Page 77 of A Killing Cold

So she’d fought back, before he hurt her. And then he came for me, and when he found me, he grabbed my hand and he was so angry—

But it wasn’t anger. I’d made the same mistake with Connor. It wasn’t anger, but fear.

I’m not supposed to go in.

I can see that door again. See it swinging open, just enough to peer through.

The girl opens the door two inches, no more. She knows she’s not meant to be here. She knows she’s not meant to see.

“Is that enough?” her mother asks.

“We need to get all of it,” a voice replies.

“It won’t matter.”

“It might.”

“You don’t know what he’s like. You don’t know how these things work.”

“So you’re just going to give up?”

“I have nowhere to go.”

“Let me help you, Mallory,” Liam says. And then he looks up and sees her, and smiles. “Hey, Teddy.”

“It wasn’t him,” I whisper, my gaze unfocused. “It wasn’t him at all. He was trying to help.” I got it wrong. I was afraid, but not of Liam Dalton.

“Theo,” Connor says slowly, “what Mallory and my father did was awful, but it wasn’t just because he was cheating on Mom. I didn’t find it out until much later. It was part of why Nick and Mom—why they got so close, after. Commiserating.”

“Nick,” I repeat, stunned.

“Mallory was living with him when she and Dad got together,” Connor says.

Nick. He’d known her, too. Known me. I thought it was odd, but I didn’t think it through. And Trevor—his cracks about disloyalty running in the family. He wasn’t just talking about his father cheating on his mother. He was talking about Liam betraying Nick.

Nick, who saw that photo in my pocket. Who saw the birthmarks on my neck and knows exactly who I am. Knows that I’ve been asking all the questions that I shouldn’t.

Connor is still talking. “When Alexis showed me those photos, I thought it didn’t make any sense. Why would Dad have had them if those bruises were his fault? Unless he was holding on to them for her. Nick’s always had anger issues. Mom used to think I butted heads with him because I didn’t want him replacing Dad, but I swear I always felt like he hated me.”

I feel numb. I touch the tips of my fingertips to my face, chasing any sensation at all.

“Whatexactlydo you remember?” Connor asks.

I close my eyes. And I tell him.

34

The girl knows how to hide. She knows how to stay quiet. When the monster is angry, you do not run; you do not make a sound.

The door bursts open. A beast steps into the room—a beast with the shape of a man, and antlers springing from his temples—and she screams—

But it’s only Liam. Not the monster at all.

“There you are, love. Come on. We have to go,” Liam says, but she’s too scared to move. He looks terrifying, half his face masked with fresh blood that flows from a gash at his temple. He leans down, grabs her wrist, and hauls her upright. He starts to pull her toward the door. She flings herself back and he stops, panting for breath. His eyes are filled with worry, but he drops to one knee and puts his hands on her shoulders.

“Listen to me, Teddy. I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?” he asks. The girl nods. “We have to run. We have to run and not stop until I say so. Don’t look back and don’t slow down. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” she whispers. Then, “Where’s Mama?”

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