Perfect Villain (Dark Lies Duet 1)

Cynthia’s forehead creases, and she grabs me by the arm, tugging me inside before slamming the door and locking it. I take a few wobbly steps toward the sofa. My entire world is being flipped upside down.

“Okay, first, you need to calm down.”

“Calm down?” My voice cracks. “How can I calm down when I feel like I’ve screwed everything up? If not for me, this man wouldn’t be after us. We wouldn’t be skipping towns and changing names every few years.”

Cynthia’s the closest person I have to a mother, and I would never want to risk her getting hurt. She understands my fears and anger better than anyone because she’s been with me through it all. She is the only constant in my life, and I can’t let anything happen to her. I can’t be selfish because it’s not only my life at risk here.

Sensing how close to the edge I am, she takes the spot beside me on the sofa and places her hand on my knee. Her closeness brings me comfort, but it doesn’t extinguish the fears playing on repeat in my mind.

“It was only a note, right?”

“Yes, a note that says Sei Mio. Why would he leave a note that says you’re mine?”

Her green eyes, which mimic my own, turn soft.

“I’m not sure, but I think we should think this through before we make any rash decisions. Was there any suspicion of a break-in? Maybe it’s an old note that fell out of one of your bags? We’ve worked hard to have the life we have now. I don’t want to toss it away because of a miscommunication or something that might be taken out of context.”

“I don’t want that either. That’s why you’re going to stay, and I’m going to leave—alone.”

The likelihood of that is slim. It’s a pipe dream. The man is relentless in making certain I see that he’s after me. He wants my fear and my tears. He wants me scared and weak, but I’m not the little girl I was the last time he came into my life. I’m not the same at all, and maybe I need to realize that. Before, I needed Cynthia. She was—is all I have. But now it’s time for me to think of her.

Cynthia stares at me a moment as the weight of my words settles around her. I see the change in her demeanor, the resistance to my suggestion written all over her face. She loves me and separating is not something she’ll take lightly.

“Not happening, Siân. You can get that out of your head right damn now. If we need to leave, we’ll go together. Same as always.”

“Aren’t you tired?” I ask, my shoulders slumping with my heavy exhale.

Cynthia stares at me, and I don’t know if it’s because she doesn’t have an answer or because I’m right. She is tired. We both are. The difference here is that—whoever this stalker is—they don’t want her.

She can finally be free. Cynthia has raised me, shown me what it means to be a woman, and taught me how to survive. Her sacrifice has been made. Now it’s my turn to look out for her.

“You’ve said it yourself, Cyn. You have a life here. You’ve made friends and bought this beautiful house. Your sacrifice is over.”

Cynthia turns away from me with her shoulders hiked around her ears. I inch closer and place a hand on her shoulder.

“Tell me you’re not happy?”

She doesn’t speak, barely even moves.

“You’ve taken care of me, taught me how to make it in this world, and given your all in the name of keeping me safe. It’s my turn now. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

“No.” Cynthia shakes her head in rapid succession.

“I love you. And if you get hurt, I’ll die. I need to do this. I need you to let me go.” I suck a ragged breath into my lungs.

Cynthia faces me. “No, Siân. I won’t have it.”

“Do you want to leave?” I ask.

She drops her chin to her chest.

“Exactly. I know how much you care for me, Cynthia. You’re the only mother I’ve ever had. You’ve given so much of your life and ran with me anytime we’ve sensed danger. You’re the most selfless person I know. But he isn’t after you. Please. I need to do this for you. Let me take care of this my way.”

Cynthia throws her hand in the air, letting it rest at her side. “And what’s that? Allow him to capture you. No, Siân. You can forget it.”

“Cyn—”

“No,” she deadpans. “Yes. I love you. I always will. But if you think I’m letting you go through any of this alone, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Cyn—”

“I’m talking.”

I swallow a breath. There have only been two other times when she’s put her foot down, and even then, I knew not to challenge her. When she means business—she means business.