Chapter Twenty-Six

I look down at my phone for the hundredth time since we left, checking the messages and finding none. A lump forms in my throat with worry over Jaxon and whether he's alive. It's been an hour, and I shared my location with him as soon as we pulled out of the driveway. I still haven't heard from him, and I'm terrified that Dad killed him, even though I left when he told me to.

"You won't ever see him again, Dahlia, so stop checking your phone," Mom says.

I drop my cell on my lap and glare at her, wishing it's enough to kill her on the spot. "You're lying."

Her lips flatten. "Why would I lie about something like this?"

"You're answering with a question. Proof enough that you're lying."

Mom rolls her eyes and looks back at the road. "Strange logic," she mutters.

"Speak up, Mom. I can't hear you." I smirk and pat myself on the back .

She glares at me like that's enough to damage me more than I already am, then presses harder on the gas. The engine purrs louder. "I don't know why you're so ungrateful and horrible to me."

I guffaw and cover my mouth in a lame attempt to hide my smile. " Me ? Horrible to you ?"

Her lower lip wobbles as she holds back the sobs building in her chest. I know they're crocodile tears. I've seen them countless times. At this point, I'm immune to them. She manipulates everyone—especially me—with her tears because her wittle feelings matter more.

"I'm a good mother," she says with a dramatic sniffle. "I raised you the best I could. My mother wasn't good to me, and I promised myself that I'd treat my daughter so much better. But you still turned out the way you did. I didn't realize how disgusting of a human you are, Dahlia. Having sex with your brother is wrong, and you know it."

I swear I see my brain when I roll my eyes. "How's being a good mom working out for you?"

I bypass her snide remarks about me and Jaxon. She can judge all she wants. I'm done with her shit, and I'm done with the world's shit. Love is love, and what Jaxon and I have is special.

She gasps, her jaw dropping. "I don't know what I did to deserve this treatment. I'm your mother."

"You keep saying that," I say, and shake my head as I look out the passenger window, finding the scenery more interesting. "If you have to keep saying that, then deep down, you know that you've been a terrible mom."

"I was a good mother to you," she snaps. "Did you not have a good childhood? Was I not there for you? Have I failed somewhere along the way?"

I know this act. She's fishing for me to pander to her feelings and coo, No, you were a great mom. I had such an awesome childhood. You never celebrated my birthday, then ignored me when it suited you, then snapped orders at me like I'm waiting on you hand and foot.

But I say none of that. I ignore her, choosing to sidestep her woe-is-me trap. I hate her mood swings. I despise everything about her and what she's done to me. If she thinks I'm a terrible daughter now, she needs to look at herself and realize I'm the monster she created. A neglected child can only tolerate so much before they bite back.

Jaxon said he'd kill her and our dad, and as much as I'm against murder, I wish my mom wasn't here anymore. I want to be somewhere safe, not somewhere I'm constantly ignored and hated. I'm sick of being someone's punching bag. With Jaxon, I felt wanted, loved, needed, and safe. He's given me more in life than my shitty mom could.

Tears well in my eyes, and I swipe them away. Now I won't see Jaxon until who knows when. With every minute that passes, the feeling of dread sinks deeper.

What if something really did happen to him?

No. I can't think about that. For once, I need to think positive. Jaxon is alive. He'll find me and bring me back with him to somewhere we can live alone together.

I cling to that hope for the next hour as we ride in silence on the highway.

Mom takes the next exit and finds a gas station. She parks at a pump and sits there. I feel her gaze on me, silently demanding I look at her, but I refuse to give her anything.

"Stay here," Mom says. She exits the car, and the door slams behind her before she storms across the parking lot to the station's front door.

I check my cell, hoping to see a message and, once again, I'm let down. The ball of worry eats at me until I'm nothing but raw nerves. Scenarios of what happened to Jaxon after I left fly in my mind, each one worse than the last.

Besides us, the gas station lot is empty. If someone else had been here, I would have approached them about taking me back to Vail. Or at least halfway so I can find a different ride.

Or...I could just stop feeling bad about myself and take Mom's car.

I look at the driver's side, where the keys dangle from the ignition. After checking if the coast is clear, I groan and slump into my seat. Speak of the devil. Mom walks out of the station, sunglasses on, and she's already frowning.

Next stop, then.

There is no next stop, and I want to kick my own ass.

The sun has set, and we're at an expensive five-star hotel hours out of town. Mom ordered a five-course meal half an hour ago, which I refuse to eat out of spite.

I sit on one of the queen-sized beds, facing the balcony where she sits outside at the table with her plate of food. She acts like she doesn't care and falls back into how she's treated me my whole life, by ignoring me and enjoying a glass of white wine.

Her phone rings, and she looks at the caller ID before she answers it. The heavy plating on the back doors makes it difficult for me to hear her voice and understand what she says. Whoever is on the other end says something upsetting because she clenches her jaw and snaps at them. She must feel my gaze on her because she turns and gives me the "shoo" gesture.

Fine. I'll find out later who she's talking to and what they said.

Deep down, I feel like it has to do with Jaxon. Why else would she be so upset and tell me to go away?

I grab the keycard and my phone before I leave the room. I would've taken the car keys, but for once, Mom was smart enough to hide them from me.

The door glides shut behind me, and I go down the large hallway to the elevator. As I wait for it, I dial Jaxon's number and hold my phone to my ear. It rings several times, and with each passing second, my heart picks up its pace until the organ is slamming against my ribcage. I swallow hard around the lump forming in my throat and fight back the tears as the call goes to voicemail. The jerk didn't set it up to where I can hear his voice; instead, I'm greeted by the automated recording.

The elevator doors slide open, and I raise my head, sniffing back the tears. I stop mid-step when I notice the gigantic figure in all black with a crimson demon mask.

It's not Halloween. Why are they dressed like that?

The hairs on the back of my neck stand as an uneasy feeling washes over me.

The stranger cocks their head, and the feeling of their gaze slowly raking over my body sends a chill down my spine. I take a step back.

I'll wait for the next elevator.

The masked man follows me—and I'm almost certain it's a man now—and I scramble away from him. I yelp as he grabs my arm, yanks me into him and turns me so that my back is to his chest. I scream and fling myself out of his grasp, only for him to snatch me against him again.

The doors slide shut, closing me in with this sick bastard. Jaxon's name is the first thing I scream as the stranger covers my mouth with his gloved hand. I stare wide-eyed into the mirror across from us as he pulls a capped needle out of his jacket pocket. He expertly flicks off the cap and sticks the needle into my neck, pushing the plunger to inject me with whatever drug is inside it.

My legs give out from under me. I try to kick him or even jab him in the gut with my elbow, but my movements are sluggish as the drug courses through my veins like magma burning my blood.

Jaxon's name curls on my numbing tongue as I fight back the urge to pass out. Black dots ebb from the corners of my vision and creep into the middle, acting as a countdown to the moment of unconsciousness. It feels as if my head expands into a numb balloon, and a ringing shrills in my ears as sleep grips me. Whatever the hell this asshole injected me with is strong, and my fight fizzles out of me.

I slump in the man's arms, and everything goes black.