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“Rooster,” I tell him.

“Still baffled.”

My phone buzzes while Hyde is gone.

Mercy is holding it now.

She looks at the screen, and her expression changes.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Mercy.”

She tilts the screen away.

That means something.

I reach for it.

She steps back. “Absolutely not.”

“You cannot hide my own messages from me.”

“I can until Hyde gets back.”

“That sounds suspiciously like control.”

Her face hardens.

I regret the word instantly, not because it is entirely untrue, but because I know exactly why she is doing it.

I hold out my hand.

“Please.”

That gets her.

She exhales through her nose and gives me the phone.

It is another picture.

Not Mama.

Me.

This morning, walking away from the garage after Bitter humiliated me. Mercy is beside me, and my face is turned enough that I can see the expression I did not know I was wearing.

Broken.

Underneath the photo:

Should’ve listened to me, Doll.

My stomach rolls.

Another text arrives.