Page 205 of The Sinner's Bargain

It had been her.

I would never tell anyone, but I had felt her in my panic. In that gripping moment of absolute terror as I searched for Naya and wondered if Brixton’s ridiculous ambush really had been a trick to keep me distracted. I had been ready to go out, grab the fucker by the neck, and peel off patches of skin until he told me where she was, when I heard the squeak.

The distinct rub of someone’s finger against glass.

The same sound Naya had made in the office weeks before.

I tore after it, ignoring Cyrus calling after me. I followed the row of windows leading to the conservatory, ears straining.

Far below in the murky pool of shadows, I heard it again.

Faint.

Unmistakable.

My boots had thundered down the marble steps. My head tried to justify why Naya would be there in so much darkness when she couldn’t turn the lamp off at night. I could only think maybe she’d gotten scared and gone to hide in the greenhouse with the wasted remains of all the dead plants no one had checked on in years.

But a pale figure moved in the opposite direction. It flickered so quickly that even with the snap of my neck in the direction of the old storage area, it was already gone.

I hadn’t paused to consider I was seeing things when I changed direction and scrambled towards the cramped, dark steps, even while my brain tried to justify the improbability of Naya ever making the trip down willingly.

Then I saw the slipper.

Naya’s little flat lying discarded on the step.

That was all the evidence I needed to throw myself down the rest of the steps into the dank cellar no one had touched in years. I was only barely aware of Cyrus at my heels as we stood staring at the abandoned crates of overstock. We circled the mound, and I was beginning to think I missed something when I saw the other shoe tipped on its side in the dirt by a wall.

It had taken me and Cyrus a while to find the switch. To press the brick and send the wall rolling back on invisible tracks. My relief at seeing Naya right there, right in front of me, was short-lived by the tears ravaging her cheeks and the vomit soaked down her front. Oliver stood behind her and while that would have been a comfort—maybe they’d been hiding together, and the door closed and they couldn’t escape but that too faded when she started towards me and he stopped her. When he put the needle against her neck and made her bleed.

I sighed and traced my mother’s beautiful face again.

“You know what I have to do now. I can’t let him live, Mom. I’m sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

She didn’t speak.

She never could again because Oliver had killed her because she’d found his twisted laboratory. He’d taken her from me. Her. Elena. Constance. Danika. Anne. Penelope. Almost Naya. He had systematically destroyed any happiness I could have had.

But he was still her brother. I know she had loved him, and he had killed her.

A gentle weight pressed into my shoulder, and I grimaced over getting caught.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I was just going for a walk to clear my head,” I said, turning to face Naya.

The corridor sat empty, painted the soft blue of midnight and silent.

My chest tightened and something hot and barbed prickled my throat.

“Mom?”

More silence, but I felt her warmth and could almost sense the subtle hint of her perfume fading already.

I gritted my teeth against the ache, against the pulse of blood in my ears, and the tears in my eyes. I took a deep breath to remind myself I had a job.

“I love you,” I whispered to the emptiness and waited.

Just a second.

Just in case.

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