. No blood stains sprayed across any surfaces, no chill in the air as if death is waiting on its discovery.
My shoulders relax, and my lungs kick back into function. Holly walks through the hallway, clicking her radio to speak low as she nods towards the doorway of the dining room.
