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Mom waved her hand dismissively. “I’m sure you’ll find time to get out on the ice here and there. But the schedule you’ve been keeping—there’ve already been conflicts. And wasn’t Balakin saying that you’d reached your limits anyway?”
I hadn’t been totally sure before that moment. I hadn’twantedto be sure.
But I hadn’t said anything about the text Balakin had sent me to anyone. How could Mom say that with so much confidence if she didn’t know about it for other reasons?
Like, because she’d ordered whoever had actually written that text to send it on Balakin’s phone after they’d slaughtered the poor man.
That would be a perfect strategic move, wouldn’t it?
Mom didn’t have to be the bad guy, ordering me to give up my aspirations. It was the coach telling me I’d reached the end of the road, a coach who was now gone so his supposed last words to me would stand unchallenged.
It was awful, but also completely on brand for the woman in front of me.
My stomach lurched queasily. I held on to my composure with the iron fist she’d beaten into me.
Part of me wanted to throw her deception in her face. But what purpose wouldthatact serve?
If she realized I was on to her, she’d only up her game.
“I guess he was,” I said, playing along with the rouse. “Are we going to find the people who murdered him?”
Mom’s reaction was only further confirmation. If she hadn’t intended this outcome, she’d have been furious about the violation, the direct threat aimed at her in the bloody message on the ice.
Instead, she simply said curtly, “They’ll be tracked down and dealt with. We have men on it already.”
“Good,” I said, letting just a hint of my own anger color my voice, even if I couldn’t fully direct it at its real target.
Then I exhaled as if in exhaustion. “It was so sudden—I know I shouldn’t be shocked by something like this, but I’m still a little shaken up. I think I’m going to turn in early.”
Mom nodded, not bothering to express disapproval of my admission of this small weakness when she thought she’d gotten what she wanted. “Nothing wrong with taking a little time to gather yourself while you have the chance.”
I couldn’t get out of her presence fast enough, but I forced my steps to stay measured until I’d shut the door of her office and was heading down the hall. Then I hustled the rest of the way to my bedroom at the back of the house.
The funny thing—in a sick way—was that I’d already been prepared for this moment. I just hadn’t expected it to play out quite like this.
For the past several years, I’d been siphoning as much money from the family accounts as I could get away with into a hidden stash of cash as well as a secret bank account under a pseudonym Mom didn’t know. I had a getaway bag packed and stashed in the attic, easy to grab from the trap door in my walk-in closet.
I’d been planning to leave this house and Mom’s expectations behind eventually. I might have done it already if I hadn’t kept convincing myself that I should hang in there a little longer, build up my nest egg a little more…
And I hadn’t decided how I’d handle the issue of Balakin and my training, since obviously Mom could find me through him.
Little did she know that with her vicious gambit, she’d swept the main factor keeping me with her into oblivion. There was nothing left in this city that I really cared about—nothing I couldn’t just as easily find someplace else.
Mom had taught me how to survive in a man’s world, how to stand up for myself and take control of my life. And for the first time, I was actually going to enjoy putting those lessons to use.
I stuffed my skates into my training duffel along with a few other items I couldn’t bear to leave behind that weren’t in the emergency bag. Then I swapped my black-and-white striped leggings and hot pink muscle tee for an all-black ensemble.
For a second, I imagined how Balakin would have clapped to see me wearing more typical workout gear rather than sticking to my preferred style at the rink, and a fresh pang of grief rippled through me.
He would have wanted this escape for me too. He’d been trying to tell me that when we’d talked two days ago, hadn’t he?
Had Mom been putting pressure on him to cut me off, and he’d defied her? That would explain his nervousness.
But God, how he’d paid for it.
I blinked hard and sank onto my bed, pulling my knees up to my chest.
I couldn’t leave just yet anyway. There was too much activity in the house; the sun hadn’t even finished setting.
