Page 103 of Blitz'd

I haveno idea what the fuck my mother is doing standing in front of my apartment door, but it draws me up short. If there were any kind of actual security here, I’d tell them to make sure she wasn’t allowed in. There aren’t even cameras. This place isn’t a shithole, but it’s not fancy either.

My fingers clench in irritation on my backpack—running into her right out of class wasn’t on my agenda for the day. I wanted to take a shower, maybe call Zander and ask him to come over.

I wanted?—

“Kerian doesn’t live here.” Asher’s voice catches me off guard. It isn’t because he’s lying… It’s because the lie sounds sosmooth. Usually I can tell when people are full of it, because I have to put on that bullshit mask myself more often than not so the world doesn’t see how empty I feel inside.

But…

If I didn’tknowAsher, I wouldn’t have been able to tell. I glance around the corner at the expression on his face and Irecognizeit.

Fuck.

He’s a little too good at this.

“I know he lives here. I wasjusthere.” Mom’s voice is that softer sound it takes on when Dad’s not around. Even a little apologetic. She’s probably here to try to talk me into coming back to them, and I know that sheprobablymeans it. It doesn’t matter.

I told her I was done, and I meant it. The weight that has lifted from my chest since that day, even with the pain that came with it…

It meant something.

I’m not going back.

Asher’s voice pulls me back to the conflict in front of me as he leans against the doorframe, his head cocked to the side so I can see his expression perfectly. “Listen, I don’t care where you’ve been before. And maybe I recognize you. Maybe I’ve seen you here a few times. Maybe I’ve seen the shit that Kerian went through whenever you and your husband showed up.” Her face falls at the same time my breath catches in my chest.

I didn’t think he was paying that much attention.

Guess I was wrong.

“My son?—”

“Doesn’t. Live. Here.” Asher cuts her off, and this time his voice has taken on a new tone.

Cold.

Uncaring.

Calculating.

My mom’s eyes widen the same way mine do. Whatever mask of indifference Asher had on before, it’s dropped now for an expression full of pure contempt and disgust.

“He…”

“Isn’t here. If you come back…” He leans in close, and his voice drops to a low whisper. It’s a damn near purr. “I can’t promise you’ll go home to that shitbag husband of yours. Now fuck off.”

My jaw drops.

Have I been living with a psychopath this entire time and didn’t realize it?

Hm.

“I… I should report you to the front office.” She says it in a weak voice, and a small part of my chest constricts.

Weak.

My mother has always been weak—she’s always been ready to roll over at the first sign of trouble. If I needed more proof, it’s here.

There was never a world where she’d fight for me—not against Dad, and apparently not against Asher either.

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