Page 28

T he flight back to the States went without a hitch.

As soon as my feet hit the American soil, a deep breath of relief slipped past my lips. I didn’t waste any time before going straight home. I was going to text Mom, but I forgot my charger back in Italy since I was in a rush, and my battery ended up dying mid-flight.

Mom was in the basement, polishing her knives. Her love for blades runs deep, and although it’s my weapon of choice, too, it’s nowhere near as passionate as hers. She takes her time wiping the blades, sharpening them, and ensuring they’re in their best state.

She sits on one of the mats, a clean, white cloth in front of her. The blades are neatly placed in front of her, going from biggest to smallest. Her collection is beautiful, too. There’s one specific dagger that she always seems to polish, but she’s not using it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her use it.

I take a seat across from her, and her eyes flicker upward, the familiar warmth in her deep brown eyes calming me down immediately. A smile tugs on the corner of her lips as she continues to wipe the blade, then puts some sort of oil on it.

“You’re back,’’ she smiles. “Any particular reason you came alone?”

I raise a brow. “How did you know I came alone?”

An amused smile lingers on her lips momentarily before she shakes her head with a chuckle. “I was made aware as soon as you stepped out of the plane. What’s going on, Aria?”

My chest tightens. I’m unsure how to bring up the topic, so I avoid it. It’s not something Mom will ever let go, and she’ll continue to pry and probe, but she does know when to do that. My eyes flicker to the dagger in her hand, and I nod.

“What’s the story with that one?”

“What makes you think it has a story?’’

“Please,’’ I scoff. “The blade’s barely been used. Twice tops. Yet, you take the best care of it. Why?”

Mom smiles softly, gently tracing the outline of the blade with her fingertips. A nostalgic look flashes behind her eyes, and she’s lost in her own world for a couple of seconds. Then, she places it back down, looking up at me.

“Back when your dad started…’’ she pauses, looking for the right word. “ courting me, he used this exact blade to stab me.’’

“Pardon?”

She nods.

What the fuck?

“It definitely wasn’t the most conventional type of courting.’’

I snort. “Yeah, there’s a term for that.’’

“Oh?” She raises an amused brow.

“Attempted murder.’’

She laughs, throwing her head back. The sound reverberates through the basement, and it takes her a moment to collect herself. Another few chuckles slip past her lips, and she gives me a wide grin.

“I’m Noelle Campbell. Do you truly think a blade could kill me?”

“How about we keep that part a mystery, alright? I’m not too keen to find out if a blade could kill you or not.’’

“Fair enough.’’

“I am curious, though. Why did Dad stab you?”

She lifts a shoulder. “To be precise, he stabbed my thigh. A while before that, I killed his brother, so it was sort of his revenge since he needed me and couldn’t kill me.’’

“Wasn’t Uncle Franco a really terrible person?”

Mom’s eyes widen slightly, and she releases a deep breath of nervous laughter. “When I killed him, I had no idea he was bad. I did it just because I could, that’s all. Thank fuck it worked out in the end, and he ended up being a sick bastard, so no one really held it against me.’’

“Still, Dad just forgave you for killing his brother?”

This story isn’t anything new to me. I asked mom a few times in the past how she and dad met, and that’s when both Arlo and I sat down, and we got the entire explanation. Before our parents got together, their families were at odds. They were killing each other constantly for generations, and it wasn’t very pretty.

“We had a lot going on back then, Aria,’’ she sighs. “As terrible as it sounds, his brother’s death was the least of his worries.’’

“Speaking of you and Dad,’’ I sprawl on the mat across from her, looking up at the ceiling, “how did Dad propose to you? Arlo was around three during your wedding, right?”

From the corner of my eye, I see Mom standing up and sitting right behind me. She gently puts my head on her lap and starts playing with my hair, braiding two small Dutch braids from the curtain bangs. My eyes close, and I smile in content.

“I was pregnant with Arlo before he proposed. Your grandfather was furious,’’ she chuckles softly. “He dragged Hudson and me to get married the same day we told him. Your father did know that the marriage certificate didn’t save him from a proposal or an actual wedding. We did that just to appease our families.’’

I hum, and she continues.

“Call me shallow, but I wanted the prettiest rock there is. The biggest, too. I wanted it to be extravagant, but also not a real diamond. I prefer lab-made ones; they’re far more ethical. So, he got my birthstone on a pretty golden band.’’

My eyes open, and I look up at her. “He got you an emerald?”

She nods with a wide grin. “The biggest one on the market at the time.’’

I laugh. “That must’ve stood out in crowd.’’

“Definitely,’’ she continues to thread her fingers through my hair softly. “But the proposal itself was perfect. We had a mission, and Arlo was around two at the time. He was with Hudson’s parents, and the two of us flew to Los Angeles. It was in the middle of an abandoned warehouse; we were covered in blood, and he just… got on his knee and popped the question.’’

“Honestly? Sounds fitting.’’

She shrugs. “I loved it.’’

“No wonder I’m insane at times. It runs in the family.’’

