Page 8 of No Mistakes (No Mercy #2)

EVA

I slam the door to the bathroom, locking it behind me. The echo bounces off the sterile tiles wrapped around the room.

My breathing comes out fast, too fast, and I press my palms against the cool porcelain sink, grounding myself.

The image of Axel walking into the living room replays over and over, and I grip the edge of the sink harder, making my knuckles turn white.

I stare at the reflection in front of me and examine the person standing before me.

The flushed cheeks, trembling jaw, and eyes wide but with a hint of darkness.

The colour that only relates to pain and heartbreak.

I don’t recognise the person who is looking back at me.

She looks like someone who lost a war and came back pretending it didn’t happen.

I lift a finger, slowly brushing it against the new scar just under my collarbone, half hidden by my shirt. A reminder of everything I’ve survived. Of everything he dragged into my life.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the video plays inside my mind of Marco and his men standing over me as I'm pushed onto the floor, begging for my life.

I shake my head, begging the memory to disappear, and when it does, I sigh in relief.

Only for it to be replaced seconds later by someone else with a stupid, cocky smirk.

Rage fuels my body at the way he dared to stand there in the middle of the range like he hadn’t torn me apart. Like he wasn’t a walking fucking betrayal. He stood there and breathed like nothing had changed, while my entire world had been reduced to ash the second I thought he died.

And then, worse… worse than the lies, worse than the rage was the way my body betrayed me. The way my heart stuttered just from seeing him. The heat in my chest that surged the moment I realised he was real, alive, right there.

The pounding in my head returns, a dull drumbeat behind my eyes as I blink the tears away.

There’s only one person I want to call right now, and she’s no longer here.

The person who would hold me tight at night when my heart was broken, or when I hurt myself when I first rode my bike without training wheels.

My mother's voice plays in my head, bringing me some kind of comfort as I imagine us lying in my bed, wrapped in each other's arms. “It’s okay, baby girl, mummy’s here.”

I wipe the tears away with the back of my hand, cursing out loud for crying when I promised myself I would be strong.

My mother was the peacemaker in the family.

The one you would go to for issues or support.

She would sit with you for hours on end, until you were ready to talk about what had happened, and end the conversation with a warm cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles.

A small laugh escapes me as I picture her handing me my pink cup as the whipped cream drips down the side.

“A warm drink to hug you from the inside.” She would say.

“Oh mum… God, I miss you so fucking much.” I whisper. “I could do with someone right now.”

Just as I finish my sentence, a knock appears at the door. I freeze for a moment, a part of me thinking it could be her, but I know deep down, there is only one way I will be reunited with her, and today is not that day.

“Eva?”

I look towards the door, pausing as I hear Mandy’s voice float through the cracks, and I look up to the ceiling, smiling slightly. “Is this your way of telling me to forgive her?” I say softly.

“Eva, are you in there?” Mandy asks, her voice soft.

Sighing, I turn and lean against the sink. “I need a minute.” I manage to say.

Mandy pauses, as if she’s trying to decide what to do. “I’ll be outside.”

I listen to the faint sound of retreating footsteps as she walks away from the door, and for a long time, I don’t move.

Pushing myself away from the sink, I turn and press the tap down to splash water.

The coldness hits me instantly, bringing me back to reality.

The mirror catches the rise and fall of my shoulders, and I force myself to stand straighter.

I’m no longer the girl he left behind. I am my mother's daughter.

I press my lips together and make a promise to myself, “You don’t get to break me twice.”

I step outside to a different atmosphere. The clouds above are dense, threatening a downpour that feels symbolic, like even the sky knows something’s brewing.

I spot Mandy leaning against the hood of the car, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed at something next to the building. I don’t look as I walk towards her, and she straightens the moment she sees me.

“You good?” She asks, but I know the question is heavier than it sounds. I nod, brushing past her towards the passenger door. “Let’s just get out of here. I fancy a hot chocolate with whipped cream.”

She gives me a small smile at the mention of this. She knows all about my family and our history. When I first moved here, we would have hot chocolate every night for a month until one day… we just didn’t.

She jerks her chin across the parking lot. “He didn’t follow you over here.”

I glance over, catching Axel standing near the edge of the range, talking to Ant, his expression unreadable from this distance. For a split second, his eyes flick towards me, and I swear, a clash of lightning flashes across the sky as the air thickens.

