Page 22 of Thorns of Blood

“I’m waiting for the ocean images to come back on.”

“We live by the ocean,” I reminded her softly.

She shrugged. “I can’t see it from here.”

God, I hated that Amara was confined to this room, this compound, this fucking country. It felt like déjà vu. My mother had made us prisoners in our own home, and the last thing I wanted was to do the same to Amara.

As soon as she was better, I’d take her far away from here. We’d start a new life, maybe this time we’d even succeed in finding some normalcy.

“Want to go for a stroll?” I offered, although I knew it wasn’t wise with her surgery merely hours away. But if that’s what she wanted, I’d scoop her frail body into my arms and I’d walk the entire planet, to the edge of the earth.

“You think we’ll learn how to swim one day?” she asked instead, meeting my gaze. It always gutted me to see maturity beyond her age in those blue eyes of hers. No five-year-old should ever experience as much pain as she had.

“I know it,” I promised her. She’d learn how to drive and do all the normal things that we had missed out on—as soon as she was healthy.

“Promise?”

I pressed my lips to her forehead. “I promise.”

The light in her Mediterranean gaze flickered, and I smiled. It was rare to see her eyes bright, but whenever I did, it stole my breath from my lungs.

“I can’t wait.” I was about to get up when her soft voice stopped me. “Could I see their picture again?”

There was no misunderstanding what she was talking about. There was only one that we ever shared, and it was of her birth parents.

I reached for my phone and scrolled through the images—mostly of Amara through the years— until I found it. Emory DiLustro and Killian Cullen.

“Here,” I murmured softly, placing my phone in her tiny, weak hands, helping her hold it upright. “Your papa’s name is Killian and your mama’s name is?—”

“Emory,” she finished.

“That’s right.”

“I like looking at them,” she murmured, her eyes getting droopy. “It makes me feel warm inside. Like when you hug me.”

I swallowed, determined not to let my fear rule me completely.

Deep down, I wished Amara were truly mine. My biological daughter, without the threat of having her taken from me.

To this day, I never could comprehend what drove me to tell her about Emory and Killian. Maybe it was the hope that if something happened to me, she’d find her way to them and she wouldn’t be alone in this world.

“I know,” I said. “I feel the same way when I look at you. It’s love.”I think. Mothers were supposed to know everything, yet I often found myself at a loss when it came to the emotions that came to others naturally.

“I love you too, Mother Liana.”

I got to my feet and pressed one more kiss to her cheek. “Okay, I’m going to take a shower and then I’ll be right back. Before the doctor gets started.”

Leaving the room, I made my way down the hallway to where I’d put Emory. She was on the same floor but in a different wing of the house. Once I arrived there, I peered through the small glass window on the door to find my captive asleep.

In the past week, the events that’d led me here were put in motion. I reached out to Atticus Popov and promised him information he so desperately wanted, in exchange for Emory DiLustro.

Atticus delivered, and so did I.

The events that would make me or break me were about to unfold, and I couldn’t help but feel slightly anxious about it. I couldn’t fathom life without Amara, but I also knew if Emory died on that table, the Kingpins of the Syndicate—her brother and cousins—would come after me. Not to mention Emory’s husband. We’d have to hide and possibly live on the run.

But then, hiding had been our life. At least this way, Amara would be healthy.

With a steel determination, I unlocked the door with a soft click and opened it for my prisoner to find us. Then I headed to get ready for my daughter’s surgery.