Page 137 of Unholy Masks

I shook my head.

“She disappeared.”

I was drinking water offered by Enzo. He wasn’t saying a word yet. Yara stared at nothing, refusing to look at me again—perhaps she feared she would kill me if she did.

“Yara, we’ll find her,” Ryden said.

I hid the smile behind the glass.

“She isn’t picking up. It’s ringing and then…” Enzo muttered, glaring at the phone and me… like he wanted to smash it against my head.

He looked at me like he hated me. I scoffed. Let him. His hatred didn’t touch me.

“Call her again,” Ryden said with a deep sigh.

Yara paced the room back and forth. Her hands wouldn’t stay still. They curled into fists, then opened again, as though her body couldn’t decide whether it wanted to fight or fall apart.

Oh, Little Love, I’m sorry. But this will be over soon!

I wanted to cross the room and hold her. I wanted to tell her to breathe, to tell her this was only temporary. That when all of this was over, she wouldn’t have to worry about anything or anyone.

“That fucking...” Yara stopped pacing, dragging a hand through her already messed-up hair. Her breathing was uneven, stripped of the careful control she wore like armor. “If something happens to Irene...” Her voice broke and then raged. “I’ll fucking make her pay.”

There she was.

The mask cracked into a million pieces, and there I met her again.

Yara Kent.

This was not the Yara who had let love and kindness soften her. Not the version of herself Ryden loved, or the one Kat and Irene had made her become.

This was her. Untamed. Unapologetic. Fearless and feral.

The woman she’d been way before love had taught her to hope, to expect more from life.

The old Yara stood before me in all her terrible glory.

God, she had never looked so beautiful. This was the girl I met in the orphanage.

“Irene is the end.”

She was thinking aloud now, piecing together all the fragments that didn’t make sense before, connecting all the dots she had missed.

“That fucking useless bitch.” Her eyes burned with a fury so complete it left no room for fear. “For a second there, I actually felt sorry for her.” She laughed. “But I’ll send her to hell.”

I watched her, unable to look away. She was glorious. Fear had peeled away every civilized layer of her, and this demon in front of me—this was the God I had worshipped for so long.

I fell in love all over again.

With the woman who was swearing to murder me.

Oh, the irony!

33

UNTIL END

YARA