Page 60 of Gravehouse

“You must be Ivanya.” A voice cuts through the quiet, and I pivot, finding a woman with dark hair and familiar, piercing blue eyes.

She smiles, her expression warm and open. “Oh, honey, don’t be shy. Come.”

She wraps her arms around me and I freeze.

Atlas’s hand lands on my back, rubbing a slow circle. “It’ll be over faster if you just ride it out, V.”

Since when did he decide to cut my damn name?

The tension drops from my shoulders as she gives me a soft pat before sitting back on her heels. “I’m the boys’ mom, Elea. Come, sit.”

Their mother? No one’s ever mentioned a mother. Not online, not on record.

“She likes a private life,” Asher murmurs from the corner, as if reading my mind. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could at this point.

I settle into the sofa as Elea glides in from the kitchen, a tray balanced in her grip.

“I thought you could use a drink.” She halts in front of me, her expression warm. “Asher told me about your Nonna.”

She sets the tray on the table, lifting two martini glasses. The edges of her eyes soften as she reaches up, threading a finger gently through my hair. “So beautiful.”

I smile. “Thank you.”

Goddammit, Asher. He could have filled me in on what I’m doing here. I’m always playing house, but this is the first time I don’t know the script.

Gin spreads a slow heat through my chest, releasing all the tension I'd been holding.

“Your sister wants to start planning her birthday party earlier this year.” She stirs the liquid in her glass.

Atlas moves to the spot on the other side of me, and I fight the urge to ask him what the fuck he’s doing. “She’s a brat, that’s why.”

Elea turns her attention to her son. “You are in no place to be grading your sister for her bratty antics, since she most certainly learned them from you.”

I cough, swiping the gin from my lip.

Sister… that’s right. I almost forgot they had one.

“Aw, what’s the matter?” Camille purrs from beside Asher, her eyes on mine. Not sure they’ve left since I walked in here. “Cat got your tongue?”

I don’t have the energy or the brain cells to respond, but my mouth opens to reply anyway. “I wouldn’t call him a cat, no…”

Elea rests her hand on my knee, and some of the static under my skin eases.

Who are these people. What the hell is happening…

I stand quickly, setting my glass on the coffee table and dip straight through whatever weird little family tribunal they have going.

“Sorry.” I force my best smile, gesturing down the hall. “I’ll be a minute.”

I move at a pace that would make any suspicious person, very suspicious, past the hall and under the stairs until I find the bathroom, slipping inside, and locking the door behind me.

It’s small enough to gather my thoughts, but the designs are the same as everywhere else in this house. Concrete and hard.

Shutting my eyes, I grip the counter. One glance at my own face in the mirror and I’ll either laugh or scream. Neither option seems ideal given the situation unfolding in the other room.

I breathe in, and out. Apparently we’re doing breathing exercises now. Love that for me. One ambient Spotify playlist away from a nervous system reset.

One. Two. Three.