Chapter 4

I hung up and looked at my father.

He was crouched in the corner, his hair mostly gray, his shoulders slumped like a withered tree stump.

Riverside Manor was less than a ten-minute drive.

Jessica sat on the living room sofa, peeling a tangerine from the fruit bowl. James stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back turned to me.

"You're here?" Jessica popped a slice into her mouth, chewing slowly. "Sit."

"I'm not trying to be cruel," she said. "But getting slapped out of nowhere? Anyone would demand an apology, right?"

I remained silent.

She smiled smugly. "Go ahead. Apologize."

"I'm sorry."

She tilted her head. "What? I didn't catch that."

"I'm sorry."

She sighed, crumpled a tissue, and tossed it into the trash. "Words are cheap. Get on your knees and slap yourself. When I think you've learned your lesson, we're even."

I stared at her, cold fury in my eyes.

She looked toward the window. "James, what do you think?"

James didn't turn around.

I dropped to my knees. The impact of my knees against the marble tiles made a dull thud.

I raised my hand and struck my own face.

Once. Twice. Three times.

My palm stung, my cheek burned, until pain turned into complete numbness.

"Are you satisfied?"

Jessica didn't answer. She was looking past me.

My phone rang in my pocket. I pulled it out with shaking hands.

"Hello?"

"Emily..." My father's broken voice shattered through the speaker. "Your mom is gone. The silver spread to her heart... she couldn't wait for the cure..."

The phone slipped from my fingers, shattering against the floor. Light bled through the cracked glass like a spiderweb.

I knelt there, staring at the shattered screen. The call timer was still running. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Footsteps approached. James knelt down, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Emily? What happened? Is it your mom...?" He hesitated. "Don't panic, I'll call right now and send the Healer back. I was only trying to teach you a lesson, I didn't actually—"

I lifted my head and looked at him.

I had looked at this face for ten years.

Outside the training grounds, in the Alpha Manor making soup for me, sleeping on the clinic bench while holding my hand.

Now, he looked like a complete stranger.

"James. My mother is dead."

"What?" His hand froze in midair, as if paused by a switch.

He blinked, staring at me. "What did you say?"

I held his gaze and repeated it slowly. "My mother is dead. The silver spread. She couldn't wait."

The words drifted from my throat, weightless, as if spoken by someone else.

All color drained from James's face.

He swayed as if struck by a physical blow, then lunged forward, grabbing my arms. "That's impossible! I had it under control! I only told the Healer to step out for a bit to make a point, I had guards watching—"

"Watching what?" I asked hollowly. "Watching her die?"

He froze. "No... Emily, that's not what I meant—"

"Then what did you mean?"

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

I took a step back. His hands slid off my arms.

Jessica rose from the sofa, her face pale as she stammered, "James, this isn't our fault! Mrs. Clark was already weak, she—"

"Shut up!" James whirled around, his eyes bloodshot.