Page 89 of Shattered Souls
I didn’t even realize he was carrying.
“Is there anyone else here?” he demands in an icy-cold voice that matches the brutal savagery in his eyes.
The guy stutters out a quickno,and I waste no time. I take off, shouting, “Aurora? Aurora, sweetie, are you here? It’s Mommy!” I race down the hallway, throwing open closed doors, until I stall in the doorway of the last room.
My heart leaps into my chest. My legs go weak. I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing. Is this real? A strangled sort of noise escapes my lips, and I bring my hand up to cover my mouth, not wanting to wake her. With quiet steps, I creep into the room, not so much as daring to blink in case the sight before me vanishes.
There, tucked into a bed beneath pale pink covers, is my little girl. My pride and joy. The entire reason for my being. I don’t even realize I’m crying until tears hit the back of my hand. I fall to my knees at her bedside and reach out a trembling hand but stop inches away from her head, too scared to touch her in case none of this is real—in case it’s some figment of my imagination, another dream. I don’t think I could handle that.
Finally, slowly, I let my fingers brush her hair. Air rushes past my dry lips as my fingers stroke the soft strands. “It’s you,” I cry, sobbing quietly. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”
She shifts beneath the covers, rolling over and making all my dreams come true as her sleepy eyes crack open. She blinks at me for a moment, as if equally unsure whether what she’s seeing is real. Her voice is laden with sleep as she croaks, “Mommy?”
“Hi, baby.” Despite my sniffles, my voice is soft and reassuring.
“Mommy, you’re here.”
“Yeah, baby. Mommy’s here.” She shuffles right to the end of the bed, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing with all her strength.
“Mommy, can we go home now?”
I half-laugh, half-cry, my emotions a messy, indecipherable whirlpool. “Yeah, baby. We’re gonna go home now.”
Grabbing a blanket from the end of her bed, I wrap it around her before hauling her into my arms. Some hollowed-out part of me comes back to life at feeling her beating heart against my chest. Her breath on my neck. The weight of her in my arms.
I might never let her go again.
I do a quick sweep of the room, noting the couple of toys and books and scattered clothing. I have no intention of taking any of it with us. Everything else in the room can burn for all I care.
“Keep your head down and eyes closed,” I whisper to her before leaving the room. I have no idea what to expect when we reach the living room. I haven’t heard any sounds of fighting or a struggle, but just in case, I don’t want her to see anything she shouldn’t.
Logan’s at my side the second I re-enter the living room, hands clasped to the back of Aurora’s head. I keep my gaze focused on the door, not daring to glance toward where Graysonand Royce stand over David, who’s now sitting on the sofa, pale and sweaty.
“Come on, Shortcake,” Logan encourages, one hand at my back and the other protectively on Aurora as he escorts us from the apartment. “I’ll take you home and come back for those two.”
Once we’re in the hallway and I’ve lifted my hand from Aurora’s head, he coos at her. “Hello, sweetheart. Long time no see. Tell me this: is pink still the best color?” I could kiss him right there for bringing a heartbreaking smile to my little girl’s face.
“Duh,” she says in a voice that assures me everything will be okay. “Pink’s always the best.”
The way Logan smiles at her, the sparkle in his eyes, it’s clear he’s already head over heels in love with my little girl. “Truer words have never been spoken,” he agrees.
I wait until she is settled on my knee in the car before asking, “Are you okay, baby?” What I want to know is if either of them touched her. Hurt her in any way, but I can’t be that direct.
She nods, her head resting against me and eyes droopy.
I give Logan a worried look, but he merely smiles reassuringly back at me, squeezing my knee before starting the car and driving us home.
“Home?” Aurora mumbles.
“Yeah, baby. We’re going home. You and I are going to climb into bed and sleep; how does that sound?”
She gives another tired nod, burying deeper into me. Her fist hasn’t let go of my top since I lifted her out of bed, and it messes me up to see how afraid she is that I’ll just disappear on her.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper into her ear. “I won’t ever leave you.” Tears burn in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
This is good. Regardless of everything else, I’m holding my daughter in my arms.
It’s surreal.
