Page 112 of A Light in the Darkness
“I guess that’s a good thing.” I say, flipping my hair off my shoulder. “Seeing as there are some kids around here who keep calling me that.”
Her giggle is short but loud and full of joy.
Most of the kids have adjusted fabulously. Misty is no exception, though sheisexceptional at everything else. She’s my biggest ally with getting the younger kids to eat their vegetables, she reads (albeit haltingly) to the toddlers before bed every night, and she is my biggest cheerleader. Every time I doubt what I’m doing, she’s there to wrap her little arms around my growing middle. At thirteen, I don’t think she has any concept yet of what life might have been like if none of it ever happened. If she hadn’t been stolen from her mother on their sightseeing trip to the desert, who knows what she’d be up to instead of acting like a mini mom to a bunch of orphans? And if we hadn’t found them when we went to retrieve Kent’s wife, who knows where in the world she would have ended up. Sold to a family who desperately wanted a kid of their own? Sold to someone who would force her to grow up ahead of schedule?
If I have my way, these kids will never know what horrors the world is capable of. It’s a ridiculous belief that I can shelter them all, particularly given that many of them already witnessed their own parents being murdered so they could be taken. No amount of counseling or pseudo-parenting can make up for that trauma, but we’re trying.
I named our home the Lighthouse, and all thirteen kids are legally under our care. Wes reached out to his friend who helpedhim find Kent’s wife and he ran them through his database, but every one of them was erased.
I’ve always heard it takes a village, and that is probably especially true considering we’ve got a village full of children. They outnumber us, but between all of us, it works. Remy and I moved into the house right after he got out of the hospital—we didn’t plan it that way, but it’s become our home. Rhea joined us with Dimitri a few weeks later. Kent showed up one day and never left.
Then there are the rest of them—Michael, who pops in and out regularly like the fun Uncle, and Wes, who really despises Michael being favored over him. I don’t love him being around and he’s forbidden from being alone with any of them, but he always weasels his way back in. There’s also my sister, who I’ve now spoken probably thirty words to (progress is progress, even when it’s slow), and the senator with his two little ones—my half siblings. I don’t know how I’m supposed to regard them, knowing I’m the one who stole their mother from them. They’re a little scared of me, probably because they can sense that I’m terrified of them, but they’ve made fast friends with most of the children here, and they adore Violet… their older sister who actuallyactslike one.
Of all the relationships I’ve worked at these last few months, it’s the one with my father that I value most. It’s the one I never knew I needed, but it fills a part of me that I didn’t realize was hollow. The first time he got me alone, we just talked about Lauren… my mother. It’s impossible not to feel the love that he still has for her, even twenty-two years later from the other side of the grave. It reminds me that love isn’t finite—it doesn’t expire if it’s tended well enough.
He's also surprisingly good with children, and the only one I trust to leave alone with them. He’s the one who’s watching them today while Remy takes me ‘out’. He’s been cryptic about where we’re headed.
The bruises and scars have finally faded, and the hemorrhaging on my eyes is gone. I feel good… really good. It’s like all the pieces ofwho I was and who I’ve wanted to be are coming together, finally. I never would have guessed I could be a killer and a mother, but apparently, I have layers.
The ringing of my phone catches my attention. I pause at the name on the caller ID.
“Moose?” I ask, lifting it to the crook of my ear instead of putting it on speakerphone, all too aware of how Misty’s keen eyes appraise my every move.
“Hey, princess.” His voice is deep, but it sounds… sad. I’ve never known him to sound so hopeless, so empty. It immediately sets alarm bells off in the back of my head.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, trying to stay calm. I turn to Misty, and in a lower voice ask her, “Can you find me my sweater? In case it’s cold at the restaurant.”
I see the suspicion in her eyes, but she scampers to my closet and rifles through it all the same.
“Moose.” I prompt. “Are you okay?”
His laugh is rye, and I try to imagine where he is, what he’s doing. “No.” There’s a half second where I think he may break into sobs, but all I hear is a sniffle. “But I will be. I’m actually calling to check on you.”
“Me?” I laugh as Misty brandishes the cardigan with a triumphant grin. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” He asks. “Because you said you were fine the whole time I was hired to shadow you, and you were not fine, it turns out.”
I pause, wondering how much he knows. “I wasn’t.” I agree. “But I am now. Actually,” I see Misty standing behind me in our reflection, watching the skirt of her dress flow out in a circle. “I’m great.”
“Mmm.” He sounds a little unconvinced. “So, no more running off on your own to take down the bad guys, then?”
Not right now, at least. I won’t put my family in danger—not a single one of them. “How did you hear about that?”
His chuckle is dark, not entirely amused. “I hear a lot of shit in this profession, princess.”
I can imagine his head tipped over a glass of whiskey. “It’s good to hear from you.” I tell him honestly.
I didn’t even realize I missed him until I saw his name light on my phone. Despite my misguided attempts to throw myself at him, and as much as I gave him shit for stalking me, we became friends toward the end.
“You too, Monroe.” I can practically hear the smirk in his voice.
I can sense he’s about to hang up, but there’s something that needs to be said. And I guess I’m the one who needs to say it, so I rush out. “I miss you, you know?”
“My charming personality?” He chuckles. “Who could blame you?”
I roll my eyes, sighing. “Just… take care of yourself, okay?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m taking care of a lot of things right now.”
