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My eyes darted around, expecting the Mask to pop out from the shadows.
“Please, Kinsley, we need to know if she is breathing?”
My heart stopped. I looked down into my lap. Autumn. Was the woman shouting at me, talking about her? I couldn’t quite feel the rise and fall of her ribs against mine.
Oh no.
Frantically, I looked for Summer or Winter. They would know what to do. But neither of them were there. Only the blood. It was everywhere. The smell of copper hit the back of my throat, thick and metallic.
Hide. We should hide.
I wrapped my body around Autumn as best I could and squeezed my eyes shut. I buried her face against my neck. If I held her this way, they couldn’t see her. I was her shield. I could protect her. Summer would come. Winter would come. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.
“Stay away!”
Diamond froze.
“Don’t touch her.”
All logic was gone. I threw my head back and screamed.
I screamed for Isabella. For Pasha. For Arianna and Anastacia. For every terrible thing that had ever happened to us.
And once I started, I couldn’t stop.
With Andy coming home early, I had the perfect excuse to join the girls. I wiggled my toes, already debating colors. Last time I’d gone with a pale pink. Andy always preferred scarlet red. Said it reminded him of temptation.
Contrast that with Alek, who loathed red and had strictly forbidden Kinsley from wearing it in any capacity. Even at Christmas.
Men were ridiculous. Okay, Kinsley’s were. Mine, on the other hand, was perfect.
Sitting in the back of the car, I smiled to myself as the city blurred past the window. Andy and I had spent half the morning talking about tonight’s meeting. The more Isabella worried, the more convinced I became that everything would be fine.
Charles glanced at me through the rear-view mirror. “Ms. Laurent, will we be making any other stops after this one?”
“Yes. The girls and I are getting our toes done afterward.”
“Fancy. The regular place?”
“I think so. Kinsley will have booked the appointments.”
He laughed. “Fair enough.”
A few minutes later, he pulled up outside the studio.
“I can get the door, Charles.”
“You sure? Dr. Marcel will have my ass if he thinks I’m slacking.”
I chuckled this time. “It’s fine. Grab yourself a tea. Isabella should be done in twenty minutes. Thirty at the most.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. I’ll call when we’re just about ready.”
He nodded. “Of course, Ms. Laurent. I think I’ll do a little reading while I wait.”
I watched him pull a novel from the front seat. Fantasy. Always fantasy. One day I’d convince him to read romantasy. Maybe one of mine. I climbed out and headed toward the studio. The bell above the door chimed. Then my heart stopped.
