Page 15 of The Maverick (WaterFyre Rising #7)

Now she can drive into Boston to visit me. I can even commute from home. I’m not sure yet. My mind races with various scenarios to save more money. I don’t want my mom to work so hard anymore. She’s been through a lot.

To be honest, I’m surprised she wanted me. I wasn’t conceived because my parents loved each other. My mom was raped. She was a sophomore in college when she was kidnapped and forced into prostitution for several years. She didn’t know she was pregnant until after she escaped with two other women.

When she came home, her mom and dad and uncle were dead.

People said they were in a car accident while searching for her.

But she told me it was probably her kidnappers who wanted to stop her family from looking for her.

Their deaths were also a warning for her.

She had escaped and knew things about their underground work.

My mom is a smart woman, and she also got a scholarship to Harvard University. But she never got to attend. She survived all those years in the prostitution ring by helping the handlers organize their finances.

Now she tries to live a simple life, but I know she’s always suspicious of people and overprotective of me. I understand where she’s coming from, and I try to be as responsible as possible.

Today is a great day, and I want to deliver the good news to my mom.

The Wild Streak is only a few blocks from our apartment.

I slip on my sneakers andjean jacket because the weather is still chilly for late March.

I’m in Providence for the weekend because Mom called a few days ago about a letter waiting for me.

Tucking the letter into my jacket, I head down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk.

Mom still has another hour before her shift ends.

She’s only working half a day so she can spend time with me while I’m home.

The image of the delicious Vietnamese sub on the window makes my stomach growl.

I walk into Saigon Bistro to order my mom her favorite teriyaki Vietnamese sub.

I also get one for myself. Then I enter the hair salon, waving at my mom and her coworkers, who are all friendly women.

“Almost done, baby,” M? says.

“No rush.”

Marge, the owner of the hair salon, emerges from the back room and rushes up to me. “Hi, Vanessa. How’s everything? I hear you’re loving it at UME.”

“I am.”

“You’re making your mom very proud.”

I want to share my good news but decide to wait. Mom needs to be the first person to hear it.

When we leave, I lift the bag. “Guess what I got for us to celebrate?”

“Celebrate what?” Mom turns down a shortcut we often take to get home. It’s an alleyway that cuts through several brick buildings.

“I got accepted to Harvard on a full scholarship, Mom!” I squeal.

Mom throws her arms around me, and we hug for a moment.

Then, someone shoves us, and our bodies slam against the wall.

“Where’s your money?” barks a man with ascar on his lip and a tattoo of a flying pig on his neck. He aims a knife at us. But he’s drunk, and he’s swaying.

His friend with the mustache rakes a gaze down my body. They reek of alcohol. Fear twists my stomach as Mom wraps a protective arm around me.

She digs in her purse and pulls out cash. “Take it. Please let us go.”

The man with the scar takes the money from my mom and shoves it into his pocket.

“Should we let them go, Dillon?”

“After I have fun with the little one, Brody.” Dillon grabs me, pushing me to the ground.

Mom reaches for me, but Brody pulls her back. She screams and scratches at him.

I scream too, but Dillon covers my mouth with his dirty hand.

He tries to unbutton my pants, but I fight him with all my might, scratching his eyes. He wails and slaps me. Pain bursts,but I keep hitting him. My mom screams, and the man cries in pain.

I see broken glass near my hand. I reach for a shard and stab Dillon in the face and neck. Blood splatters everywhere. He wails in pain, gripping the glass shard sticking out of his neck.

Terrified at what I’ll find and the fury on his face, I kick him away. He drops to the ground as blood pools around him.

“Fuck!” Brody freaks and rushes out of sight.

Mom scrambles over to me as my body trembles.

I can’t look away from the dying man on the ground.

Mom tells me, “It’s going to be okay, honey. Breathe.”

I try to breathe, but my mom leaves my side and walks over to the dead man. She yanks out the shard and stabs him afew more times in his neck. More blood spills out. His body doesn’t react to her stabbing because he’s already dead from my attack.

With her bloody hands, she smears the blood onto her shirt and khakis.

“M?,” I cry. “What are you doing?”

“It was self-defense.” She looks at me. Though she appears calm, I know she’s pushing the fear aside for me. “I was defending you from this violent man.” She drops the bloodied shard on the ground.

Sirens blast in the distance.

We don’t know who called the police, but they arrive quickly. Instead of giving us time to explain the situation, they arrest my mom. I tell Officer Caruso that the dead man tried to rape me, and his accomplice ran away.

The officer ignores my statement and says, “Do you know who just died?”

“A criminal,” I say, still worried about my mom.

“He’s Dillon Claude Harris, the heir to Harris Pharmaceutical.”

“I don’t care who he is, Officer Caruso. He just tried to rape me. But you arrested my mom.”

“Someone has to pay for it,” he says, gesturing to the ambulance. “The EMTs will take you to the hospital for a checkup.”

As I walk toward the ambulance, I hear the officer talking to someone on the phone.

“Don’t worry, sir. She’ll pay for her crime.”

That’s when I realize my mom is going to prison for something she didn’t do.

Banging on my door yanked me back to the present moment.

“Be right there.”