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Staring at the now darkened screen, Gia’s face flashed through my mind and was immediately replaced with ice-blue eyes as cruel as the devil.
“This is for Lily.”
If Gia died as retribution for the princess, then that princess needed to die.
I’d known as soon as I’d woken this morning I wanted to get away. It was like Beck had said the day before—Kieran and Mickey were gone. They weren’t breathing down our necks . . . and I knew Beck would be gone doing errands for Kieran.
With Kieran’s proposal, I’d known I wouldn’t be able to handle staying on Holloway with nothing to do but stare out a window. I needed to have a day where that suffocating weight wasn’t pressing down around me—one where I wasn’t worried about getting back before someone noticed I was gone.
After finding out why I was being hunted by the Borellos and that I was the reason Dare’s fiancée had been murdered, it felt impossible to face him.
But I didn’t know how to stay away from him.
So it didn’t surprise me when I found myself walking into Brooks Street Café.
I didn’t look around to see if he was there, I didn’t need to. My body wasn’t thrumming with excitement as if it knew the person I had been made for was close by. I kept my head down as I sank into a booth, and tried to wrap my head around my life, as I had been for so long.
I wondered if it was even possible.
I’d wondered a lot of things lately . . .
I tensed when someone suddenly slid into the booth across from me, then loosed a slow, calming breath when I recognized the older woman.
Dare and Libby’s mom.
My dad killed your husband. Do you even know? What would you say if you did? The ache in my head was nearly as real as the one twisting my stomach.
When tense seconds passed in silence, I ignored the tightening in my throat and managed to say, “Hi, Mrs.—”
“Sofia. Please, just Sofia.”
“Sofia.”
“I called Demitri, he knows you’re here.”
My eyes widened, and I sucked in a sharp breath at his name—that name—being said so casually.
His mom dropped her head into her hand and stifled a laugh. “I’m sorry. Dare. Those kids and their nicknames.” With a roll of her eyes, she murmured, “Maybe one day I’ll catch up with them.”
I forced a twitch of a smile. “I would’ve never known that was his name.” When she lifted her brows in surprise, I explained, “My friend thought he said Darren. I thought maybe that was his real name, and Dare was just a shortened version.”
And what I wouldn’t give for that to be true.
She laughed softly, her tired eyes studying me curiously for a moment. “Every time I see you, I think you look so familiar.”
Because I look like my mom like this, I thought to myself.
With these colored contacts, if I lost the glasses, I looked exactly like she had at my age. And rival families tend to know everything about each other . . . unless the kids are kept sheltered from the world, as I had been.
“Dare thought the same thing,” I admitted, only because I didn’t want to seem rude by keeping silent.
“It’s strange, almost like déjà vu.” She quickly shook her head, then glanced at the delicate watch on her wrist. “Well, I suspect they’ll be here soon, but I wanted to catch you before they arrived.”
I sat silently as she played with a gold wedding band hanging from a chain around her neck, trying not to worry over why she wanted to see me—trying not to apologize for everything my dad had done and demand to know why their family had delivered their share of heartache.
“You make Dem—Dare . . . Dare happier than he’s been in a long time. I don’t know if you know that, or if you’ll ever know.” She eyed me, suddenly wary, then whispered, “But I need to know why you’re here.”
“What?” I asked, stammering over the word when she caught me off guard at the direction of her question.
