Page 19 of Lone Wolf (Red Rivals)

CHAPTER 19

Ariadne

My muscles are coiled tight, ready to spring. Time seems to slow as I take a step forward.

I keep my face expressionless. Showing fear will only make things worse.

“Back up!” Katy snaps.

I let my muscles relax, dropping the ready stance that Katy would instantly recognize as a threat. I modify my expression—not completely blank as Grandmother taught me, but with a hint of boredom, of frustration.

“Listen, Katy, not only will I help you get out of here,” I say, infusing my voice with casual dismissal, “I want to come with you.”

Katy’s eyes narrow, suspicion flashing across her face. “What game are you playing?”

“No game,” I reply with a casual shrug. “You think I’m happy here? Everyone treats me like I’m some kind of freak.” I gesture to the arranged chairs with open contempt. “This was the last straw. Group therapy? As if talking about our feelings will change anything.”

Scarlett catches on immediately. I see the shift in her posture, the contempt and anger crossing her face as she turns to me. “You’re turning traitor?” she demands. “After all we’ve done for you?” She’s good—Grandmother would have been proud of her performance. Just as she would have been proud of mine.

“I don’t believe you,” Katy says, but I can see the first hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“You should. I’ve got nothing left to lose,” I answer, letting bitterness creep into my voice. “They’ll never trust me here. Not really. I’m just someone they keep around because I’m useful. But the moment I’m not...” I draw a finger across my throat.

Scarlett’s face twists with perfectly orchestrated disgust. “I should have killed you long ago,” she spits. “Always knew you were still Grandmother’s creature.”

I laugh, channeling the coldness I’ve worked so hard to leave behind. “You’re probably right,” I agree, my voice light and deadly. “But you didn’t, and now here we are.” I turn back to Katy, moving a fraction closer. “So what do you say? The two of us could do some real damage out there.”

She’s wavering. I can see it in the way her eyes dart between us, calculating the odds. She wants to believe me— needs to believe me, really, if she wants any chance of making it out of here alive.

“Clear the way to the garage,” I bark at Scarlett, who glares daggers at me before stalking toward the main house.

I take another careful step toward Katy and my mother. “Don’t try anything,” Katy warns.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply.

And that’s when I feel it—that prickling sensation at the back of my neck. Someone is watching us.

I glance over my shoulder and my blood freezes.

Sunny.

She stands at the edge of the garden, her face a mask of shocked disbelief. My heart stutters in my chest. This wasn’t part of the plan. She wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to see this, to hear the terrible things I’m saying.

For a split second, panic threatens to overwhelm me. If Sunny gives us away, if she reacts with anything but absolute belief in this fiction we’re spinning, my mother is dead.

I need to bring her into the performance without missing a beat.

I sneer at her, praying Sunny will understand. “Well, look who’s here,” I drawl. “The Syndicate’s number two recruit. Pity you’re nowhere near my level. You might actually be able to do something if you were.” I infuse my voice with as much derision as I can muster, hating myself for the flash of hurt that crosses her face. “This one can stay,” I tell Katy in a quieter voice, as though Sunny isn’t even worth addressing. “She can help us find the right key for the bikes at the garage.”

I glance back at Sunny, willing her to see past the cruelty of my words to the desperation beneath. Play along. Please.

She swallows hard, and for a terrible moment, I think she’s going to challenge me. “I don’t think—” she begins.

“That’s right, you don’t,” I cut her off, harsher than I intend. “For once in your life, just do as you’re told.”

She ducks her head, and I hate myself for putting that defeated look on her face. “Fine,” she mutters. But then she looks up at me through her lashes, just for a second, and relief floods through me. She’s understood. She’s playing her part.

My mother’s eyes flick between us, and I see comprehension in her eyes. She relaxes slightly in Katy’s grip—a minuscule tell that I’m sure only I notice.

“Let me handle this, Dr. Khatri,” Scarlett tells the psychologist, who nods after only a brief pause.

“Let’s move,” Katy orders, dragging my mother along with her. “And if anyone tries anything, she dies. Understood?”

We all nod, and our strange procession begins to move toward the mansion, leaving Dr. Khatri behind us. Scarlett and I lead the way, Sunny behind us, and Katy and my mother bringing up the rear. Every step feels like walking through a minefield. One wrong move, and it all ends in blood.

As we enter the mansion, Scarlett bellows at anyone we encounter. “Clear the way! Now!”

People scatter like startled birds. I keep close to Katy, waiting for an opportunity. But her grip on my mother never wavers, and her attention never fully leaves me. She may be buying my act, but she’s not stupid.

