Page 87 of Bad Blood

Seven days and seven pains. I made a choking sound. My mother pulled me up against her, laying my head on her shoulder. She pressed her lips to my temple.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.

“I had to find you. Once I realized you were alive, once I realized they had you—I couldn’t stop looking. I wouldneverstop looking.”

“I know.”

There was something in my mother’s tone that reminded me that we were being watched. Over her shoulder, I could see the Masters—six men and one woman, sitting in a line.Director Sterling. Ree. I tried to memorize the others’ faces, but my gaze was drawn upward.

Malcolm Lowell sat above the others, his eyes locked on mine.

Nine is the greatest among us, the bridge from generation to generation….

“We have to get out of here.” I kept my voice low. “We have to—”

“We can’t,” my mother said. “There is noout, Cassie. Not for us.”

I tried to pull back so that I could see her face, but her arms tightened around me, holding me close.

Tight.

In the stands, Ree caught my gaze and then shifted hers to the far wall. Like the one behind me, it was lined with weapons.

Six of them.Not seven. Six.

“Where’s the knife?” I choked on the words. “Mom—”

The hand that had been stroking my hair a moment before grasped it tightly now. She jerked my head to the side.

“Mom—”

She raised the knife to the side of my throat. “It isn’t personal. It’s you, or it’s me.”

I’d been warned, over and over again, that my mother might not be the woman I remembered.

“You don’t want to do this,” I said, my voice shaking.

“But that’s the thing,” she whispered, her eyes lighting on mine. “Ido.”

My mother would never have hurt me. My mother had left home forme. She’d left her own sister forme. She’d been my everything, and I’d been hers.

Whatever you are, you aren’t my mother. That thought took root, deep in my brain, as I thought of Lia telling me that she’d been instructed as a child to pretend that the bad things hadn’t happened toher. That the things she’d done hadn’t been the work ofherhands. I thought of Laurel telling me thatshedidn’t play the game.

Ninedid.

In Laurel’s case, her inner Nine wasn’t a full-fledged person.But you are.

“Seven days and seven pains,” I said softly. “They tortured her. Over and over and over again. They forced themselves on her, one by one, until she was pregnant with Laurel.”

I saw the exact moment that my captor realized I wasn’t talking to myself.

“I wondered how a person could survive something like that, but that’s the thing.Shedidn’t survive it.” The blade still against my neck, I pushed down the urge to swallow. “Youdid.”

She loosened her grip on my hair.

People look at you, and they see her. They loveher. But you’re the strong one. You’re the one who matters. You’re the one who deserves to be seen.

“Were you born here?” I asked, watching her face for any clue that my words had hit their target. “Or have you been around for much, much longer?”