Stolen by a Sinner (Sinners 3)

“Uh-huh.” I squeeze my eyes shut.

“I’m with your mother.” My eyes snap wide open. “I need you to calm her down so she’ll come with me.”

“Yes!” I jump up from the chair and start stalking up and down, my heart instantly beating a mile a minute.

I hear movement, then Emre says, “Your daughter is on the line.”

It takes a moment before I hear her sob, “Lara?”

“Mama.” Tears begin to spill over my cheeks, and I don’t care. Sobs strain my voice. “Emre is a friend. You can trust him. He’ll bring you to me. Please go with him.”

My mother lets out a heartbreaking wail, and it makes my own tears come faster, my chest shuddering. “Ma-ma,” I hiccup. “Come to me.”

“Okay,” she squeezes the word out.

Seconds later, Emre’s somber voice comes over the line. “We’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Thank… you.”

When the call ends, I start to cry like I’ve never cried before. Nisa grabs me to her, holding me tight and making clucking sounds. “It’s a happy day, Lara.”

I nod, and when my phone rings again, I almost drop it. Through a blur, I can hardly make out Gabriel’s name and swipe as fast as I can.

“Gabriel? Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’ve got Mazur. Did Emre call you?”

“Yes, a…” my throat strains from all the emotion, “a couple of seconds ago.”

“I wish I could be there, but I have to deal with things at the club. I’ll be home in an hour.”

“Okay.”

“Deep breaths, baby.”

I nod, struggling to regain control over my breathing.

“That’s better. You need to be strong tonight. Your mother is going to need your help. You can do that, right?”

“Yes.” I fight harder for control, slowly starting to calm down.

“That’s my girl.”

“Are you really okay?” I ask just to be sure.

“Just a couple of scratches. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Okay,” I say before taking a deep breath.

“Give the phone to my grandmother.”

Walking to Babaanne, I hand her the device. “It’s Gabriel,” I say unnecessarily.

“Gabriel?” she answers. Absolute relief washes over her features. “Tanriya sükür.”

I glance at Nisa, who quickly translates, “Thank God.”

Babaanne nods. “You make him suffer for what he did to my son, and then I’ll bathe my black robes in his blood.”

My eyebrows dart up at the hatred in her voice. Not that I can blame her. She lost a child because of Tymon.

“You did well. I’m proud of you, gözümün nuru.”

I smile when I recognize the words. The light of my eye.

When she ends the call, she hands the device back to me, rises to her feet, and slowly walks out of the room.

I look at Nisa again, and it has her saying, “She needs to be alone. She can finally mourn Deniz.”

“Deniz?”

“Gabriel’s father,” she answers. Groaning, she stands up. “Let’s go wait in the entrance hall for your mother.”

As we walk into the open space, the front door opens. For a moment, I freeze as Emre comes in, then my mother appears in the doorway, looking frightened as she glances around.

“Mama!” I cry, flying across the tiles.

“Lara,” she sobs, stumbling forward.

We fall into each other's arms, then sink to the floor, our tears the only language we can speak after being apart for so long.

Thank you.

ThankyouThankyouThankyou.

Her scent has changed, but her arms still feel the same.

When I’m able to speak, I say, “I missed you so much.”

Mom pulls back, her trembling hands fluttering over my face as her eyes drink in the sight of me. “I lived only for this day. My Lara.”

Pulling back, my eyes greedily rove over her, then heartache fills every inch of me. She’s skinny, the worn clothes hanging off her body, and there are bruises everywhere.

She’s suffered.

“Come,” I whisper, and climbing to my feet, I help her up before wrapping my arm around her lower back. “You’re safe here,” I say, knowing those would’ve been the first words I would’ve wanted to hear.

I take my mom to my old room, Nisa following right behind us. “What can I do?” she asks as I help my mom sit down on the bed.

“Can you go to Gabriel’s room and bring me a pair of leggings and a sweater? Also, there’s a pack of unopened underwear.”

“Evet.”

When Nisa rushes away to get the clothes, I crouch in front of Mom and stare up at her, unable to believe she’s really here.

Her eyes are locked on my face, then she whimpers, “You’ve grown so much.”

“I’m twenty-two.”

“I know.” Her face crumbles. “I’ve missed everything. The photos they showed me weren’t enough.”

She slides off the bed and into my arms, her body trembling something fierce. Crying, she says, “I lived only for you.”

“You’re home,” I murmur, swallowing hard on all the emotions creating a turbulent storm inside my chest. “You’re home, and we’ll never be apart again.”

Nisa comes in with the clothes and sets them down on the bed. She takes one look at my mother, then leaves again, only to return with the first aid kit.