Page 61 of Shattered Vows

“That must have been really difficult,” she says.

“It was honestly fine until I reached my teens. I guess I didn’t know any better, but then when I started watching certain TV shows and surfing the internet, I realized there was this whole world out there I was missing out on. But at the same time, I was afraid of the idea of experiencing it.”

Cinder slides our drinks in front of us.

“Thanks,” I say before taking a sip of mine.

Before she can answer, one of the guys at the end of the bar calls, “Hey, sweet tits, get yer ass down here and fill me up.” He raises his beer mug.

My eyes widen.

“You should kick them out,” Anabelle says in a low voice.

“Their bark is bigger than their bite, believe me. And they tip well.” She winks before heading to the end of the bar.

“Are all guys like that?” I ask Anabelle. Maybe my mom was right about most men. Perhaps Kol and his brothers are the exception and not the rule.

Anabelle shakes her head. “Not at all. But alcohol doesn’t usually bring out the best in people.”

I nod, leaning in to take another sip of my drink. “So what is this place? It’s kind of…”

“Weird?” Anabelle laughs. “Yeah, it’s not your typical dive bar, that’s for sure. Local urban legend is that the woman who owns it is a witch.”

I blink rapidly. “Really?”

She nods. “Yeah. She’s not really here anymore because she’s older. Mostly has other people do the day-to-day for her now.”

“Do you think she’s a witch?”

Anabelle considers it while she sips on her spritzer. “Not sure. It’s possible, I guess. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that has happened around here.”

I want to ask what she means, but I get the sense she’ll probably blow me off if I do. Maybe if we become closer, in time I’ll be comfortable digging a little more.

We chat for a while, Anabelle telling me about her life, where she went to college and how she came to be in Asher Voss’s orbit. Eventually I need to pee.

I slip off the stool. “I have to go to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” Anabelle pulls her phone from her purse as I set off toward the hallway that has the restroom sign above it.

I use the facilities, and as I wash my hands, someone says my name. I look into the mirror to see who would know me here. My stomach drops.

Because it’s my mother.

“Mom!” I wheel around and face her, pulling her into a hug. “What are you doing here?”

When I draw back, she’s looking somewhat frantic. “We have to go. Now.” She grips my arm, but I yank it free.

“Go? Go where?”

“Away from him. Now let’s go.” She heads toward the door.

“I’m not going anywhere, Mom. I don’t want to.”

She whips around to face me, hurt and anger glowing. “I knew he’d sink his claws into you. He’s brainwashed you.”

“He has not.”

“You think you can handle someone like him? He’s evil. Look at all the people he’s killed—in the military, his own father, probably his mother, and who knows who else.”

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