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“Your what exactly, Evangeline?” She turns to look at me, that cruel smirk a slash across her beautiful face. “Your men? Do you have a menagerie of men here at Magnolia Lane? Such a shame you’re going to lose it.”
I shake my head and tap my fingers against my thigh, a nervous flutter. “I’m not doing this with you. I’m not going to argue with you. Get out of my house.”
She reaches forward and pats my shoulder twice. It’s so fucking condescending, that I have to grind my molars not to lash out. “Of course you won’t, Evangeline. You never did have what it takes. Not like your sister, Elizabeth.” She gestures to the side, where I know my sister is standing.
Still, I refused to look at her. Instead, I point at her general direction. “Get the fuck out of my house, Lizzie, you duplicitious bitch.”
“I’m sorry, Eve?—”
I look at her now, sending the harshest, most severe look I’ve ever felt cross my face. “You don’t get to call me that. Eve is a nickname reserved for my friends and family. And you are neither.”
Lizzie looks as put-together as always. Wearing a sleeveless pale pink jumpsuit that makes her skin look amazing, hair freshly blown out, and her signature stiletto nails painted neon orange. She doesn’t look like someone who came begging for help less than a week ago.
“I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I tried to warn you. Coraline will tell you, she was there,” Lizzie says, jerking her chin toward our cousin. “And it's not my fault they did what they did. I don’t control those bikers.”
I watch as Lizzie’s gaze slides to Mom, and it clicks into place. She didn’t get what she wanted from Bane, so she went crawling back home. I almost feel sorry for her, but then I remember that she literally came to rob me and was going to let that guy hurt me.
I tilt my head to the side, letting the piece of myself out. The version of me that’s hellbent on survival. I stalk toward her slowly, feeling like I’m the predator now. “Do you know what I did to the last people who came to my house with intent to harm, Lizzie?” I stop in front of her, giving her a front row seat to my confession. I lean in close and whisper, “I killed them.”
She swallows roughly, her gaze darting toward Mom once more.
“Elizabeth, dear, go wait in the car while your sister finishes her temper tantrum. We’ll be in the house soon enough,” Mom says, shooing Lizzie out of the room with a flick of her wrist. Lizzie obeys her, stalking across the house and slamming the front door as she leaves.
I look at my mother, trying to find a single ounce of maternal blood in her body. But like always, I’m left wanting.
“Get out of my house, mother.”
“Evangeline, I grow weary of these outbursts. You really should read the fine print, dear. If you rent out the house, then you forfeit any claim you have on the property.”
I shake my head, my hair swishing against my shoulders. “I didn’t rent it out.”
“Ah, but you did.” Her lips curl into a Cheshire-Cat-like grin. “It seems you were gone for three days and you let those biker friends of yours rent the house in your absence.” She leans over and pats my shoulder twice again. “It’s called a loophole, dear. But you never did catch on easy, did you, hm?”
I smack her hand away from me, momentarily shocked by whatever garbage she’s pulling now.
Silas slides in front of me, arms folded across his impressive chest. He towers over my mother, but she only arches a brow at him, unimpressed. “It’s going to be hard to do much of anything when you’re buried six feet under, Mrs. Carter.”
Mom’s lips purse and she tries to look over Silas’s shoulder at me, but he steps to the side, effectively blocking me from her view.
“No. You had your chance to play nice with her. You failed. Now you deal with me,” Silas says.
I’m a little embarrassed to admit it considering the current situation, but a soft flick of arousal warms my belly at his protectiveness.
“Are you threatening me?” Mom scoffs.
“I thought you were the smart parent, Mrs. Carter. Surely you understand a threat, yeah?”
Mom sniffs, jerking up her chin further. “Rupert, Henri. We’ll come back another time.”
“Don’t you ever walk in this house without Evie’s permission again. We shoot first in Rosewood, Mrs. Carter, in case you forgot,” Silas says.
The clack of her shoes against the floor is the only noise in the house as the three of them leave. Silas follows behind them, and I trail him. He stops at the front door, his body filling the entire door frame, watching them get into their cars.
“What the fuck just happened,” Cora whispers.
But I can’t take my eyes off of him, not even to answer my cousin. “Did you just threaten to kill my mother?” It should be an accusation, but instead it’s more like an awed whisper.
His cheeks turn pink and he crosses his arms over his chest, glancing out the glass-single-paned door. “I didn’t mean it.”
