“Oh, you mean the dick I’m going to have her suck tonight?”
Son of a—I want to strangle a man right now and watch his eyes bulge out of his head. Watch as he slowly takes his last breath in my hands. I’m shaking. Physically. Mentally.
My blood is on fire, but then I see Asher in the background, giving me a thumbs-up. “You’ll have it by tonight,” I say, cutting the call.
Please tell me that prick calling was able to help Asher track him.
“After this, send Jacob ten million to his Northshore account from one of the Serpents’ funds.”
“I’m not sendingJacobof all people money,” John retorts.
This fat bastard needs to get the fuck away from me. He’s pushing my last nerve and once it snaps, it snaps. “Well, how about this? If you don’t send it and he kills her for it, I will make it my personal mission to slaughter everyone inside of this group who means something.”
“Fuck, the signal’s gone.” Asher types faster than I’ve ever seen him type before, cutting the tension-filled conversation between John and me. “Fuck.”
“The signal’s gone? What kind of hacker are you?!”
“Hold on, I have a trick up my sleeve.”
He starts typing again, and I pray. I don’t even know if I believe in God, but I pray. My leg bounces so fast it shakes my whole body with it. “C’mon, c’mon.”
Chapter 29
AMELIA
Before I passed out at the motel, I thought I was going to see my mom soon, but I never imagined likethis.
She’s here. In front of me.Alive.
I must have taken too many sedatives. I’m hallucinating—I have to be. Either that or it’s a ghost. Why is my mind playing tricks on me?
She looks at me, her eyes widening with recognition. Would a ghost do that? I never really paid attention to those ghost hunter shows, mainly had them on for background noise.
“I know what you’re thinking, Melly, and it’s me.”
Melly?
A tear streams down my face. I haven’t heard her call me that since my last day of sixth grade, the morning of the accident. Hearing it is like a key turning in a lock, opening up a floodgate of memories and emotions.
It’s… really her.
More tears well up as I struggle to comprehend the reality of her presence. I went to her funeral. I’ve visited her grave countless times. Oh my God, it was a closed casket service. Is she in some kind of witness protection program? Who fakes a whole funeral?
She places the tray on the small bedside table and reaches out to touch my face, her fingers trembling.
“How?” My voice breaks. “How are you here? Where have you been all this time?”
She sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I know. I know everything you’re feeling right now, believe me. It’s a long story.”
I lift my hand, the chain clinking. “I’m not going anywhere, clearly. I have time to hear it, if you don’t mind.”
She takes a deep breath. “Your father… got increasingly worse over time. Mentally and physically. I was trying to hatch a plan to get us out. I went to a women’s abuse center for help, and I met someone there. I hadn’t planned to fall in love, but I did. Your father found out. I overheard him on a call when he thought I was out getting groceries. He was speaking about a plan to…kill me.”
My heart pounds in my chest as her words sink in. “Dad… tried to kill you? You fell in love with someone else?”
“Yes,” her voice shakes. “I did the only thing I could think to do—I went to your dad’s boss, John. He was the only one I knew who could help. Ultimately, I decided I’d be safest faking my death. So he helped me do that.”
John knew this whole time she was alive?