Page 87 of Seeking Shadows

But she is my mother. She always has been.

“But you’re my mommy,” I whisper, my fingers clutching the fabric of her clothes, desperate for her to stay close.

“I know, my love, I know.” She kisses my forehead, and for a moment, I almost forget the fear—until the door creaks open.

Nico stands in the doorway.

A cold knot forms in my stomach, twisting and tightening as though something icy is slowly choking me. He’s here for her. He’s here to take her from me.

“Please don’t take Mom today,” I beg, jumping to my feet.

She holds me tightly, as if trying to shield me, but her eyes are wide with panic. She knows there’s no escaping him.

Nico’s gaze slides over to me. His face is calm, too calm, but his eyes… his eyes are cold and calculating. “Mom?” he repeats, the word tasting wrong in his mouth. “Who said you could call her that?”

I want to answer, but his attention shifts back to her.

The slap cracks through the air like a gunshot.

My mother stumbles back, her hand flying to her cheek, the sharp sting of the blow still echoing in the room.

“You’re hurting her!” I scream, my voice breaking.

“No, Number Two,” Nico sneers. “You just hurt her.”

He grabs her by the hair, yanking it so violently I think her scalp will tear. He slams her head against the wall—once, twice, three times. Each impact is wet and heavy, and I can hear it even before I see the blood running down her face.

My knees give out beneath me. My throat constricts with the need to scream, but no sound comes out.

“Stop!” I sob, choking on the words.

“Don’t beg,” he growls.

He steps towards me, and for a moment, I think I’m next. But my mother throws herself in front of me, a futile shield.

“Nico, you said we’d try again. Focus on me. Here.”

He pauses, eyes flicking to her, calculating, considering.

“Maybe she should learn what her use is.”

My mother clings to him, her hands gripping his arms with a desperate plea. “She’s too young.”

“I decide that,” Nico spits.

Then he lifts her dress.

I watch her face transform, her eyes losing their light as if she’s suddenly somewhere else, somewhere far away. But I’m here. I see. I hear.

I press my hands against my ears, pressing hard, but the sounds still seep through—his heavy breathing, the wet slaps of flesh against flesh, the creaking of the wall as he pulls her away.

I close my eyes.

And then his voice slices through the air.

“If you shed one tear, little girl, I’ll do it all over again.”

I swallow my tears, my throat burning, but I can’t cry. I can’t move.

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