Chapter 12 - MY MOTHER WAS ALIVE
I put the bullet in Noah’s gun.
Then I fired it into the radiator of the lead SUV.
Steam exploded across the highway.
“Run!”
Noah stared at me.
“You wasted it!”
“I made a choice.”
The lead SUV swerved sideways and blocked the other two.
Eli laughed once.
“Good choice.”
We jumped the guardrail and slid down a muddy embankment into the trees.
Men shouted behind us.
We ran until my lungs burned.
At the bottom of the hill, an old service road curved toward a power station.
Noah stole a maintenance truck.
I didn’t even complain anymore.
An hour later, we reached Fairmont Recovery Center.
It looked peaceful.
White walls. Gardens. Soft music.
The kind of place people paid to trust.
That made me hate it immediately.
Noah had forged visitor badges.
We entered through the laundry wing.
Eli kept his hood low.
“You still haven’t answered me,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“Who put Mom here?”
“I brought her to Mercy.”
My feet stopped.
“You what?”
“She was injured the night your father died. Ward told me Mercy had a protected medical unit.”
“And you believed her?”
“I was twenty-three and stupid.”
“You were old enough to know what kidnapping was.”
“I thought I was saving her.”
“You thought a lot of things.”
Noah looked back at us.
“Quiet.”
Room Nine was at the end of a locked psychiatric wing.
Noah disabled the electronic lock.
The door opened.
My mother sat by a window.
Her hair was gray.
Her face was thinner.
But she was alive.
I couldn’t step inside.
She looked at me.
No recognition.
Then her eyes dropped to my necklace.
Her mouth opened.
“Maya?”
I broke.
I crossed the room and fell to my knees beside her.
She touched my face with both hands.
“You got so big.”
I laughed and sobbed at the same time.
“I’m thirty-two, Mom.”
Her eyes filled.
“Oh, baby.”
I buried my face against her.
For a few seconds, Mercy didn’t exist.
Then Mom looked over my shoulder.
She saw Eli.
Her entire body stiffened.
“No.”
Eli stopped.
“Evelyn—”
“Get away from her.”
“Mom, it’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t.”
She grabbed my wrist with surprising strength.
“He was there.”
“I know. The night Dad died.”
“No.”
Her eyes widened with terror.
“The first night.”
“What first night?”
She looked at Noah.
He went pale.
“Mom,” he said carefully.
She ignored him.
She pulled me closer.
“You were eight years old. You saw them kill a man under the temple.”
I stared at her.
“I never—”
“They erased it.”
My skin went cold.
“Erased what?”
“Your memory.”
Eli closed his eyes.
And my mother pointed straight at him.
“He carried you into the room where they did it.”
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