Page 13 of Darkness of Mine
River’s hand curls into a fist. “She doesn’t get that choice.”
“River, enough.” Carmen’s voice hardens.
“Cameron Isabella Scott-Grimaldi.”
My eyes flick open at the name River just dropped. I haven’t heard it in years, but I doubt there’s a single person in America who doesn’t know the name. Cameron Isabella was the daughter of former Senator Scott. She was nine years old when she disappeared but that must have been about twenty years ago now.
Cameron was never found, she was assumed dead, but the silence radiating from the other end of the phone makes me think that’s not the case. From what Freya’s told us, Carmen would be about the right age…
“What do you want?” she finally asks.
Holy shit.
“Where’s Freya?”
“She needs time to process everything that’s happened to her.”
“And she can have that time. But she’ll have it withus.”
More silence.
“If you know who I am, then you know I’m not easily blackmailed. I can keep her safe here, River.”
River picks up the phone and leans back in his chair. “What about when she sneaks off to try and stop her brother when she finds out he’s taken another girl?”
Carmen knows as well as we do that Freya has a self-sacrificing streak a mile long. If she thinks someone is being hurt because of her, there’s nothing she won’t do to save them.
Carmen’s silence has River sitting forward. “She doesn’t know, does she? You haven’t told her.”
“She’s not exactly in a state to be reading the news.”
“And how long do you think you can keep that up? She’ll find out eventually, Carmen,” River warns.
He stands up and runs a hand through his dark hair. “Let us come and get her. We’ll keep her safe and catch Zach. Freya thought she was protecting everyone by running, when she finds out that’s not true you won’t be able to keep her there and you know it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“I’m done negotiating,Cameron. Let us bring her home.”
I grip my biceps as I lean against the wall. I can feel how close we are to finding her like a buzz under my skin. Freya’s days of hiding are over.
That’s how this works, kitten. You run. We chase.
7
FREYA
The hot air from the oven steams my face and I hold still for a second too long, getting lost in the burn. The brief pain dissipates like it was never there and I shake myself out of it, making a conscious effort to stay in the present, in the warm kitchen overlooking the snowy slopes. In the smell of brownies and the mess we’ve made of the countertops.
I’m okay. I’m still here. I’m still breathing.
I take the latest batch of brownies out of the oven and Samuel, Rebekah’s kid brother, stands up on his stool to peer over.
“Are they done?”
I put the tray on the breakfast bar between us and wave the cake tester in the air. “Want to do the stabby thing?”
Samuel nods, his face sticky with brownie batter. The thin skewer comes out a little tacky, gooey chocolate clinging to the silver. Samuel checks in with me and I give him the ‘okay’ sign.
