“Wait!” She dogs my steps as I walk into the night. “Adam, please.”
I keep going.
“It’s about your mother,” she hisses.
I stop. “What did you say?”
“I need to talk to you about your mother. Tonight. Please?”
She’s playing a game. She has to be. But she’s dangled the right bait, and now I have to bite. “Why can’t you just say it now?”
She shakes her head. “Tonight. In the punishment circle. Midnight.”
I grab a handful of her dress right below her throat and shake her. “If this is some sort of stupid trick to—”
“It’s not!” she squeaks. “I swear.”
Footsteps behind me have me releasing her.
Abigail, the oldest Spinner, hurries past and enters the door code.
Grace turns her sharp eye on the woman. “What are you doing out this late?”
“Had to order some things for the larder and forgot to do it earlier.” She misses the code and tries again.
Grace gives me one more look. “Midnight,” she whispers. Then she turns and follows Abigail inside, berating her all the way.
I lean my head back and stare at the crescent moon that peers at me from behind wispy clouds. If Grace crosses me tonight, I can’t guarantee that I won’t drag her to the creek and drown her just like I’ve fantasized about a million times. Not even Delilah’s calming influence can abate the rage I have for that treacherous bitch, and I doubt anything ever will.
The moon is higher now, the clouds dissolving under its light. I keep my hands stuffed in my pockets, a pistol warming against my right palm. Leaning against a tree at the edge of the punishment clearing, I wait for Grace to show.
The ground is still scuffed in the spot where I beat Davis not that long ago, the three sturdy crosses at the edge of the clearing casting their moon shadow along the indentations in the dirt.
I can’t feel the tip of my nose, and the time is ticking past midnight. I’ve almost decided to leave when I hear an engine on the main road of the compound. The headlights are off, but I can see the black Mercedes creeping along the gravel road, the tires crunching loud in the quiet night.
When it stops, Grace exits the passenger side. I can’t see the driver, and I don’t like that one fucking bit.
She hurries to the center of the clearing, her gaze sweeping around but not finding me. I could leave now, just disappear into the night and leave her. Foolishly, I don’t.
I whistle as I step from behind a wide pine and walk to her, but I keep my peripheral vision on the car.
“You’re here.” She states the obvious like a real pro.
“What do you want?” I cast a direct glance to the sedan. “Who’s driving?”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” She beams, and I can see the slightest glimpse of the innocent girl I broke so many years ago. It disgusts me. Just like I disgust me.
“Get on with it.”
She motions to the car. The engine dies, and I grip my gun tighter, pulling it to the edge of my pocket. When the door opens and Castro steps out, I pull the gun all the way, leveling it at him.
“Adam, wait.” Grace doesn’t touch me, but hovers right at my elbow as Castro shoots me a surly glare, then walks to the back door and opens it.
My hand falters and drops when my mother steps out.
Chapter 25
Adam
Gut punched, I watch as Castro leads my mother to the middle of the circle.
“Adam.” She reaches out and pulls me to her, the same scent rushing to my nose that I remember from my childhood—some sort of floral soap or perfume that I’ve never smelled anywhere else.
“Mom.” I bring her in close. “What is this?” My mind starts churning before I’m over the shock. If she can get out like this, maybe taking her and Delilah away from here will be easier than I thought. Maybe I can do it tonight, right now. Maybe—
“Adam.” She rubs my back, then lets me go. “We have plans, and it’s time you knew about them.”
“Plans?” I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s here, real, and no one to stop me from whisking her away—except Castro. But I have no problem dropping him and leaving him for the Protectors to find.
He takes my mother’s elbow, but not roughly, not in his usual asshole sort of way.
“What the fuck is going on?” I glance to the tree line, amazed that Noah hasn’t broken cover and come out here to marvel right along with me, but he’s staying put just like I told him.
“We don’t have long before I’m missed.” Mom stares up at me, her eyes the same blue as Noah’s, though it’s hard to tell in the moonlight. “The Father of Fire has spoken to me, and I know that a new Prophet will rise very soon. We’ve worked hard to make this happen. It’s been in the works for years.” She smooths her hands down my arms. “And we know that you are the perfect successor to your father’s seat. You will be the new Prophet. The Father of—”