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The door bursts open and slams against the wall behind it.

“Lee,” my

mother’s shout ricochets off the walls of the library. I jump out of my skin and scramble out from behind the curtain. She’s racing across the room like a bat out of hell.

She’s carrying her shoes and speed walking. Her bleached blond hair flies behind her like a war banner, her dark green eyes, really the only thing I wished I inherited her from her, are blazing with anger.

My stomach drops and I glance back to the curtain. Remi comes out too, and he’s watching her like she’s some sort of mythical creature come to life.

She takes me by the arm, not even giving Remi a second glance. “Come on, Lee. We’re leaving.” Her voice is angry and anxious all at once, and I don’t resist. I look back at Remi and he’s watching us with undisguised fascination.

“I thought your name was Kal,” he calls after me, and in the midst of all of this upheaval and my mother’s frantic energy and my own panic and fear, I find the presence of mind to explain.

Just as she pulls me the through the door, I look over my shoulder and smile at him. Because that’s how I want him to remember me.

“It’s Kalilah.”

He smiles back. I memorize the expression on his face. It’s the friendliest one I’ve seen in a long time, and I hope I never forget it. And then, I turn around and struggle to keep up with my mother’s hurried steps.

We step out into the huge marble-floored corridor, it’s lined with torches and huge magnolia trees that are so perfect they look fake, but the sugary sweet scent from the tremendous white flowers that bloom on its branches declare them to be the work of nature. Our footsteps are muffled by the long rug that runs down the center of it and from a distance I can hear the strain of music and merrymaking voices.

I look up at my mother in bewilderment. “Mama, what’s going on? Why are we leaving?” Her jaw is clenched, her eyes fixed ahead of us like she’s on a march to battle. Her chest heaves, leaving her breathless as she drags me down the corridor. I try to pull my arm free and she only tightens her grip.

“Mama, there’s no one chasing us, can you please slow down?” I plead with her.

“Oh, they’re chasing us all right. I’ve just got a good head start. Keep up,” she snaps.

We round a corner and the stairs I’d run up to find this library come into sight. She speeds up and then brings us to a sudden, lurching halt when we find our path blocked by a woman flanked by two men.

The woman is beautiful. Certainly, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her cocoa skin glows like she’s walking with a ray of sun over her. She’s tall, dressed all in black and has a silver streak of hair that cuts through her dark tresses like a flash of lightning. Her eyes are a startlingly dark… and familiar. But in them, her beauty disappears. The anger that lurks in those eyes, the tight set of her red painted lips is scary.

“Morgan. You are not welcome here. Don’t bring your trouble and mess to my doorstep.”

I’d know that voice anywhere.

It’s snakehead.

Remi’s mother. Of course, they have the same eyes, except hers have something terrible in them. It’s more than anger, there’s sadness swirling there, and… something else I don’t recognize, but that I know isn’t good. I look away from that terrifying glare, and only then do I notice that the two men are burly, scruffy bearded giants in dark suits wearing flat, menacing expressions. They eye my mother like she’s a wild animal they’re trying to decide how to trap.

My heart feels like it’s going to fly up my throat and out of my mouth, and I tug on my mother’s arm. Not to get loose, but to try to pull her away from them. She gives my arm a sharp, impatient tug in return. I look up at her and her eyes are full of warning. I clamp my mouth shut and stare straight ahead.

“Thank you, Ms. Wilde, I’m just leaving,” she says haughtily and tries to step around the trio.

“It’s Mrs. Wilde. I know you’ve had trouble recognizing that distinction before so, I’ll excuse your oversight. And yes, you are leaving,” Snakehead hisses. “Scott, James, please escort them out, through the back of the house.”

“We can leave on our own.” Mama’s voice has got a pitch of fear in it that only amplifies mine.

“I’m sure you can. I just want to make sure none of my silver leaves with you.”

“As if,” she gasps in affront.

“As if nothing. Everyone knows about that con man you’re dating. God only knows what or who you managed to get your hands on before I saw you.”

“You’ve got nothing I want.” My mother’s words are muted by the tremor in her voice.

“Good. Now, get out. Take your love child with you.” Snakehead slings these malicious words with the cruel carelessness of someone who knows they’ve got the upper hand.

The blow they land is brutal. Each one of them changes the way I see myself, my mother, my future. She sweeps her eyes over me. If I were made of anything less than flesh and bone, her gaze would have incinerated me. I shrink underneath it and then even more when my mother’s only response is to say, “With pleasure.”

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