Witless (Lonely Souls #3) - Autumn Reed

Chapter One

Thea

“I guess you caught me.”

Balancing on my uninjured leg, I whirled to find Hayle’s mother standing behind me, wearing a sneer as she brandished a large kitchen knife.

Son of a wicked witch.

I was screwed.

Even if I didn’t have a broken leg, there was nowhere to run. Lily stood between me and the interior of the house, and she’d easily be able to cut me off if I headed toward the door at the other end of the greenhouse.

I glanced around for gardening shears or a hoe or rake or anything that I could use for a weapon. But, unless I chucked a pot of flowers at her, I was out of luck. My crutches might be my only salvation against whatever crazy was going on right now.

Unsure what else to do, I gave Lily an overly bright smile. “I think I’m the one who’s been caught. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come in here without your permission.”

She took a single step toward me, and I couldn’t help but notice a wildness in her eyes I hadn’t seen before. Usually, she appeared overly calm, if not melancholy.

Not now.

Now, she appeared primitive and freaking pissed.

Lily pointed the knife directly at me, and even though there was a table of plants and at least eight feet between us, I limped back a few paces. “You’re just like your mother. You think you can waltz in here and take him away from me.” She took another step toward me. “Well, you can’t. I won’t let you.”

My mother…the silver shoes. Those stiletto heels should make a decent weapon, even if it meant throwing them at her head.

“I’m not trying to take Vincent away from you, I assure you.”

As I spoke, I slid my forgotten tote off my shoulder and reached in for one of the shoes, careful to keep the action as subtle as possible. I hated to misuse either of the beautiful heels this way, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And Hayle’s mother inching toward me with a knife certainly qualified as a desperate time.

“Vincent?” She laughed with her whole body, her long, black hair swaying with the movement. “I don’t care about him.”

Even as I clutched the shoe in one of my trembling hands, I tried to focus on what she was saying. She didn’t care about Vincent? Then, who was she talking about?

“Hayle, you silly little girl,” Lily said, answering my unspoken question. “You’re trying to turn him against me, just like your mother did all those years ago.”

If I’d had any doubt as to her current state of sanity, those words expelled them in an instant. She thought I was trying to turn her son against her? Like my mother had? What the hell was she talking about?

I tried to fit the pieces together, but it was practically impossible to arrange my thoughts into any semblance of order when she kept advancing toward me, knife in hand. All I knew was that I had to be smart about this. If I overreacted, she might attack. But, if I stayed calm, maybe she would as well.

Or, so I hoped.

“Lily, I promise I’m not trying to turn Hayle against you. I know how much he loves you, and I wouldn’t do that to him.”

Her answering smile was cold, and for a second, I couldn’t help but think that Tristin could have been her son instead of Hayle. Because he was the only person I knew who could throw that much ice my way.

“I know he’s been abandoning me these last few weeks to be with you.”

“Only because of my injury,” I insisted, hoping my voice wasn’t shaking as much as my body. “But I’m better now, which means he’ll be back to spending all of his extra time with you.”

“Lies,” she hissed.

And that’s when I knew there was no reasoning myself out of this situation. Lily wasn’t interested in the truth. She just wanted to make me pay.

I couldn’t run. I had to fight.

As she rounded the table that had been separating us, I raised my arm and hurled a silver stiletto at her. It slammed into her cheek, and she recoiled. But her surprise only lasted a second, because in another, she was lunging toward me. “You bitch!”

Out of options, I swung one of my crutches at her. She caught the end and yanked me toward her, and I stumbled, falling onto my hands and knees mere feet from her. Pain lanced through my still-healing leg, but I didn’t let

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