She flicks my forehead, and I groan, sitting up. I rub the sore spot on my skin, narrowing my eyes at her. The amused smirk doesn’t leave her lips as she stares, challenging me to say anything. I’m brave — but not that brave. Not brave enough to challenge my mother.

“Any particular reason you’re curious about the proposal, hm?”

“Yeah.’’

She nods, silently urging me to go on.

“Would you believe me if I told you that Cove proposed to me?”

Mom freezes, her mouth parting slightly. Her brows crease, and eyes narrow at me. She folds her arms in front of her chest, pondering that for a moment. Then, she blinks.

“Well? Are you going to elaborate, or am I supposed to be guessing here?”

“To be fair, it was in the spur of the moment. But it keeps replaying in my head. Oh, it also happened while we were surrounded by dead bodies and covered in blood.’’

“You’re scared,’’ she whispers softly, taking her hand in mine. “Look, sweetheart. Emotions are very complicated. I understand why you’d keep thinking about it, especially if it happened in the heat of the moment, but you’re young. Firstly, I would never let you marry so young. Secondly, even if you love him with your whole heart, you don’t have to say yes if you’re not ready. But if you think that he just slipped up and said it thoughtlessly, you’ll need to talk to him. Being on the same wavelength is important.’’

“It’s not that,’’ I squeeze her hands, looking at the floor. My bottom lip trembles slightly, and with a deep breath, I continue. “It’s just… I trust him. I let myself depend on him. It feels good. But at the same time, I feel helpless. This whole Wyatt situation is making me second-guess everything. Cove’s hiding something from me. He’s lying to me. And it hurts. It hurts because there’s no scenario where I’d lie to him about anything.’’

“Do you think he’s lying to protect you?”

“I don’t know!” I raise my voice slightly, my vision blurring with tears. “I don’t want him to lie to protect me. I hate that. It throws me right back to when I was with Wyatt. All the lies, the deception - they never brought anything good. I don’t want anyone fighting my battles. I want someone supporting me while I fight them myself.’’

Mom pulls me into a tight hug, holding my head buried in her chest, gently stroking my hair. I return the embrace, letting the tears fall. I stay in the safety of her tight grasp, letting the sound of her heartbeat slowly steady me.

The tears dry out, and I take a deep breath. Her familiar scent hits my nose and I feel at ease. It’s like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders. Mom’s always been the safest person I knew. I love my dad more than words can describe, but there’s something about the way Mom loves me that can’t compare to anything.

With a deep breath, I make distance between us. Mom wipes my tears away with her thumbs. I see the worry and hurt on her face, and I throw on a fake smile, trying to reassure her. She sees right through the false expression, cupping my cheeks.

“No need to pretend around me, sweetheart. It’s okay.’’

I give her a small smile, grateful for her words. “Thank you. I’ll be okay.’’

“I know,’’ she whispers. “But I need you to know that no matter what it’s about or when, I’ll always be here for you. You and Arlo will always be my priority, okay?”

I nod.

“Good,’’ she releases me. “Now, let’s go up and make dinner.’’

“I’ll help you, but I’ll drop by my apartment first.’’

We rise to our feet, heading out of the basement. She glances at me briefly, then starts walking up the stairs. “Any particular reason why?”

“I want to check in on Rose,’’ I chuckle. “I left with no explanation. She’s going to kill me.’’

Mom nods. “Alright. But sleep here tonight. I want you within my eyesight.’’

I help Mom quickly prepare dinner, then grab her car keys and head out of the door. I’d go with my bike, but it’s too late and too cold for that now. Besides, I like using Mom’s things every once in a while. It drives her absolutely crazy, and no doubt I’ll get an earful for using her car without asking first.

The drive to my place is fairly quick, and I’m mentally preparing myself for the scolding from Rose.

However, once I unlock the door and step inside, I immediately freeze.

Something’s odd.

It’s the end of November. It’s too cold inside, as if no one’s turned the heating on in days. I make my way through the apartment, my eyes darting left and right. The kitchen’s clean, but there are a few plates and glasses in the sink, dirty. They’ve been there for a day or two at least.

“Rose?” I yell out, grabbing a kitchen knife.

No response.

I make a quick inspection, and it’s empty. My empty hand reaches for my phone in the back pocket, and I dial her number. It starts ringing, and it’s coming from her bedroom. I push the door open, only to find it as empty as the rest of the apartment.

Her bed’s messy, clothes thrown on the floor and her books spread across the edge of the bed. Rose’s only messy when she’s studying, and once she’s done, she always cleans up. She’s too much of a neat freak to leave her personal space in such a state.

I grab her phone, which is just under the duvet, and I feel anxiety start to rise in my chest.

Where the fuck is she?

Quickly, I head to my bedroom, and find it just as I left it. A few duffle bags that I wanted to fill with clothes to take to Mom’s, the underwear drawer slightly ajar. I’m about to leave the room when something catches my eye.

My feet move on their own accord until I’m standing next to my bedside table.

A small note is on it, something that definitely wasn’t there before. I pick it up, and my blood runs cold.

“ Tick-tock, baby. Better hurry up or your friend dies. ”