Chapter 2
Claire
Plink,plink,plink-soft piano music filtered into my consciousness, snagging my attention. I shook my head, breaking the spell I had fallen under as I slipped through the pages of my book. I flipped it closed to marvel at the artwork on the cover and think about how right it felt to escape headfirst into another world.
I toyed with the soft blanket wrapped around me and stared into the blazing fire as I thought about my love of reading. Some may consider it escapism, but even if it is, sometimes that’s self-care. It was the single consistency in my whole life, yet I had forgotten it on my worst days.
I realized now how depressed I was living alone in that apartment. How traumatized I was by Charles Gains and the consequences of his actions. I would never deprive myself of that joy again, no matter how bad I believed things to be.
And theywereterrible. Mason's father still wanted us dead. Mason's oldest friend may be responsible for the explosion that killed Casey. The library I loved stood as a monument to slavery and human suffering. Things were incredibly fucked up, and I would hyperventilate if I thought too hard about them. I needed this escape now more than ever.
I pushed the distressing thoughts aside, dying to lose myself again in the fae smut. The effort came too late. I couldn't make sense of which parts were going where. The fae enjoyed a group fucking more than any average fantasy creature, but that wasn't enough to clear my mind of the impending danger.
Next came images of the future—if we survived. The one in which Mason killed his father, seized control, and then what? Instead of answers, I had a giant blank. He said he wanted me at his side and had made a genuine effort to make that possible. Still, I never wanted to be anything but a librarian. Quietly helpful, unobtrusive, the guardian of infinite worlds. The wife of a crime boss wasn't on the list.
Viscous panic gathered at the back of my throat, making it impossible to swallow. The primary fear of failure branched into many winding paths leading to our doom. Our deaths came next, a certainty in the face of our failings.
Next, my brain wildly spit images of the supposed victims of Charles Gains, forcing me to bear the guilt of all those prematurely ended lives. I nearly died in my apartment. Instead, I cheated death, leaving me feeling like I was living on borrowed time, and my luck could not last forever.
The image ofTyler'sface as he shot me struck me for a moment. No matter what his actual name was, that's how I knew him when he endeavored to end my life. His flesh withered from the splintered bone, transforming his face into a rotten death mask. The same haunting image regularly invaded my nightmares. It felt so real I almost curled into a ball and wept.
Instead, I swallowed hard. The muscles in my throat stuck like the tension was too much for me to work past. My gut rolled, threatening to unleash the bare contents of my stomach. I hummed, a stupid tip I learned in one of those clickbait videos everyone knows better than to watch. Remarkably, my nausea faded.
You know where everyone is. There is no immediate danger. Those girls' deaths are not your fault.
I repeated the words to myself to tamp down the barely contained anxiety-induced nausea. I was a mess, had been for a long time, and completely ashamed of my recent behavior. But Iwouldimprove things.
Drawing in deep breaths, I slogged through the torrent of panic and grief I was still learning to navigate. I made progress daily, but there would be no miracle cure for my problems.
Standing from the couch, I let the blanket fall as I walked to the window. I blew a breath against the glass, steaming the cold surface before tracing a little heart. In the distance, the lights of the suburbs glimmered and shined. Christmas displays of varying complexity lit up each block. Several roofs held sleighs, reindeer, and giant fat Santas. Projections of trees and candy canes flickered against the tall gates surrounding several of the mansions. Snow fell in fat flakes, making the scene rather idyllic.
I didn’t dislike winter, but fall was my favorite season, and I didn't have a moment to enjoy the transition this year. Between being shot, trying to recover, and the aftermath it was all a blur. I loved Halloween, pumpkins especially, and the promise of going back to school, where if I behaved, at least one person would take an interest in me.
I had no personal investment in Christmas, but I wondered how different I might feel if there was someone at home that cared about me. The holidays were lonely times and always brought a sense of guilt over not contacting my mother or profound disappointment if I reached out.
The freshly falling blanket of snow fit rather nicely, and I forced all thoughts of my mother out of my head. Where she was tonight didn't matter. She didn't want my help, and I didn't need the burden. Rather, my thoughts drifted back to the holiday party Kiana, and I threw at the library. I smiled, glad Mason didn't let me hide from it.
In fact, he accompanied me and stood beside me with his hand pressed to the small of my back, infusing me with all his strength and support. His other hand stayed within easy reach of his gun, and his vigilance made me feel better.
While Kiana and I planned the event together, the final execution and success were one hundred percent on her. If I ever returned to the library, I would sing her praises for the rest of my life.
Before Mason, I never would have had the guts to return after breaking into the basement. But, as suspected, Gavin never showed. No board members nor men in suits were waiting to take us away. The overall success of the event, however,wasasurprise. I had little experience with children, but their joy filled something hollow in me, if only temporarily.
I had been ignoring my grumbling stomach for the last hour. Sitting by the fire with a book proved rather cozy. Why would I want to be less warm? Plus, the trip to the kitchen seemed like an expedition to a far-off land. I didn't want to get up and trek across the house, but I was growing steadily hungrier.Hot cocoa and cookies in the snow are worth it, and you are already standing.At least, that's what I told myself as I peeled away from the window.
I slid on the designer slippers Mason bought for me, a far cry from the bunny slippers I used to wear, and left the room. The super high-definition photos lining the hall were lovely. Each showed a different angle of a skyscraper and how the morning light played with their glass surface. But they were not at all to my taste. Mason offered to let me redecorate, and I wondered how serious he was as I descended the stairs.I should take him up on it.
I stepped off the bottom step and onto the lower level when something in my peripheral vision caught my attention.Wait. Is that a…
I faced the open-concept living area. The floor-to-ceiling windows acted as mirrors, expanding the image. A roaring fire blazed in the central fireplace, crackling merrily. The warmth and glow would have dominated the space if not for the enormous Christmas tree standing beside it. The upper boughs and star nearly scraped the ceiling.
They pinned a giant wreath woven with red berries and pinecones above the fireplace. Streams of garland lined the mantelpiece, and a set of matching stockings that read “Mason” and “Claire” hung above the fire. The orange glow reflected off the baubles and ornaments covering the tree. Everything gleamed and sparkled. My mouth fell open in admiration.Holy shit, how pretty.
I drifted toward the tree with curious, outstretched fingers. The skirt extended in proportion to the tree, which was immense, making it look more like a blanket. The golden fabric rippled over the floor, adding a sense of drama. I felt like a little girl as I stood beneath it and poked at a bauble. I'd never been a little girl beneath a tree like this.
The pine scent of the real tree filled the air while little balls made of cinnamon sticks added to the aroma. Then, finally, something separate anddeliciouswafted into the room, interrupting my inspection.
My stomach grumbled.Baked Apples?These were all familiar smells, but I had never experienced them in a place I considered home.