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Chapter Twenty Two

Ren

“ I t’s beautiful around here.” She takes a deep breath out the window, her hair dancing in the wind as I drive. The night went ridiculously smooth, probably because it was fate for us to meet. She came back to find me... I could laugh. I was always meant to be hers—only hers. We promised.

“So beautiful.” The word scrapes against my memory like a blade across bone. My throat tightens. Vivian’s voice rattles in my head, the words triggering my mother’s voice as if I needed more confirmation, more signs that she has come back from the dead to haunt me, from her grave to my gut—poison, whispers, rot and perfume. From the corner of my eyes, I catch her staring. “You look so familiar,” she whispers, and I can feel the air shift.

There it is. The awareness. Her body knows before her mind can catch up.

Good reason to be, but I don’t need her to fight me now. Not when we are so close. We are deeps in the woods with no neighbors, really no one to hear her scream. “I have a familiar face,” I tease, trying to relax her, “I didn’t even know this existed back here.”

I look at her for a moment, fixing my face to match with one that is warm and inviting. “No one really did, it’s been in the family, and after my divorce, I decided to move out here”

The lie comes smooth. Practiced. Sweet as venom. The mention of that word is an instant potion. Vivian relaxes, the atmosphere going back to normal, and she smiles as she looks up at the moon.

“Sometimes, it is better to start over. I’ve been wondering if I should go.” She speaks like she’s already halfway gone, floating like a ghost who’s unaware of her own death. Her words should pull something out of me, but truthfully, they mean nothing. I feel nothing but anticipation, just as I did back then. The hunger beneath my skin rises—twisting, alive, pulsing almost like a second heart. I will once again be inside her, but not as before. I smile again knowing we are getting closer. “I hope you’re ready for the best meal of your life.”

She smiles before leaning over and placing a kiss on my cheek. “It better be worth coming to the house of a complete stranger in the middle of nowhere.”

I look at her. “It’s to die for,” I say with a wink before returning my eyes to the road, and my smile widens when I see the cabin. “We’re here.”

“It’s nice and cozy,” she says nervously as I pull in and park the SUV. Immediately, I notice tire marks on the mud and a light on in my room.

My gut twists. That light shouldn’t be on. No one should’ve touched that room. My jaw clenches and my hand tightens on the steering wheel. “ Everything okay?”

I compose myself taking a deep breath in. “Yeah, I forgot to turn the lights off again. It happens a lot, and sometimes it makes me think she’s here.” An academy-level performance and she’s eating it up. Vivian places her hand on my thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.

“It’s like that for me, too. Small things like garbage or measurements.” She takes a deep breath in, trying to control the quiver in her voice while pushing her short onyx strands behind ear.

“It’s hard to grieve someone who’s still alive.”

That line should hurt. It doesn’t. It stings, but only because it reminds me of how much of me died with her.

“Yes, it is.”

“Should we go inside?” she asks timidly as if she’s helping me go over the finish line rather than helping me dig her grave. “Sure.”

We both get out of the SUV, and once outside I can hear the screams.

“REN!” Byron shouts with his voice breaking a little, and my body tenses as I look over to Vivian as her body tenses and her dark brown eyes widen, looking even paler than her normal milky complexion.

“I know who you are.” Her voice wavers, cracking like a frozen branch under pressure.

“Oops,” I say with a warm smile. “I lied.”

Tears fill her eyes, her breathing picks up, and right on queue, she screams.

It’s delicious. Panic paints her beautifully.

Removing the baseball cap, I toss it to the side, no longer needing to hide. “You should have known.” I sneer looking at the woman before me, dressed in red, her favorite color.

“I know who you are?”

“And I you.” I close the distance, gripping her arms firmly and placing a tender kiss on her forehead. “Mother.”

But before she can fool me, I silence her—my hand clamping over her mouth—and I force her to walk toward the cabin. Her body resists. Futile. Still, she fights. Much like my Thorn.

“Walk.”

She begins to cooperate, but as we near the door, her body stiffens—fear paralyzing her. And I’m tired of this.

Byron is losing his shit, still screaming my name, so I toss her over my shoulder. Her screams echo into the night, but no one will come to her rescue. No one will grant her mercy. I reach the door—unlocked. My jaw clenches.

I always lock the door. I always lock the door. My nose flares. I know who was here. But that’s a problem for later.

Storming down the hall—

“I’m not your mother!” Vivian shrieks, punching my back with all her might.

“Scream all you want.” I smirk. “I welcome it.”

She sobs, her fists falling flat against my back. I pull the key from my pocket and unlock the door with one hand, shoving it open.

“Ren,” Byron breathes.

The room is destroyed. Torn apart. And Byron looks just as pathetic and shredded as this room. He’s on his knees, his eyes wide and broken. I throw her into the room causing her to hit the floor with a thud.

“Ow,” she yelps, but I ignore her and focus on my bleeding Thorn. “Byron.”

“I’ll do anything...” Byron starts, crawling toward me. “Anything, but let her go.”

For a moment, I think he means Vivian. But no. That’s not an option. Mother has come back from the dead to haunt me but she can’t have me. Not anymore.

And now I see it. I understand it. My heart races. My lips curl into a smile. I feel warm.

He’s waiting for me. On his knees. For me.

But I compose myself.

“Why are you screaming?” I build up the wall, the one that’s kept me sane. Safe. I pull myself back in.

“You ruined something once again,” I snap, slapping him across the face. “You’ll do anything? Then here’s your chance.”

I walk toward Vivian, grabbing her by the hair. “Please.” She claws at my hand, sobbing—

“Let me go... please—“ Still ignoring her pleas, I toss her toward Byron.

One word. One demand.

“Create.”

Byron understands. His eyes shift first to her, then to me. “Gabriela,” he whispers so softly I’m sure Vivian couldn’t even hear her own death sentence.

But it will be beautiful. Because my ghost will become his. My trauma will mirror his own and we will become one. I perfected what my mother failed to do with me. She made me beneath her. But this… this is equal.

We will be on the same footing, my Thorn and I.