Page 102 of Thorns of Deceit
In this box, you’ll find everything you need to help you disappear: money, documents, contacts for your new life.
Be careful who you trust.
Hide in plain sight.
You’re stronger than you think.
Please know that you’ve made me so proud. More than you think.
Love you so much,
Mom
The paper blurred as my tears fell onto the ink. I pressed the note against my chest, wishing it could still be warm from her hands.
For a long time, I just stood there, staring at the note. I wanted to crumble, to sink to the floor and let the weight of everything crush me. But I couldn’t. There’d be time for that later.
I tucked the letter and all its contents into the bag, and then I slipped outside.
It was my first step toward turning invisible.
FORTY
RAVEN
Present
Iswear, cooking would be the death of me one day. Whatever I put on the stove always seemed hell-bent on revenge.
“What possessed me to even try again?” I muttered, blinking against the sting of smoke. It curled up from the pan in ghostly gray ribbons, thick enough to blur the afternoon light spilling through the kitchen window. My throat burned and my eyes watered until the world shimmered. The butter I’d melted a few minutes ago was long gone and its golden promise reduced to a charred, sticky black crust.
I grabbed a wooden spoon, poking at the mess as if it might resurrect itself. It hissed in response, a spiteful sound that made me flinch. I waved my hand frantically beneath the smoke detector, praying it wouldn’t?—
“Paris or New York,” came a familiar voice from behind me, calm and amused. “Some things never change.”
I turned to find Aiden leaning against the column that separated the kitchen from the living room—sleeves rolled to hiselbows, arms crossed, and a smirk tugging at his mouth. The faint blue of the TV flickered behind him, a quiet contrast to the chaos unfolding here.
As if offended by his nonchalance, the smoke detector shrieked to life with an ear-splitting wail that made me wince.
“Oh, come on!” I shouted over the noise, snatching a towel and flapping it wildly, like a white flag of surrender. “I should’ve known better than to try.”
The pan crackled suddenly, butter popping like miniature fireworks. A flame leapt up, licking the edge of the pan. I yelped and stumbled backward, nearly tripping over a spatula that had somehow migrated to the floor. The acrid scent of burning fat filled the air, heavy and sharp.
Aiden sighed, then pushed off the wall and moved toward me with infuriating calm.
“It helps,” he said, “to turn off the stove first.”
I shot him a sharp glare. “I was getting to it.”
He didn’t bother responding. With what seemed like one swift motion, he turned off the burner, grabbed the pan, and dumped its contents into the sink. The hiss that followed as the water hit the hot metal filled the air, letting out a steam cloud.
I leaned against the counter, chest heaving, hair plastered to my forehead, the kitchen now reeking of burnt butter and humiliation. The room shimmered with residual heat.
“Disaster averted,” Aiden said, rinsing the pan clean. “But please, for the love of God, don’t cook anymore, Raven.”
“Gladly.” I let out a shaky laugh, sliding down the cabinet until I sat on the cool tile floor. “Although, I’m not sure how I’ll feed a baby if I can’t manage a simple thing like melting butter.”
He crouched beside me, the amusement softening from his expression as he slipped an arm around my shoulders. The warmth of him contrasted with the cool tile beneath us.
