Page 3 of Scars Run Deep

“You can still walk away from this.”

I shook my head. “Asher already had to declare war. They’ll come for us now. So either we just sit and wait for that to happen, or we come at them before they can come at us.”

“Defensive becomes offensive.”

“Right. We were forced into a defensive position for way too long as it was. We’re not going back now. No matter the risks.” I snatched up the coffee mug she’d brought out for me. “As long as they’re still fucking well breathing, that is.” I took a big gulp of the coffee. “Hell, even if it’s just me, I’ll see it through.”

“To free her?”

I eyed her over the rim of the mug.

“Your mother,” she clarified.

I looked away and took another couple of gulps.

“You haven’t asked me,” she said.

“Asked you?”

“The question I’m sure you’ve been dying to ask since I revealed that I was close with Valerie.” She held up a hand. “I’ll save you the trouble. Yes. Yes, I believe she can be saved, that the damage they and your father have done to her can actually be undone. Given enough time and care.”

I stilled at her words.

When Asher had first made that promise of freedom to us years back when we’d moved into Hexwood House away from the Infidels stronghold of the City of Torvin, that liberation for me had always included my mom, pulling her out with us. But as time had gone by, as she’d been stuck back there without me as a reprieve, something that she used as hope to hold onto, doubts had crept in and only mounted over the years. Doubts that there’d be anything left of her by the time we achieved what we wanted to, by the time we got out. When Aurora had come into the mix, being who she was and who she was connected to, it had sparked a hope that I hadn’t felt for a while. It had kicked things into high gear, the promise and mere goal actually shifting from an abstract state to something real. And with things finally able to move forward in that area, it had made freeing my mom more than a fantasy. And once something lost its fantasy status, it became reality, and reality was fraught with complications. Those complications I’d overlooked when it had just been an idea. But now it could actually happen, I’d started to worry whether she’d be able to exist outside of being a doll.

Having Olivia here telling me that my mom could actually be pulled out and put back together as a person, rather than the sub-human she’d been treated as for so long… it seemed more than just a little too good to be true.

So, as much as I’d wanted to hear somebody speak those words, I couldn’t accept them.

“You’re not a doctor.”

“I’m not,” she said, taking another sip of her coffee, before leaning forward and telling me, “However, I was trained to withstand brutal attempts at coercive persuasion—brainwashing techniques—and also how to overcome it.”

“And? How does that apply to my mom? She’s been suffering under it for over two decades.”

“I recognized some tools she was applying to minimize some of the damage, to keep a part of herself protected and locked away from their indoctrination and abuse.”

“You saw a real person under there?”

She smiled. “I did.”

“She’s not fully… gone?”

“No.”

I sank back in the chair, trying to absorb it, to reconcile it.

Shoving a hand through my hair, I told her, “Well, you’re certainly good with the distractions.”

“It wasn’t just distraction. You deserve to know your mom will be okay. I’m sure it’s been wearing heavily on you.”

“Why care about that? About what’s wearing on me?” I held up a finger before she could speak. “Ah, right. Ensuring the mental stability of those you’re working with.”

“You’re not my concern when it comes to that.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “What? You know who I am, you would’ve been keeping an eye on everything concerning the Infidels, all of it. Being in the know is the only way to stay steps ahead and ensure you remain hidden and believed dead.”

“All correct. I brought your mom up, because caring and demonstrating the capacity to feel is a tether to our humanity.”

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