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I took in the weapons and the sheer size of Aydin’s and Martin’s crew, knowing we were outmatched. We couldn’t fight them with a sword and our fists.
This couldn’t get that far.
I met Martin’s eyes. “He influenced your career and helped you fly up a few ladders, but he’s going down,” I told him. “Save yourself.”
“He had my father murdered,” Rika pleaded, stepping in.
He wasn’t getting away with it. Unless they killed us all, Martin was on the losing side.
But then Evans started laughing, looking to Martin, a knowing look passing between them both.
My stomach knotted.
“Who do you think cut the brake lines?” Evans asked Rika. “Altered the police report? Destroyed the vehicle before it could be inspected?”
She lunged for him, but Michael pulled her back, getting into his father’s face. One of the guards shifted behind them, ready to grab for his weapon.
“I promise you,” Michael said. “I won’t tell my mother any of this after you’re gone. She’ll never have to know.”
“It’s not for you to protect me, Michael,” someone spoke up.
Slowly, we turned around, the two masked figures I didn’t recognize standing on both sides of Kai as they pulled off their masks and pushed down their hoods.
Christiane Fane stood on the left, tears filling her eyes, as Delia Crist, Michael’s mother, stood on the right, her light brown bangs hanging in her eyes.
Kai shrugged, looking apologetic. “The kids are safe,” he assured. “I couldn’t stop them. Sorry, man.”
They must’ve cornered him at his mom and dad’s house, and he snuck them past Michael.
Christiane stepped forward, not taking her eyes off of Evans as she walked straight for him, her blonde hair—like Rika’s—pulled back in a low ponytail and her frail, quiet form looking too skinny to pick up a peanut.
She stopped in front of him, both of them locking eyes, and then…she whipped her hand across his face, sending him stumbling to the side.
The crew behind them tensed, and I balled my fists, ready.
He breathed hard, blinking and looking shocked, and then stood upright again, facing her.
She slapped him again, the same cheek, but the only part of him that moved this time was his head twisting to the side.
His jaw flexed, and I didn’t even care she wasn’t screaming at him for what he did to her husband and the years of torture since. She hit him again and again, and I almost smiled.
He grunted after the fifth one, sucking in angry air through his teeth. “Get the bitch off me,” he finally growled to someone.
Martin hurried to grab her, and we stepped forward, but just as Christiane raised her hand to slap him again, Damon shoved Martin back, telling him, “Don’t touch her.” And then Will raced ahead, dived in, and caught Christiane by the wrist, stopping her.
My heart leaped. Will.
With his mask hooked onto his belt and his kind eyes cast down on Rika’s mother, he said, “I’ll tie him up later, and let you have some more fun, okay?”
She stared up at him, almost looking lost for a moment, but then she broke into a smile.
She turned around, the tears streaming down her face as she looked at the ground, and even though Damon, Michael, and I had so many problems with the people who raised us, not all of the parents were enemies.
Damon put his finger under her chin and pushed, forcing her to lift her eyes up.
“Chin up,” he bit out. “And stop being a mouse, You’re my mother, for Christ’s sake.”
He faced forward, but she gazed up at him, love and longing in her eyes as he took her hand and led her back to the group.
