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Seeing Mum was so much harder than I’d expected, especially since it was goodbye. She’d forget about our visit by the morning, which gave me a sense of peace as Mia and I walked out of Birch Tree Manor to the car.
“Your mom seems like a good person,” Mia threw into the air once we were back on the main roads toward the airport, and I nodded. She hadn’t spoken in twenty minutes, and this small compliment about the woman who raised me was only a gateway into more questions about the cabin fire, and the two bodies my mum mentioned.
I’d feared Mia would bring up the fact that it was my mum’s cabin she’d lit on fire. The cabin where my mum and dad spent memories during the holidays. At least she spared the poor woman of that news, if my mum would’ve even remembered. Still, Mia had held her tongue, but her heavy stare had been hard to ignore. Thankfully, Mum quickly changed the subject, lifting the tension.
Mum had that effect on people. I was going to miss her.
At the corner of my eye, Mia shook her head, unable to sit still. “How could there have been two deaths, Ethan? I don’t understand. Do they think we’re dead? That doesn’t make sense. If we’re here, then whose bodies did they find?”
There it is. The pressure of Mia’s questions was as if she were a thousand pounds and sitting in my lap, pouring cement down my throat. It was in the fifties outside, but I still rolled down the window, needing more air in the stifling space.
“Don’t ignore me. No more secrets, remember?”
It seemed my puppet cut another string, and I was losing control of her. She was turned in her seat, facing me with her hands waving out in front of her as I kept my attention on the road. The questions kept coming, and I couldn’t piece together an explanation that didn’t make me sound any less of a monster. Only twenty minutes left until we were at Liverpool airport, and if I couldn’t contain this problem, I didn’t know how I’d be able to get her on the plane compliantly.
A Frankie & Be I closed my eyes, taking in as much oxygen as my lungs would allow before looking into her daunting brown eyes. Then I released it, slow and steady. “Do you remember the story I told you about with Ashlyn?” Mia impatiently nodded. “How does she have anything to do with this?” “Everything. I couldn’t let them live, not after what they did. The two bodies they found in the fire were Ashlyn’s father and his mate. I killed them both. For a number of reasons.” An abrupt pause played out between the two of us. Her eyes froze, locked on mine. I waited for a reaction, more than the drawn-out stare. Possibly for her to scream for help or try to escape from the car. If Mia wanted complete honesty, I should’ve also told her the apartment we slept in the past couple of nights was Ashlyn’s dead father’s too, but that would have taken it too far, and she hadn’t specifically asked. Mia pulled her hand from my grasp and looked at me as if she were seeing me for the first time. “Mia,” I reached for her hand, and she jerked it away. My fingers pushed through my hair. I needed to pull us back to where we were thirty seconds before. “Talk to me.” Her chin lifted, studying my every move, which was disappointing. She was losing the little faith she had left in me. “What were your reasons?” I exhaled. Perhaps not. Mia wanted to hear me out. This was good. Taking a dive, I reached for her lap, and she didn’t move. My palm landed between her legs, and I gripped her tiny thigh in one hand, giving her the touch she needed to get her through my next confession. Her muscles relaxed, and I continued, “The most important reason was for Ashlyn. They left her there to die to save themselves. What kind of father does that, Jett?” A sore spot Mia had understood well, and she shook her head, processing. I saw it in her eyes, the way she was trying to work the problem in her head. “Second, I needed to test the drug to carry out my revenge at Dolor. But they deserved it. They all fucking deserved it.” My hand was practically begging at this point, having a mind of its own and moving underneath hoodie to find skin. She just needed to let me in. Then we would be fine. My palm rested over her hip, and I gave her a gentle squeeze. Mia released a shallow breath. “How many people have you killed?” It was a simple question, one with a number for an answer. “You have to believe me when I say I don’t take the lives of people who don’t deserve it.” “Ethan,” her voice scattered, “how many?” I sucked in a breath and brushed my thumb across her stomach. “Six.” I’d be able to name them all too, and every person in their immediate family, their addresses, how they preferred their tea … “Six?” she laughed, but it was empty, and I’d lost her, “You’re a certified serial killer, you do know that right?” she looked around the cabin of the car, eyes bugging out, “I don’t know why the extent of this situation didn’t hit me before, but you’re a serial killer. I’m actually on the run with you, a serial killer. You’re a serial killer, Ethan! You kill people. People! More than one! You’ve murdered people.” No matter how many times she’d said it, it didn’t change anything. “Six,” I confirmed. “Six lives who deserved it.” “So, that makes it okay?” “I didn’t say that.” I’d never asked for this. Livy’s murder had taught me a lot. Anyone could be capable of anything when grief mixed with anger. In my case, a ruthless monster was born. Mia side-eyed me almost as if she couldn’t look at me, but wanted to make sure she knew where my other hand was at all times. I still had one latched to her hip to keep us co “This is a lot.” A tear slipped from her eye, and I leaned over to catch it with my thumb. “I know.” Two steps forward, ten steps back. I scratched my jaw, a nervous habit, wishing I could use my hands to untangle all her worries. Then she quietly added, “Did you feel it? The silence?” My brows pinched together. “What do you mean?” “Never mind,” she muttered, looking off into the car park. “Let’s have breakfast, all right? Take this slow. You can ask me anything you want.”
Mia had ordered the pancakes with chocolate and banana. She’d moaned with every bite, eyelids fluttering, and I decided her psych file was incorrect. It wasn’t touching that calmed her. It was food. In seconds, she cleared her plate as if she hadn’t eaten in two years.
