to get out earlier. “Fien.”
Fien is not my child, but I love her father enough to wish she was, so I’ll do everything in my power to protect her from the deranged woman attempting to kill her mother.
With a roar, I charge for India like Dimitri did Officer Daniel almost two weeks ago. My shove juts her so fiercely, a butcher’s knife stained with blood falls from her back pocket. I snatch it up before racing up the stairwell as if my stomach isn’t screaming with every pump of my legs. My plan could be a woeful waste of time, India could finish what she started with Audrey since I’m no longer in the room, but my intuition is telling me this is the right thing to do. India wants Audrey’s death to look like a suicide. She can’t do that without the weapon I’m clutching.
When I reach the top of the stairs on the third floor, I scan my eyes over the dozens of doors branching off the corridor. They’re all identical, and there are far too many to search every one of them.
“Fien?” I call her name on repeat, unsure which room is hers. I only got to watch her connection with her father from afar. I was never invited into her inner circle. It wasn’t just Dimitri shunting me from the festivities, it was India as well.
Now I understand why.
“Fien, honey, where are you?”
My heart races a million miles an hour when Fien sheepishly peers at me from behind a carved wooden door partway down the corridor. Her eyes are sleepy, and her beloved teddy is closer to the floor than her chest.
“Hey, baby,” I say, optimistic she won’t just recall how I ripped her out of Maestro’s arms when he succumbed to a bullet. I helped her meet her father for the first time. Fingers crossed that gives me some additional brownie points. “Do you want to go see Dada? I’m sure he’s dying to see you. I can take you to him.”
The closer I pad to Fien, the more wetness fills her eyes. Even being raised in hell wouldn’t see her eager to run into my arms. I have a bloody knife in my hand, and I’m sweating profusely. I very much look like an ax murderer.
After tossing the knife to the floor, I scrub a hand across my face, then hold out my arms. “That’s it, Fien,” I say on a sob when she moves out from behind her door enough I can see all of her adorable face. “I won’t hurt you. I swear. We’re just going to go see Dada.”
I think I have her convinced.
I think she’s on my side.
Then the mat is pulled out from beneath my feet.
While crying for her Mama, Fien sidesteps me with the agility of an up-and-coming state championship quarterback. She races to India at the other end of the corridor, smirking smugly about the devastation on my face.
How did she get past me? I haven’t spent a lot of time here, but since I was lonely, and I pace the halls when I’m feeling that way, I know her floorplan intimately. There’s no other entrance to the third floor except the stairwell I just climbed. Unless…
My mouth pops open when the truth smacks into me.
India’s home has a secret stairwell like the ranch Fien was held captive at.
“You… you…” Come on mouth, put this bitch in her place. “You killed my baby!”
I snatch up the knife I threw down before holding it out in front of myself. Fien will most likely never forgive the murderous look on my face, but I’ll do my best to erase it from her memories when I take down the conniving, two-faced bitch she has confused with her mother.
“Why did you do that to my baby? What harm could it have ever done to you? Dimitri was never yours. He didn’t even sleep with you, so why do you think you have a claim to any children he has?”
Like the heartless snake she is, India says matter-of-factly, “My family’s royal lineage hasn’t been tainted in centuries, and I refuse to let it start with me.”
“What?” Nothing she said makes any sense. Fien isn’t her child, so how could my child with Dimitri ‘taint’ her family’s legacy.
It takes a little longer for the truth to smack into me this time around. The delay is understandable. This is as unkosher as it gets.
“You’re Fien’s mother.” Since I’m not asking a question, it doesn’t