29. Livana

Chapter 29

Livana

" T he silly dearest fell," she says in a tone loud enough for the Collector to hear.

The Treasure.

My mother .

She reaches for my hand, urging me to my feet and smiling graciously at everyone who happened to glance at our little scene.

Shock chokes any rational thought and logical words from my mind. I watch in stunned silence as she moves, looking just like she did when I was a youngling, only this time she's embracing the Collector and kissing him instead of my father.

My stomach rolls at the sight, at the betrayal slicing through me.

She's been alive this entire time?

This whole time I thought she burned with my father, thought she'd been brutally murdered by the collector core under the Collector's orders.

She's been alive this entire time, living a life of luxury with the Collector while I was on the streets, unsure how to feed without killing someone. I almost died over a dozen times because I was alone and didn't know how to take care of myself, and my own mother...

She let me believe she was dead. She let me believe that she'd been murdered. Let me fester a hatred for the male she's now kissing.

Hatred boils up in me like a hot spring, my power ricocheting inside of me and demanding release.

I don't think.

I don't feel anything other than rage.

And it feels good to let it take over.

Her eyes are on me, calculating as ever in an arrogant way I've never seen before.

I don't give a fuck.

I draw my hand back, releasing a well of my power, aiming straight for her and the Collector's neck?—

She waves her hand, deflecting it like I'd sent a splash of water their way. She moves past the Collector, who didn't see the attack thanks to the conversation he's wrapped up in. She steps into my path, glaring at me.

"That was naughty," she says, clicking her tongue at me. "You have so much more to learn."

Tears well in my eyes, her condescending tone making me feel like I'm six years old again.

She snaps her fingers, her eyes glancing down to my chest, and my heart immediately stutters out of pace.

I gasp for breath, my eyes widening as I back away from her, pawing at my chest, trying to ease the erratic jumps.

I bump into Gray, doing my best to breathe, but my heartrate is out of control, my fingers tingling, my chest aching?—

My mother…my own mother is using my heart condition against me.

Triggering it.

My power isn't enough to get past her.

I failed. I failed them.

There is no beating her. Not when my power is only half of what she possesses…was created by her.

I can't breathe.

The party continues around us, no one the wiser to what is happening between me and her.

I cling to the rest of my power, knowing if I'm going to die, I'm going to release it blindly into the room in one last effort?—

Don't , a scribble of gold flashes over my forearm, the tingling sensation of the tattoo drawing my attention.

I stare at it, confused as to why Six would write such a thing, but ignore it, drawing that power to my numb fingertips again.

Don't , he writes again. There will be plenty of time for that later.

I furrow my brow at the tattoo, my mind whirling, my heart racing, the breath so thin in my lungs my head is spinning. The marble floor starts to tilt, and I fall backward.

Gray catches me, scooping me up in his arms and whisking me off of the dance floor, through the crowded ballroom, and into the cold, empty hallway outside of it.

I've got you , another tattoo shines across my other arm as Gray drops to the floor with me in his lap, his free hand digging in his pocket and retrieving one of my vials, uncorking it with his teeth.

"I've got you," he says aloud, and my heart continues to race as my body stops working. "Take this," he says, bringing the vial to my lips.

I swallow the powder down, sighing as my heart jolts a few times before taking up its normal rhythm. My head lulls back, leaning against Gray's muscled bicep as I stare at up at him, feeling the heavy weight of unconsciousness threatening to pull me down.

"Six?"

"Hello, my Matched."

THE END