Chapter 33 · Mom Brought the Key

The woman standing in the doorway had Evira's jaw. Same angle. Same stubborn tilt.

"Daughter," she said again.

Evira couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. The air in the chamber tasted like copper and burned ozone, and her ears were still ringing from whatever the hell that door had just done when it opened, but all she could see was the woman's face. Older.

Scarred along the left temple. Hair chopped short and gray at the roots. But the eyes—dark brown, almost black—those were the eyes Evira saw every time she looked in a mirror and forgot to flinch.

Marcus stepped forward, and his hand went to the knife on his belt. "Isla."

The woman—Isla—didn't look at him. She looked at Evira. "You bled on your brother's name. Smart girl. But you need the key if you want him back."

Evira's throat unlocked. "Who the hell are you?"

"I just told you." Isla's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. "You don't remember me. Fair enough. You were three months old when they took you."

"Took me." Evira's voice came out flat. She didn't know what she was supposed to feel. She'd spent twenty-two years thinking her mother was dead.