Page 22 of Property of Chaos

“Good.” Her upper lip crinkles as she stares at the open back door. “I hate that I have to come here if I want to see you at work. Anyway.” She shakes her head clear and thrusts her phone onto the table beside the chairs I’ve yet to take down. “She accepted. It’s her.”

Swear to God, my fucking heart stops beating for a whole second.Easy now.Not the stylish exit from this life I had in mind. “How can you be so sure?”

“I straight up asked if she’s related to him.” She grins, super proud of herself.

“You the fuck what?” My fingers tighten into the front of my T-shirt. “Did she find that weird?”

“Not really. I came up with this whole backstory.” Marianna spreads her hands in a rainbow. “Said we’d met a few months back, that we’d hooked up a few times, and now he wanted me to move in with him, but I had this weird feeling about it, so I was doing background checks on the guy before I committed.”

“You sound unhinged.” I manage a small smile.

“Well, I’d have to be to want to hook up with him, right?” Her eyes go wider as though unsure she assumes right.

I nod, nudging the phone back toward her. “You aren’t wrong.” My gaze fixes on the screen as it fades to black. “Is she…?” My stomach sours.

“I didn’t ask about your mom,” Marianna says softly as she lifts a chair off the adjacent table and sets it on the floor. “That would have seemed weird.”

“No. I meant— Never mind.” I may not have spoken to my aunt in well over a decade, but I never realized until now how much of a comfort it was to know, on some subconscious level, that I had at least one relative who was unaffected byhislies. The idea of her no longer being free of his influence plucks at something painful in my heart.I can’t be the only one.“So, what now? I just send a friend request myself so I can message her?”

Marianna’s smile turns into a lip-biting grimace. “See. That’s the thing.”

I set a hand on the table to stop myself from buckling.

“She got concerned when I spun the story about him wanting me to move in. Didn’t want to elaborate via Messenger on why, so she offered to talk face-to-face.”

A million scenarios run through my mind. What if Marianna didn’t talk to my aunt? What if it’shimusing my aunt’s profile? What if she surrendered everything to him and lives there now, too?Shit.

“Stop it,” Marianna snaps. “I can see the fucking spiral spinning out in your fucking eyes. Spill.”

“It could be a trap,” I manage to whisper. “Maybe it isn’t her.”

“That’s for me to find out, not you. Okay?” She ducks her head, pinning me with a stern glare from beneath her perfectly styled eyebrows. “I wouldn’t bring you into this if I felt it was unsafe.”

“It is unsafe,” I exclaim, abandoning the cloth in favor of walking out my spiking anxiety. “You don’t understand, Marianna. If you arrange to meet up and it turns out to be him, you’re putting yourself at risk. You can’t go alone.”

“Who said I’m going anywhere?”

“What?” I spin and frown at her. “What do you mean?”

“Your aunty is coming here.” Marianna puts her hands together in a prayer position beneath her chin, lips rolled together.

“She wh—“ My fucking voice fails me, words lodged in my throat as Theresa returns via the back door.This was such a bad idea. So bad.

“You.” Theresa’s disgusted accusation sails across the room to an unfazed Marianna.

“Yes, me,” my best friend states, gaze lazy as she retrieves her phone from the table. “How are you, Theresa? Long days on your feet aren’t too much for your aging joints, are they?”

“No worse than the bed sores you’ve earned from spending so much time on your back.”

The women glare at one another. I’ve never asked why they hate each other, but I get the feeling I probably should endeavor to learn their backstory. At least before one of them knifes the other in the back alley.

“You okay, Nessie?” Theresa shakes out a new bin liner, peeking at me between the coffee machine and register as she shoves it into place.

I open my mouth to answer, yet I don’t have it in me to lie. I can’t be assed having to explain the truth either. Which leaves me in a weird rock and a hard place scenario as I tug at the hem of my T-shirt, stretching the fabric.

“What did you do to her?” Theresa sweeps through the swing door, beelining for Marianna.

My friend shoves out of her seat with such urgency that the legs screech across the floor. “Easy on. You know I can afford a better lawyer than you.”

---