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“Who put these annoying lights in?” My voice is raspy, and my throat is raw.
“You did,” Natalie says.
Squinting my eyes, I search for my sister. I find her sitting next to my bed, looking like shit.
“What happened to you?”
“Me?” She laughs humorlessly. “I’m not the one who got shot.”
It only takes a second for all the memories to rush back to my mind. Teagan kidnapped and tied to a tree. My mother alive… our mother ordered to kill me.
“Nat…” I stumble over her name, trying to find the words to tell her.
“Dallas already told me,” she explains flatly, her eyes trained at a random spot on my blanket. “She got away, but we will find her and eliminate the threat.”
I wince at the thought. “You talk like she’s just a random person.”
“At this point, she is. Wouldn’t you agree? From what Griffin told me, the woman we used to call Mom is gone.”
“Where is Teagan?”
Natalie still can’t look me in the eyes. “She let the nurse check her out and push fluids, but she left when you came out of surgery.”
I try to sit up. Stupid idea. Pain shoots from my chest, radiating out to my limbs. Fuck, my whole body hurts.
“Don’t try to get up, idiot.” Nat rolls her eyes at me. “You’re lucky you’re even alive. The bullet missed all your organs. Went straight through you.”
Still hurts like hell. “Did someone—”
“Tank took her home, and he’s currently parked outside her apartment.”
“Good, I want a whole team—”
“Already happening. Griffin picked them out himself.”
I relax a little. “How long do I have to stay here?”
“Until the doctor says you’re good to go. Don’t push yourself, Mason. We’ve got everything under control.”
I snort. Nothing is under control. My mother has gone crazy and wants me dead because she thinks I killed my brother. I accused Teagan of lying and kicked her out. It’s my fault she got kidnapped and almost killed. She will never forgive me for this, and I can’t blame her. There’s only one person to blame, and that’s me.
This is all my fault.
One week later…
“I’m leaving, and that’s it.” I hold my ground no matter how much my team tries to change my mind.
“You are still recovering from surgery.” Griffin huffs. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”
“She hasn’t answered any of my calls or messages. I just need to talk to her.” I look at my phone again, never losing hope of seeing a message pop up. If I could just talk to her face-to-face and make her understand how sorry I am, maybe she would give me another shot.
Wishful thinking.
“Teagan doesn’t wanna talk to you right now. Give her some space.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“I’m on the side that doesn’t want you to get killed.”
If I could just see her once… or maybe it’s just my selfish need to see her face. Either way, the urge to see her is too overwhelming. “I have to try to make this right.”
“And you can, but not today. Plus, you still look like shit. She’ll never take you back looking like a bum. Eat a burger or something. Your cheeks are all sunk in; you look like a fucking ghost.”
Tank nods in agreement. Count on your best friends to give you an honest opinion. “Fine, I won’t go today. Give me an update on my mother.”
“We haven’t found much more. All we know is that she’s working with someone who has a lot of power. Highly skilled and with a vendetta against you.”
“Since she mentioned Operation Black Orchid, our best bet is it’s an inside job,” Griffin offers, though he knows I hate him bringing it up. “Unless… someone else from that mission survived.”
“Impossible. That building was completely gone.” The memory of that day invades my mind—the sudden explosion, the building caving in on itself. I can almost smell burning flesh just by thinking of it. “And there was nothing besides desert in a hundred-mile radius.”
“Black Orchid was a highly classified mission; only a handful of people knew about it, and most of those people are already dead. You know that the government doesn’t keep records of those.”
Of course, I know all of that. It just doesn’t make sense. “What about my father?” This has been a question on my mind since I saw my mom alive.
“We sent a team to check the gravesite. Your mother’s coffin was empty. Your dad’s wasn’t.”
I’m not sure how to feel. Disappointed or relieved?
That’s not the only question remaining. What really happened that day? Was my dad’s death really an accident, or did my mom kill him?
One month later…
Somehow, I can still smell her in the suite she stayed in. Her unique flowery scent lingers in the air, clinging to the room the same way I’m holding on to the memory of her. I haven’t let anyone inside, not even the cleaning crew.