I clear my throat and open the car door, climbing inside. “I don’t care,” I say, lying through my teeth.

Mandy looks at me, giving me her ‘that’s bullshit’ look and smirks. “Oh yeah, sure you don’t.”

She pushes herself off the hood of the car and walks to her door, but the second I close mine, I feel like I’m being swallowed whole as the eyes across the parking lot stare after us.

The drive is quiet, too quiet. The hum of the engine doesn’t soothe me like it usually does. I roll the window down, letting the wind sting my face, hoping the cold will distract me from the fire in my chest.

I stare out at the city streets as we pass through them. Familiar buildings blur past, brick storefronts with faded paint, an alley I once hid in during a rainstorm, and neon signs flicker against the night sky like dying stars.

After we got our hot chocolates, I told Mandy that it was time we went home and not just the temporary home. Our home, in Boston.

Little did I know that Mandy already had our bags packed and they were in the boot waiting for the right moment.

Regret pangs in my chest at the thought of her already planning the return home after the way I spoke to her, but I can’t get rid of the anger, knowing that she lied to me. She wouldn’t have done it for no reason; she would have done it to protect me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mandy asks, breaking the silence.

I turn to her and shrug, “Not really. I’m just glad we’re finally going home.”

She drums her fingers against the wheel. “Me too, but… You know I’ve got your back, right?”

I take this moment to really look at her. Her jaw’s tense, like she’s holding back ten different things she wants to say.

“I know,” I whisper. And I do. Even when I’ve got nothing left, Mandy’s always been there. That’s the difference between her and Axel. One stayed. One didn’t.

We roll to a stop at a set of traffic lights, and she looks over. “You think it’s over?”

The question knocks the breath out of me. “I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “But if he thinks he can just come back and expect forgiveness…” My voice trails off. “He’s going to learn the hard way.”

Mandy smiles, slow and wicked as the lights turn green. “Now that’s the Eva I know.”

I close my eyes for a second and let myself feel the weight of the day.

The sound of Axel’s voice. The look in his eyes.

The way my hands wouldn’t stop shaking, no matter how much I told myself I was fine.

And beneath all of it… the craving. The stupid, reckless, heartbreaking part of me that still wanted to run back into his arms and scream at him all at once.

I hated myself for that.

“We’re nearly there,” Mandy says softly, like she knows I’ve been holding my breath.

The car slows as we pull onto the street where our old apartment sits, tucked between a bookstore and a laundromat that always smells like warm cotton.

The building looks exactly the same, run-down bricks, ivy curling along the crack, the faint buzz of the neon sign from the corner shop next door.

“Home sweet chaos,” Mandy mutters with a half-smile. I don’t smile back. Instead, I stare at the doorway leading to the apartments. Everything we left behind is waiting upstairs inside our own sanctuary. The old photographs, the case files, and no doubt that damn pile of clothes.

Mandy grabs the bags from the boot while I walk ahead, opening the door.

I look towards the lifts and giggle with excitement when I see the out-of-order sign has been removed.

It’s been months since we were able to use them, and for some reason, I see it as a sign from my mother that everything will be okay.

“Thank fuck for that,” Mandy says from next to me as she pushes past to bring the lift down.

Once at our door, Mandy rushes forward. “I’m gonna shower, I feel like I’ve been dragging guilt and gunpowder for the last three days.”

I nod, pushing through the open door, stepping into the living room, letting the door close behind me. The sound is final as it clicks shut, like drawing a line between past and present.

Inside, the air smells stale and untouched.

Dust motes swirl in the light shades as if we’ve disturbed their peace.

Nothing’s changed. Our blankets are still on the couch, the mugs are still sitting on the edge of the sink waiting to be put away, and the stack of books I never finished reading is sitting on the coffee table.

My eyes land on a photo tucked into the mirror frame on the wall opposite. Mandy and I were at Coney Island, both of us laughing with ice cream dripping down our hands. We were so happy that day. No lies. No blood. No secrets.

I sit down slowly, curling my knees to my chest on the couch, and for a moment, I let the quiet settle over me as I listen to the faint sound of water running from the bathroom.

A buzzing sound appears from my bag, and I lean over, pulling my phone free from the side pocket.

I stare at the screen, not moving when I see his name pop up.

The buzzing stops, and I turn my phone off, tossing it on the coffee table.

He doesn’t get to do this. Not now. Not after everything. But deep down, I know it’s not over.