That Emerald Vow (The Crimson Creed #2)

8. Chapter Eight

I sit down on the cold, metal stool, but nothing will help ease the heat of pure rage that’s pumping in my veins. Hearing the door on the other side of the glass creak open, I look up to see a frail version of my mother walk out with a guard. She’s wearing a typical orange jumpsuit, but her head is covered with a scarf.

My mother smiles at me as she sits opposite my glass divider and picks up the phone. Once I pick up the one at my end, she says, “Damon! You came, son.”

I grip the phone harder than I need to, trying to contain my anger. “I came here to tell you to leave Dani alone.”

Her face falls. “Day, I’m sorry for what I did. I’ve changed, I promise. I’m sober now. I’m d-different,” she stammers out.

“The time for apologies was when you cared more about drugs than your kids. When we were left to fend for ourselves. Or maybe the best time was when you thought about selling your child into sex slavery for money,” I spat out.

“Day . . .”

“You may be dying, Mothe r. But to me, you died long before you got cancer. Long before your actions ever landed you in here.”

Her whole demeanor changes, like a snake shedding its skin. “You’re just like you fucking were when you were a kid. Disobedient and useless. You think it was easy dealing with you two rugrats? I had my own damn problems to deal with.”

“We were your fucking problem because you were our fucking mother. But I am done with your bullshit. Dani and I made it out. But you? You never will.”

“Damon Hayes, you better help your mother out. I just want out. I won’t bother you.” She tries to force herself to keep an even tone. But she already showed her true colors. She hasn’t changed one bit.

“I don’t trust a word out of your mouth. You’ll be hearing from my lawyers. And if you ever speak to Dani again, you may want to pray that your cancer gets you before I do.”

As I go to stand up, she hisses, “Are you threatening me?”

“Of course not. It’s a promise. Goodbye, Mother.” I slam the phone and walk away.

“Damon! Damon! You asshole. Come back here!” she screams as I wait to be allowed to leave the room, ignoring her.

There is electricity running through my veins, but at the same time everything feels so numb. It shouldn’t be possible, yet that’s how it feels. The two sides are fighting each other. While I mourn the woman she used to be—the mother she used to be—this version is one I hate. But something about her dying has feelings surfacing that I had locked up and threw away the key to long ago.

My knuckle erupts in a welcome pain as the skin splits open on the bag in front of me. The anger from seeing my mother yesterday and the worry about her possible release still coursing through my veins.

I’m in the X headquarters’ gym awaiting our royal highness to accept my request to meet.

Adrian and I both started in X, a group of expert assassins for hire, around the same time—rising through the ranks quickly. Alex saved both of our asses, and in exchange, she gets to be the keepers of our souls.

Alex’s door was wide open when I went to her floor, indicating that she was free. But her secretary, Miranda, said she was in a really important meeting. It’s all just a big power play to show who’s in charge. None of her worker bees get to just walk in and demand an audience with her. All but one, Adrian, who happens to be her right hand man.

“Are you getting blood on my equipment, Day ?” Alex asks from behind me. Without even looking, I know she stands there with a smug grin. My teeth grind together with a lot of force as I bite back my disdain for that nickname—the one my mother calls me.

I close my eyes and put on a fake smile before turning around to face our leader. Knowing anything short of excitement to see her will make her think she has the upper hand and that I’m affected by the nickname she knows I hate.

“Sorry, Alex. You know I’ll clean up once I’m done.” Bending over, I grab my towel to wipe the sweat dripping down my face. “Scout’s honor.”

Alex is wearing a pin-striped power suit with heels. Her grin turns brighter as she chuckles before saying, “Oh, Damon. We both know you were never a Scout.”

No, I was never a Scout. We couldn’t afford milk most days, let alone any extracurriculars. I only know MMA because every day after his classes, Adrian would teach me what he learned.

I play up my goofy smile. “Isn’t that what you love about us? Scouts may not go around killing people for you.”

“Haha. You’re right,” she says, visibly tiring of this conversation. There’s a clear tension in the room. We may be smiling and laughing, but we both know this is all a facade. “You wanted to see me, Day ?”

I’m barely able to contain my annoyance at her accentuating the nickname. “Yes . . . Did you know about my mother?”

Her smirk returns. “A little birdie may have told me. You know I keep my ears on the ground at all times.”

As much as I’m trying to keep my composure, the internal thoughts and feelings are running rampant. I want to tear that smirk right off her face. This is my fucking family; my sister is my everything. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

Alex takes a step towards me. “Now, I recall a certain someone requesting when he was offered this position in my organization that I help him with his problem, but then completely stay out of it.” She puts her perfectly manicured finger on her chin in mock thought. “Who was that again? Oh, yes, you.”

“Yes, but—” I start, but she interrupts me, making my jaw tick.

She waves her fingers at me. “Uh-uh-uh. You can’t have it both ways. You told me to get you a good lawyer—one of my colleagues specifically—and to stay out of it. I have.”

“Al—”

She continues, “It’s not my fault you have ignored every single phone call from that man since your mother was convicted.” She takes another step towards me and takes my hand.

Even though a pulsing vein ticks in my forehead, I’m forcing myself not to flick her off like a bug. She was supposed to have taken care of this problem for me.

I sigh deeply. “Fuck,” I whisper. Alex is right. It’s not her fault . . . It’s mine. I should have picked up Mr. Nigel’s calls. But I didn’t want to deal with her . My mother was supposed to be in prison for the rest of her miserable life. “I’m sorry. ”

“If you want my help, Damon, all you have to do is ask.” She lets go of my hand and stands there looking at me—leaving the ball in my court.

I chew the inside of my cheek before finally saying, “I need your help again, Alex . . . Please.”

“That’s my boy,” she says as she turns on her heel to leave the room. I cringe at the statement. I am not her anything. “Go get cleaned up and come upstairs. Miranda already called Nigel, and he’s on his way.”

The taste of iron fills my mouth as I continue to chew my inner cheek. This fucking bitch could have saved this whole song and dance and just told me that. But I know Alex is the lesser of two evils between her and my mother.

“Thank you, Alex. I’ll be right there.”