Then, she’s gone. Ripped away from me so suddenly I stumble back, my arm free, my breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts.
A huge figure fills the space between us. “Asher…”
His name leaves my lips before I even see him clearly. Relief crashes into me so hard it almost makes my knees give. One second, my arm is still tingling from where she grabbed me, and the next, I’m pressed against Asher’s back. My fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing holding me upright.
His grip on her wrist is tight. Completely unyielding. He twists just enough to force the weapon from her hand. It clatters to the floor, the sound sharp and final in the tense silence that follows.
“Don’t,” he says, his voice low, dangerous in a way I’ve never heard before.
He forces her down onto the couch, securing her arms behind her back. She struggles, but it doesn’t matter. He’s stronger. More controlled.
“You’re done,” he says, his voice cold.
She exhales sharply, still not looking scared. “You think this ends here?” She turns to me, and something maniacal flashes in her eyes. “All those years I gave you. All that money I watched over that should have been mine. You were the only thing standing between me and every cent of it.”
Something inside me twists painfully, but I force myself to speak. “Why?” My voice cracks, but I don’t stop. “Why would you do this? You raised me. You took care of me. You—”
“I waited,” she cuts in sharply. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to wait that long? To manage everything, hold it together, make sure you had everything you needed while knowing none of it was mine?”
The words hit differently. Colder.
“It was always supposed to be mine,” she continues, her voice tightening. “I did everything right. I stayed. I handled everything after your parents died. I made sure you were safe, educated, comfortable. And for what? To hand it all over to you when you turn twenty?”
My throat tightens. “So you decided to kill me?” I ask, disbelief lacing every word.
She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“You’re insane,” I whisper.
“Maybe,” she says, not even denying it. “But I’m also right.”
Before I can respond, Asher’s voice cuts through. “You can explain it to the police.”
A few minutes later, sirens cut through the silence outside, growing louder until red and blue lights flash through the windows. Everything moves quickly after that—officers stepping in, taking control, pulling her away from Asher’s hold and into cuffs.
She doesn’t resist. She just looks at me one last time.
We give our statements to the police, who eventually tell us we can go.
“Come on,” Asher says quietly beside me, his hand finding mine, steady and grounding.
???
The ride back to Wilder House is quiet. I’m still shaken, still processing everything, but I’m not alone in it.
Asher’s hand doesn’t leave mine. Not once. By the time we get back inside the apartment, the weight of everything finally catches up to me. The door barely closes before I turn to him, my emotions spilling over all at once.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, the words rushing out. “I shouldn’t have left, I should’ve listened to you, I just…I thought she was in danger, and I didn’t think—”
“You could’ve died, Nora,” he cuts in softly, his tone devastating.
The words hit harder than anything else. I swallow hard, my gaze dropping. “I didn’t want anything to happen to her.”
“And what about you?” he presses gently. “What do you think it would do to me if she had hurt you? Or worse?”
I don’t answer.
Because I don’t have one. “I’m sorry.”
