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“That’s a big secret,” he breathes.

“Noor and Zayn are part of it, right?” I ask. “I can keep secrets. Just… because I am loud and big, doesn’t mean I can’t. I bought one of her paintings tonight.”

Zayn stares at me for a long moment, not giving me shit.

“Which painting?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder, as if knowing his time is short.

“How are you getting back into the house?” I ask.

“Another secret,” he mumbles.

“I bought the motorcycle woman riding past the sunset,” I say, keeping my voice even. I’m not going to rush, even though I know he’s close to being caught.

He shouldn’t be sneaking out. Ugh, is this what it’s like to be old?

“Rummani is a family name,” he finally says. He doesn’t tell me whose, but that’s fine. “I don’t think you should be kissing my mom.”

“Is your mom an adult or are you?” I drawl.

“Ugh. I still don’t like it. I have to go.”

Turning, he begins to dash toward the backyard, leaving me to lock up.

“Hey!” I hiss.

“You’re going to get me caught,” he hisses back, half turning.

“Can we be friends?” I ask, my lips twitching, knowing this is going to irritate him. I was jealous earlier at how easy Arran’s conversation with Zayn was, even though I knew I shouldn’t be. They’ve known each other much longer.

“Why? We don’t know each other,” he says.

“If we get to know each other, you’ll know whether or not I should date your mom,” I reply, standing.

Zayn makes a face at that before he disappears, and I close the gate. This went nothing like I thought it would, but maybe it’s what we need. Keeping things from a kid this smart isn’t going to fucking work.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

NOOR

“I think we need to chat about a voice memo I received last night, mija,” Emil says, sipping his coffee. He knocked on the door this morning with a Cheshire cat smile, and I immediately knew something was up.

I did what any granddaughter does when she’s not sure what’s going on: stall. I made him cafecito the way he likes it, while taking my sweet ass time, then suggested we go outside onto the patio.

“About?” I ask sweetly.

“Zayn sent me a voice memo late last night stating that his mother was out late at night with a hockey player,” Emil drawls. “He said Ciaran knew your name was Noor and asked if you needed to go into the witness protection program.”

“Ha!” I can’t help it, I fucking cackle as I pull my phone toward me and access the security cameras in the house. If this had been a month ago, I would have been freaking the fuck out, but I’m in a much different place now with Alastair, Ciaran, and Draven.

Theo told me I needed to be able to check them, despite my reticence. Now, I’m glad for it.

I watch as the feed in the upstairs hallway catches Zayn sneaking into my bedroom, and then switch to an outdoor video camera. That one shows him easing down the stairs and I roll my eyes.

“I thought I’d have at least till he was sixteen for this,” I mutter, tracking him out into the front yard. My son hides in the bushes and watches Ciaran carry me up the stairs on the feed. “Ugh, kid. You’re killing me. You were supposed to be in bed.”

I watch as Ci walks to the road before turning sharply around. He must have heard something, and then he tracks my son to the fence.