His eyebrow raised and he nodded. “Bravo.”
“And the two who got away?”
I deleted the message and retyped the two names.
“Liam and Melody Callahan.”
Showing it to him, his eyes widened. “What?”
“They are alive,” I said aloud.
He took a step back, shaking his head. “I saw—”
“This,” I pointed to my bad shoulder. “Him. Everything else was her…unless you think I’m crazy.”
He gasped. “They are alive.”
“That’s what I said.”
“All these years, Ethan has never said anything? Does he not know?”
“He knows,” I answered. “He told me—”
“When, why didn’t you say anything—”
“Because even he was not fucking sure. If I told you, you’d be hunting ghosts. But then again, maybe that is what I should have done and gotten you off my goddamn back.”
He had the audacity to chuckle. “Those fucking snakes…wait. You did not plan for them?”
“Of course I didn’t plan for them. I made it work. Like I always do,” I grumbled, moving to step back into my Christian Louboutins.
“We are going to need to figure out—”
“No,” I said sternly. “You promised me a year.”
“They will come back.”
“Then protect me for fucking once!” I hollered.
Knock.
Knock.
Before I answered, the door opened, and Ethan stepped inside. He looked at my grandfather and then back to me.
“Why did you knock to enter your own room?” I asked him frowning.
“You have a guest,” he replied coldly, stepping over to me as I tried to rise.
I winced at the pain in my ankles. Normally this would be a breeze, but they were bruised, too. Ethan held me as I began to sway.
“Thanks—”
“Who did this?” he asked me again.
“Who did what? My shoes?”
“Not your fucking shoes, Calliope!” he snapped. “Who were the two that attacked us?”