Page 87 of Bad Mother

Danny dived for it, Gavin following, and they rolled precariously close to the edge. Sienna’s heart rose in her throat as they moved in the other direction before both came to their feet, their grunts ringing through the large, open area as they fought to overpower each other, to grab the weapon.

Outside, lights blinked on, the high, boarded windows overhead illuminating the cavernous space in streaming rays. Sienna heard the distant sound of vehicles. The demolition crew had arrived, or perhaps they were just now gearing up.I can’t walk. Oh God, it hurts. I can’t even stand.

Even if Gavin got the gun, would holding it on Danny work to force him to give them the code to the exit? Did they even have time to make it to that faraway door? Was there another they could make it through? There was no time to search. Sienna panted with both pain and terror.

Danny swung his arm back and lost balance. His bloody expression registered startled fear as he almost caught himself but lost his footing, falling backward and down the escalator. Mirabelle cried out his name, and Sienna grimaced as she heard his descent, his body pounding off the metal steps as he fell to the bottom.

Mirabelle screamed, letting go of Sienna and then rushing forward as Gavin came to his knees and then his feet and rushed to where Sienna sat, her blood soaking into the plywood floor.

“Oh God, Si, your leg,” he said breathlessly. “We have togo.” He leaned down and scooped her up. From the higher vantage point, she saw Danny lying below, his body limp, one leg bent backward. And she saw his eyes open, heard his pained moan. He was still alive.

Mirabelle was standing at the top of the escalator, her shoulders shaking with sobs as she stared down at Danny. “Mom! Let’s go!” Gavin said, turning back toward the room he’d burst through minutes before, surprising Danny. Sienna reached up, lacing her hands around his neck, her heart pounding so harshly she could barely breathe, pain making the room throb around her.

Outside, over an intercom, a voice came. “Twenty.”

Oh God. A countdown.Just like that long-ago day when Father had begun calling out the numbers, when Violet had been forced to choose. The realization came distantly. Her thoughts were staggered, seemingly disconnected from reality. The pain in her leg was sharp and overwhelming.

Mirabelle—Violet—turned, a small, sad smile on her lips as once again she stood between her two boys.

“Nineteen.”

And even in her disconnected state, Siennaknew. “Mirabelle,” she whispered. A goodbye.

Below, Danny moved, pulling himself backward with his arms, his leg dragging uselessly as he cried out in pain. He slumped against the wall, chest rising and falling with stilted breath.

“Eighteen.”

“Mom!” Gavin called, panic in his tone.

“I love you both so much,” Mirabelle choked, stepping onto the escalator. And before Gavin could even step forward, Mirabelle began moving rapidly down the narrow set of steps, toward Danny.

“Seventeen.”

“Sienna,” Danny called from below, his voice weak and shaky and so soft she could barely hear it over the escalating activity outside. “Violet Whitney Hastings,” he said, his head going back and hitting the wall.

“Sixteen.”

“Twenty-three, seventy-four...” Danny grunted.What are you saying, Danny?He tried to take in a breath, but it ended in a coughing fit, his neck bending to the side.

“Fifteen.”

Gavin made a growling sound of frustration and panic in the back of his throat, adjusting Sienna in his arms. He took one step toward Mirabelle but then pivoted, his growl turning into a sob as he kicked the door in front of them open, Sienna gripped tightly in his arms as they moved forward.Away.

“Fourteen.”

Sienna understood. She knew. If they stayed and attempted to force Mirabelle to come with them, they’d all die. Mirabelle had made her choice. Once again, she’d stood between her sons, and this time, she’d chosen Danny, because the first time she had not.

Gavin’s breath gusted against her cheek. Sienna could no longer hear the countdown from this inner, enclosed section of the building, but she said the numbers in her mind.

Thirteen.

Gavin ran through the room they hadn’t taken the time to explore, the one that held the clues to Mirabelle’s address. The room that, had they taken the time to work through it, would have been their grave, all of them buried under rubble, just as the game master had planned.

Twelve.

Gavin burst through the second door, heading to the outer one through which he’d entered. What was he going to do? Tear the alarm from the wall? Then they’d never get out. Use a battering ram? They didn’t have time. Her mind grew cloudy, pain rolling through her like a red wave.

Eleven.

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