Page 31 of Depraved

"Listen carefully, you sanctimonious bitch," Layla snarled, her face inches from Sarah's. "The only reason you're still breathing is because you helped keep my mother safe. But if you ever speak to me like that again, I'll cut out your tongue and feed it to you. Are we clear?"

Sarah's eyes were wide with fear, but to her credit, she managed a defiant glare. "Crystal," she choked out.

Layla held her there for a moment longer before releasing her grip. Sarah slumped against the wall, gasping for air.

"Now," Layla said, her voice deceptively calm. "Where is my mother?"

Before Sarah could answer, a soft voice came from inside the cabin. "Layla? Is that you?"

We all turned to see an older woman standing in the doorway, her hand pressed to her mouth in shock. The resemblance to Layla was unmistakable—the same high cheekbones, the same full lips. But where Layla's hazel eyes held a hardness born of years of violence, Claudia's brown ones were innocent and confused.

Layla froze, her eyes locked on the woman in the doorway. For a moment, she looked almost vulnerable, like the lost little girl she must have been all those years ago. Then her walls slammed back into place, her expression carefully neutral as she straightened her shoulders.

"Hi, mom," Layla said, her voice steady despite the tremor I saw in her hands.

Claudia took a hesitant step forward, her eyes drinking in every detail of her daughter's face. "Oh my God," she breathed. "It's really you. My baby girl..."

She reached out, her fingers trembling as they hovered inches from Layla's cheek. Layla flinched almost imperceptibly, but held her ground.

"You’re so beautiful," Claudia whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I thought you were dead for so many years.”

Her voice broke on a sob as she finally closed the distance between them, pulling Layla into a fierce embrace. Layla stood rigid in her mother's arms, her own hands clenched at her sides. I could see the conflict there—the urge to melt into her mother's embrace battling against two decades of pain and mistrust.

Layla stood rigid for several long moments, until slowly, hesitantly, her arms came up to return the hug. A choked sob escaped Claudia as she clutched her daughter tighter, burying her face in her hair. "My baby," she whispered. "My beautiful girl. I've missed you so much."

I felt like an intruder witnessing such a raw, intimate moment. Glancing around, I saw similar discomfort on the faces of our companions. Even Sarah looked vaguely uncomfortable, though that may have been due to the forming bruises on her throat.

After what felt like an eternity, Layla gently extracted herself from her mother's arms. Her eyes were suspiciously bright, but her voice was steady as she said, "We should go inside. It's not safe out here."

Claudia nodded, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. "Of course, of course. Please, all of you come in."

Claudia ledus into a cozy living room, gesturing for us to sit. Layla remained standing, her eyes darting around the space as if searching for potential threats. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

"Can I get anyone something to drink?" Claudia asked, her voice trembling slightly. “We have coffee, tea, water..."

"We're fine," Layla cut her off, not unkindly. "Thank you."

An awkward silence fell over the room. Claudia fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, her eyes never leaving Layla's face. For her part, Layla seemed to be struggling to find words.

I cleared my throat, unable to bear the tension any longer. "So, Mrs. Ro?u, how are you enjoying your little woodland getaway? Scenic views, fresh air, constant fear of assassination—all the makings of a lovely vacation."

Claudia blinked at me, clearly thrown. "I... it's been... overwhelming," she managed.

Layla shot me a glare, but I caught the hint of gratitude in her eyes. "Mom," she said, her voice softer than I'd ever heard it. "I'm not sure how muchGagetold you..." Her voice just barely stuttered on his name, but she recovered fast.

"They said you were involved with some dangerous people," Claudia replied hesitantly. “Layla, you’re so lucky to even be alive.”

"Lucky? No, Mom. Luck had nothing to do with it. I survived because I had to become the most dangerous person in the room."

Claudia paled slightly. "What exactly do you mean?"

The truth would likely shatter whatever idealized image Claudia had managed to hold onto of her long-lost daughter. But lies and half-truths would only breed more pain down the line.

"Maybe we should give them some privacy," Gage suggested, moving towards the door that probably led to a kitchen.

Layla's head snapped up, her eyes locking onto him with laser focus. "You stay right where you are," she growled. "You don't get to play the concerned friend, not after what you did."

Gage flinched, but held his ground. "I know you hate me. You have every right to. But right now, this isn't about us. It's about you and your mother."

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