CLICK.
He slumps over, falling from the couch to the floor with a thud, no longer moving. No longer breathing.
I shove the gun away and walk out, keeping my head down. Seven still sits behind the wheel, driving away as soon as I’m beside him.
“Where to, boss?” he asks.
“Home,” I say quietly. “It’s over.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Cowardly Lion lived in a gloomy castle.
Or so it felt like it to the little girl. It wasn’t beside the beach, like the palace, although it seemed to be just as big. Maybe even bigger. This place was cold, and dark, and off on its own. Isolated.
Some of the flying monkeys stayed there, too, along with some women, a rotating door of people, which meant there was always somebody around to watch her. They didn’t act like she was invisible. No, they acted like she was a prisoner, like a princess locked away in a tower.
“Hey, sweet girl,” the Cowardly Lion said one night, appearing in the room she’d been kept in, where she’d been spending all day, every day, with nothing more than a mattress and a small television, letting her watch cartoons for the first time in months.
The people in the house were upset about something, yelling at each other about some club somewhere that maybe got raided by somebody or something. She didn’t know. She didn’t like their talking, so she just kept turning the volume up on the television.
She said nothing to the Cowardly Lion. Not because she wanted to be mean. She just had nothing to say to him.
“Are you not speaking to me?”
Nothing.
“Have I made you upset?”
Nothing.
Stepping into the room, he walked over, blocking her from seeing the movie on the screen. It was Toy Story, but part two, the one where Woody got stolen. She scowled, thinking he’d turn the volume down, but instead, he shut it off.
“Hey!” she said. “I was watching Woody!”
“Too bad,” he said. “Maybe you should not have ignored me.”
She let out a noise of annoyance that made him laugh, like he thought she was being funny. “I don’t got nothing to say.”
“You don’t have to say a word,” he said, “but you do have to get up and come with me, because it is time for you to go.”
“Go where?” she asked, her stomach in knots.
“Go home,” he said, leaving it at that.
Home. That word used to make the little girl’s heart soar, but now her insides soured.
“I can’t go. He don’t want me.”
“Who?”
“Daddy.”
The Cowardly Lion gave her a sad smile. “I’ve spoken to him. He agreed that you could come home now. In fact, there is a surprise waiting for you, one that will make you very happy.”
Buster, she thought. Maybe he saved Buster.
The little girl got up, leaving with him, quiet as they drove away from the dark castle, heading back to the palace. It was chaotic when they finally arrived, cars and people and noises all around.
“Shit, shit, shit...” The Cowardly Lion chanted, not even bothering to shut off the car, leaving it running when he pulled to a stop. “Come on.”
Before the little girl understood what was happening, he yanked her out of the car, leaving the door wide open. Her heart raced wildly as she looked around outside. She didn’t recognize the people she saw. They all watched them, frozen, like ice sculptures with wide eyes, holding guns.
Guns.
The little girl felt sick.
She thought she might throw up.
The Cowardly Lion dropped her to her feet on the porch, pushing on the front door. It was already cracked open—no locks, no alarm. The little girl had never seen it like that before.
Noises hit her from inside, strangled noises, gasping breaths. The little girl blinked rapidly, scared by the sound. Tears burned her eyes but she tried not to cry.
“Go on, sweet girl,” the Cowardly Lion said. “Your surprise is waiting.”
She walked into the foyer, taking small steps. Someone was crying, curled into a ball on the floor. The little girl crept closer, alarmed, as something inside of her got all tangled up.
A man knelt there, his face slashed with a big scar, but the little girl only vaguely noticed he existed at all. No, her attention was fixed to the woman hunched over. She could hardly believe it. Her eyes were cloudy from tears, but she could still see her so clearly.
“Morgan,” the guy said, standing up. “Open your eyes, baby.”
The woman looked, the sight of her nearly crippling, the little girl’s knees going weak. Mommy. She was there, right in front of her, not asleep anymore. Her eyes were open, looking straight at her. “Sunshine?”
The little girl trembled. “Mommy?”
The woman opened her arms, sobbing, and that was all it took. Emotion flooded through the little girl as she launched herself right at her.
“You found me, Mommy. You found me!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Buster.
It’s the first thing I see when I open the front door. It falls over, halfway in the house, halfway on the porch, the decrepit teddy bear propped up there. The moment my eyes meet it, my insides drop. My heart stops. Breath hitching, my gaze scans the area around the house, caught off guard.
It’s near dawn, the sun slowly rising, lightening the quiet neighborhood. Nothing looks out of place.
No familiar cars.
No familiar faces.
No Lorenzo.
I left the bear at his house. I know. I saw it the morning Kassian showed up. It had been lying in the unmade bed, tangled up with the sheets.
Reaching down, I carefully pick it up before stepping out onto the porch, keeping the front door open behind me, to listen inside, in case Sasha wakes up. I just need some fresh air. I need out of there.
Coming back here was harder than I imagined.
Sighing, I sit down on the top step, hugging the bear as I stare out at the neighborhood. It’s strange, you know. I lived here for years. We built a life in this house, found happiness within these walls, loved beneath the sloped, dark roof, and for months after it all fell apart, I yearned to be back here. But stepping inside now, all I feel is the heartache. I feel the void. The violence. The pain.
When I walk the halls, I feel the fear I felt that night, when Kassian showed up at the front door under the cloak of darkness, and I told Sasha to hide. When I step into the kitchen, I feel hands around my throat, squeezing the life out of me, stealing my soul.
It doesn’t feel like home anymore.
“Mommy?”
Sasha’s voice is quiet, guarded, as it rings out behind me in the doorway. I turn my head, looking back at her as she eyes me warily. I didn’t hear her approach. So much unlike the little girl who grew up in this house, who couldn’t ever seem to tiptoe because she danced when she walked. She has always been good at hiding, but she’d learned to sneak around, learning to not make a sound. I can’t even bring myself to dwell on how that came about.
“Hey, sunshine,” I say, giving her a smile. “Somebody else wants to say hello, too.”
Her eyes flicker around, alarmed. “Who?”