The garage is dimly lit and cavernous, the ceiling low enough to create a sense of claustrophobia. Rows of vehicles wait in orderly lines—the Syndicate’s transportation fleet. Scarlett leads us to where the motorcycles are kept and then stops.

“You can let Mrs. Graves go now,” she says calmly. “You’ve got what you wanted.”

Katy tightens her grip, making my mother wince. White-hot rage pulses through me, but I force it down. Not yet. Not yet.

“The keys first,” Katy demands.

“I’ll get them,” Sunny says, moving toward the lockbox mounted on the wall.

This is it. My hand inches toward the knife concealed at my lower back, fingers wrapping around the familiar handle. Scarlett meets my eyes, and I give her the slightest nod. We’ve worked together before, trained together. She knows what I’m capable of. And right now, that’s exactly what I need.

Sunny holds up a key, letting it dangle from her fingers. “This one’ll get you to the state line before you need to refuel.”

I watch Katy’s eyes track the keys, and then she gives me the split-second opening I’ve been waiting for. Sunny throws the keys in a high arc and Katy’s gaze follows them instinctively, her attention shifting just enough.

Now.

I slice my knife down Katy’s forearm, causing her left hand to release as she gives a howl of pain. At the same time, Scarlett’s knife is spinning fast, catching and yanking the sleeve of her other arm, pulling her right hand away and freeing my mother completely.

My mother stumbles forward and Sunny darts in to pull her clear. Relief floods through me—she’s safe, she’s unharmed—but there’s no time to dwell on it. I close the distance to Katy.

“Your mistake,” I say, my voice deadly quiet as I sink my blade into her chest, “was threatening my mother.”

Katy gasps, blood bubbling at the corner of her mouth. Confusion clouds her eyes as she stares at me. “Grandmother?” she says. And then the light fades from her eyes. Her body slumps, moving only when I pull free the knife.

It’s over. She’s dead. My mother is safe.

So why can’t I stop shaking?

I stare down at my hands, covered in Katy’s blood, and watch with detached fascination as they tremble uncontrollably and I drop the knife with a clatter. The tremors travel up my arms, into my shoulders, down my spine. I can’t make them stop.

I’ve killed so many times I’ve lost count. This shouldn’t be affecting me like this. But suddenly all I can see is the blood, all I can feel is the warm stickiness coating my skin.

“Sarah!” My mother has broken away from Sunny, is heading toward me.

I move forward instinctively, raising up my hands as though to push her away. “No—the blood—” I begin, unable to tear my gaze away from the crimson coating my fingers.

She wraps her arms around me, heedless of the blood. “As if I care about that,” she says fiercely. “You’re my daughter.”

For months, I’ve pushed her away. I’ve rejected her attempts to reach me, to mother me, to love me. I convinced myself I didn’t need her, didn’t want her, couldn’t bear the reminder of what I’d lost.

But she never stopped trying. Never stopped believing. Never stopped loving the daughter that Grandmother tried to erase.

Something breaks inside me—a dam holding back years of grief and rage and loss. Tears burn my eyes, spill down my cheeks. My arms come around her of their own accord, clinging to her like a lifeline as sobs tear themselves from my throat.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out, the words inadequate for the magnitude of what I feel. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

Sorry for pushing her away. Sorry for the daughter she lost. Sorry for the blood on my hands and the ice in my veins and the darkness in my soul.

We sink to the ground together, my legs no longer able to support me. My mother cradles me against her, one hand stroking my hair, murmuring soft words of comfort that I don’t deserve but desperately need.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Through a blur of tears, I see Sunny and Scarlett draping a car cover over Katy’s body. I register the arrival of Hadria and Lyssa, the quiet efficiency of their damage control.

But all of it feels distant, secondary to the storm raging out of me.

My mother holds me through it all, solid and warm and real. She doesn’t flinch from my tears, doesn’t pull away from my bloodstained hands, doesn’t try to shush my broken apologies.

She just holds me, anchoring me as I shatter and begin, slowly, to reassemble into something new.

At last, through the chaos in my mind, I become aware of movement at the edge of my vision. The others are backing away, giving us space. My eyes find Sunny’s across the garage. There’s no judgment in her gaze, no fear, no revulsion. Only understanding and something softer that makes my heart contract painfully in my chest. I manage a tremulous nod of thanks, not trusting my voice. She nods back, those expressive eyes telling me everything she’s not saying out loud.

My mother shifts, adjusting her position on the hard concrete floor, but her arms never loosen their hold on me. I rest my head against her shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against my ear.

For the first time since Grandmother took me, I let myself be a daughter again.