Metal snapped. Someone yelled.
Andre’s mother burst into the kitchen, shoving soldiers aside as if they weighed nothing.
For one terrible moment, I saw her clearly.
She wore a white nightgown, like the one I’d been given—only this one was soaked through with blood and darkened stains. Her skin was corpse-pale, her face smeared red. Her hands were twisted into claws. Her teeth bared.
“Mummy no!” Andre screamed.
She lunged—not toward the soldiers, not toward the noise—but straight for the wall.
Straight for me.
For a heartbeat, I swear she saw me.
A taser struck her from behind. She convulsed and crashed forward, her face slamming into the wall inches from where I stood.
She slid down slowly, breath rattling, hands scraping weakly against the plaster—reaching.
For me.
The soldiers stared at one another, confused. Disoriented.
But I understood.
I had drawn her.
Fuck.
I bit down on my hand, hard, swallowing my sobs before they could escape.
“What the hell was that Dominic?” Aiden demanded. “She charged straight for the wall.”
“Is there anyone else here?” Dominic snapped. “Any animals?”
“No!”
“If you are lying to me, boy—”
“I’m not!” Andre shouted. “Stop hurting my mother!”
Soldiers restrained him, dragging him back as he fought uselessly against their grip.
Dominic’s gaze swept the room.
I ducked lower, heart hammering, wrapping my arms around myself.
“Harbouring a feral is a crime, Andre. Take them both,” Dominic said coldly. “The mother too.”
For a moment, Dominic lingered in the house, his gaze drifting toward the wardrobe at the end of the hall. Then he turned away.
Hands closed around Andre’s arms. Another soldier scooped Mia up, her small body limp with shock.
For half a second, Andre twisted free just enough to look back down the hall—toward the room where his mother lay, unmoving.
His face crumpled.
Something inside me broke with it.
