Chapter 4
The blue suite was bigger than every apartment I had ever lived in combined.
A four-poster bed with curtains.
A sitting area with a fireplace.
A bathroom that had both a tub and a shower.
A walk-in closet with nothing in it.
“Tomorrow we’ll go shopping,” Evelyn said. “You’ll need everything. Clothes. Shoes. Books. Whatever you want.”
I stood in the middle of the room.
It was too much.
Too big.
Too bright.
I felt like I might disappear in all this space.
Evelyn seemed to read my mind.
She sat on the bed and patted the spot beside her.
“I know it’s overwhelming,” she said. “But you’re safe here. No one can hurt you. Not in this house. Not ever again.”
She told me about the security system.
Cameras everywhere.
Guards at every gate.
Men patrolling the grounds twenty-four hours a day.
“Nothing gets past them,” she said.
But I had heard that before.
Mom had said the same thing about our apartment in Brooklyn.
Right before the men kicked down the door.
Evelyn hugged me goodnight.
She kissed my forehead.
“I’ll be right down the hall if you need me,” she said.
Then she was gone.
The door clicked shut.
I was alone.
I walked around the room.
I touched things.
The silk curtains.
The marble fireplace.
The soft, soft carpet.
None of it felt real.
I kept waiting for someone to shake me awake.
To tell me I was still in the alley.
Still hungry.
Still cold.
I opened the window.
Cold air rushed in.
I leaned out.
The gardens stretched into darkness.
Somewhere far away, a dog barked.
And then I saw it.
A light.
Down by the west wall.
Moving fast.
Too fast for a guard.
Too quiet for an animal.
My heart stopped.
I slammed the window shut and locked it.
I backed away.
The room was suddenly too quiet.
Every creak of the old house sounded like footsteps.
Every shadow looked like a man in a dark coat.
I ran to the door.
Locked it.
Pushed the heavy armchair in front of it.
Then I climbed into the huge bed and pulled the covers over my head.
I didn’t sleep.
I couldn’t.
I lay there with my eyes wide open.
Listening.
Waiting.
At three in the morning, I heard it.
Footsteps.
In the hallway.
Outside my door.
Slow.
Heavy.
They stopped right outside.
I held my breath.
The doorknob turned.
Once.
Twice.
It was locked.
Whoever it was stood there for a long minute.
Then the footsteps moved away.
I didn’t move until the sun came up.
When Evelyn knocked at seven, I was still sitting up in bed.
Fully dressed in the clothes I had worn yesterday.
The chair still in front of the door.
“Luna?” she called. “Are you awake?”
I moved the chair and unlocked the door.
Evelyn took one look at my face.
“What happened?”
“Someone was outside my door last night,” I said. “At three. They tried the handle.”
Her face went pale.
She turned and shouted down the hall.
“Robert!”
He was there in seconds.
“Check the east wing hallway cameras,” she said. “Last night. Two a.m. to four a.m. Someone was outside Luna’s door.”
Robert was gone.
Evelyn sat beside me.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
She held me.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I thought this was the safest place in the world. I was wrong. I’ll double the guards. Triple them. No one gets near this floor.”
Robert came back ten minutes later.
His face was grim.
“Camera three in the east hallway was disabled,” he said. “From three-oh-two to three-eighteen. No footage.”
Evelyn stood.
Her hands were fists at her sides.
“Who else knows this house’s security system?”
“Only the family,” Robert said. “And the security team.”
“Check everyone,” she said. “Everyone. I don’t care if they’ve worked here for thirty years. If they touched that camera, I want them gone. And I want them arrested.”
She turned to me.
“Get your coat. We’re going to the hospital. You’re seeing your mother. Now.”
The drive to the city was silent.
Evelyn made phone call after phone call.
To her lawyer.
To the police commissioner.
To her doctor.
To someone who sounded like he ran a private army.
By the time we reached the hospital, the entire floor was locked down.
Uniformed police at the elevator.
Plainclothes detectives in the hallway.
More of Evelyn’s men.
Mom was in a private room at the end of the corridor.
She was asleep.
Tubes everywhere.
Bruises covering her face.
Her arm was in a cast.
Her jaw was wired shut.
I ran to the bed.
“Mom,” I whispered.
I took her hand.
It was cold.
So thin.
“Mom, I’m here. I found her. Grandma is here. We’re safe now.”
Her eyelids fluttered.
She squeezed my hand.
Once.
Weak.
But there.
Evelyn stood in the doorway.
She was crying again.
Quietly.
Like she didn’t want to disturb us.
A doctor came in.
“Mrs. Whitmore,” he said. “Can I speak with you outside?”
I heard them through the door.
“…the injuries are consistent with professional enforcers,” the doctor said. “Whoever did this knew exactly how to hurt her without killing her. At least not right away.”
“A message,” Evelyn said.
“Exactly. And the concussion… she may have memory gaps. About what happened. About who did this.”
“Will she remember?”
“Time will tell. But Mrs. Whitmore… if someone wanted to send a message, they succeeded. And if they wanted her silenced, they’ll come back. You need to be ready.”
I squeezed Mom’s hand tighter.
They would come back.
I knew it.
Because they had been coming for two years.
May you like
And this time, they weren’t just coming for Mom.
They were coming for me.
