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Yet no one has said a word. We’re all watching Della, who is sitting in the cream striped armchair I fell asleep in the day before.
Kylian gently nudged me toward the couch farther away from Della when I moved to sit beside her, taking the couch closest to her instead. It’s how I knew he didn’t trust her.
That and he tried to kill her a few minutes ago, something I’m still not ready to process. I’m not sure I ever will. He did it to protect me. I’m almost sure of it, but Della is still my nineteen-year-old little sister.
I wrap the comforter around myself and focus on Della, who is impossibly wearing Lawrence’s staff uniform.
And her copper red hair. She’s always been a brunette. My eyes narrow. “What happened to your hair?”
Della shrugs. “Had to dye it in case Lawrence recognized me. I tried blonde first, but if you saw what color my hair ended up, you’d know why I went with red in the end.”
I’m not surprised blonde wouldn’t work out for her. Della has—or had—long, rich chestnut brown hair. Far too dark to go to blonde in one box dye treatment. She’d have to bleach it first. Maybe a couple of times. It’s still long. Just redder. “Why didn’t you want Lawrence to recognize you, and how did you know I was here?”
“I saw you running from the party into the garden, and I followed,” Della explains. “They got there before I could, and I was waiting for them to leave so I could talk to you. But then they said they’d help you get away from Lawrence, and they did. I thought it would be easier to see you here than it was there.”
I blink. “See me there?” I echo. “What do you mean, see me there?”
She gestures at her uniform. “I work in the gardens, so I never had a good reason to be inside. Sometimes I saw you, but I never had a chance to speak to you.”
I’m trying to process what she’s saying when she leans toward me.
Kylian clears his throat. “That uniform makes you a threat to Everleigh until we decide otherwise.”
Della glances at him and sits back in her seat. I take in the red mark around her throat and release a sigh of relief. Kylian doesn’t need to say how he intends to deal with threats to me. I’ve already seen how he would do that, and I’d rather not watch him kill my sister. Even if she proves to be a threat.
“You were working in Lawrence’s garden,” I say, hoping to prevent more violence. “Maybe you could explain that.”
So Kylian doesn’t decide to kill you.
“After Lawrence took you away, I made Mom tell me everything.” Della glares at Kylian, proving she’s still the same fearless little sister I remember.
“And what is everything?” Rune asks.
Della stops glaring at Kylian to eye Rune’s big shoulders warily before she refocuses on me. “She said someone paid her a lot of money to raise you. To not tell you anything about where you came from, and that your real mom was an omega.”
Now it’s my turn to sit back in my seat. Though it’s less of a sitting back than a leaning away from more secrets I have a feeling will devastate me.
I knew it. It isn’t like I hadn’t already worked it all out, but to hear it? To have verbal confirmation? That’s a whole other level of knowing something. It’s like someone reached right into my chest, gripped my heart, and squeezed.
Cian rests his shoulder on mine. He smiles faintly at me, reassuring me in his quiet way. I return his smile, wondering when I reached the point an alpha’s touch was something that comforted rather than something that hurt.
“Is she still alive?” I ask, refocusing on Della. “My… real mom?”
Anna Jackson wasn’t my mom. Della has confirmed something I suspected for a long time. Then why does it still feel like she is? Or was?
I scrub a hand over my face, confused but also annoyed at myself. Someone paid her money to care for me. Shedidcare for me, and I loved her.
Maybe it’s stupid to still have any feelings for her when she stopped me from going to school, stopped me from leaving the house more times than not. Stopped me from having alife.
But Ididlove her.
Itisstupid, I decide. But she felt like my mom. I looked at her and saw… Mom.
Sometimes, I would tell her I was going to leave and go to the art school I’d always wanted to, so I could be the artist I felt like I’d been born to be. Mom—Anna—always threatened I would never see Della again if I did.
Now I wonder if I should have left, saved myself all this heartache. No sooner have I thought it than I’m rejecting the idea. I wouldn’t have left if it cost me my sister. I love drawing, but I always loved Della more. I still do.
Della shakes her head, her large hazel eyes filled with frustration. “I don’t know, Everleigh. Mom didn’t know either. She could have been lying, but why would she tell me about the suppressants and lie about everything else?”
