Mounting Danger

Chapter 17:Worthless

I twisted and turned in my bed until I fell into an uneasy sleep. It felt like I had gotten a single hour of sleep when my phone began buzzing from across the room. Probably Roxie, I thought with a tired snarl. It could wait. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself back under the covers.

But the insistence of the vibrating phone was relentless.

With a sigh that rattled my whole chest, I heaved myself upright. The first few rays of sunlight speared through the thin curtains framing the large window and onto my face.

"This better be damn important," I croaked, my voice thick with sleep and a dread I couldn't place.

I snatched the phone, and squinted at the screen, and the name that hit me felt like a bucket of ice water. Father.

All of a sudden my anger and annoyance melted away in an instant. My hands shook as I slid the call button across my screen and listened for my father's gruff voice.

"Selene," he said, a word devoid of its usual roughness. It was hollow and hoarse. "She's gone."

The line went dead, replaced by the dial tone's insistent buzz. Gone. The word echoed in the room, bouncing off the bare walls. Gone? Impossible. We'd just spoken. Her voice was faint but the familiar lively lilt was still there. It wasn't supposed to be this fast. Not when I had finally gotten the money to save her life.

But what was it worth now?

A choked sob escaped my lips, a strangled sound that tore its way out of me. I scrambled out of bed, the room tilting drunkenly as if the world itself couldn't handle the weight of the news. My bare feet slapped franticly on the cold floor, the phone clutched so tight my knuckles turned white.

The past year – a year of hope clawing at fear, a year of endless worry gnawing at my insides – all came crashing down, a suffocating weight on my chest. The money, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices – all rendered meaningless in a single heartbeat. This wasn't supposed to be the ending.

I held a hand up to my burning throat and realized I had been screaming. It felt like a dam had broken, releasing a torrent of grief I didn't know I held. My hands, fuelled by a desperate need to feel anything, tore at my scalp. Hair, caught between my frantic fingers, ripped out in clumps.

Reason deserted me. When my knees finally buckled, I hit the floor and curled myself into a fetal position. I sobbed, each breath a ragged gasp for air.

Then, a sound sliced through the fog – a deafening crash that echoed through the room. The door splintered, ripped open by force, a cold gust of air whipping across me.

Damon's massive form filled the doorway, shoulder-first, wood chips raining down around him. Kayle was right behind, his face a mask of concern. He scooped me up like a ragdoll, his voice frantically calling to me but the answers to his questions escaped me. After a moment, he seemed conflicted but he rested me on the bed and began searching the room and balcony, gun in hand.

"I'll check downstairs, Ryder is looking outside." I heard Damon's voice. "If someone was in here they won't be getting off this property alive."

Another strangled sound escaped my lips. "No one's here."

But Damon was already gone.

"We heard you screaming. There was a slam," Kayle said rushing back to my side, his voice tight with worry.

"It my mother....she's" my voice got froggy before dying out completely.

Kayle's eyes softened immediately. He didn't need me to finish the sentence. The raw truth hung heavy in the air, a silent understanding passing between us.  He pulled me close, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Selene."

But the fierce storm of grief inside me had abruptly shifted. It wasn't gone, oh no, it was still there, a churning vortex in my gut. But a thick layer of numbness had settled over it, muffling the sound, dulling the sharp edges. My body felt heavy and disconnected as if I was watching the scene unfold from a distance.

A heavy thud vibrated through the splintered remains of the doorframe. Damon reappeared, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, jaw clenched tight. Behind him, Karina appeared, her eyes clouded with worry.

"What happened?" she whispered. Her voice was barely a tremor in the suffocating silence. "Was it Katrina?"

I remained silent, my body a statue in Kayle's embrace. He gently nudged me back and searched my eyes.

"It's her mother," Kayle started.

"She's gone." I finished.

Karina's hand flew to her mouth. "Selene I-"

My gaze drifted back to a spot on the wall, replaying the phone call on a loop.

"I need to see her."

"Selene I don't think that's a good idea. You're still processing." Kayle placed a hand under my chin.  I shook my head.

"Either you come with me or I go alone but I'm going to see my mother."

****
Thirty minutes. That's all it took for the world to tilt on its axis and drain itself of color.  Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the pale green walls of the morgue. The antiseptic scent hit me like a physical blow; a stark contrast to the cloying sweetness of the lilies that choked the waiting room.

Kayle, a comforting weight at my side, squeezed my hand reassuringly. His touch, usually a source of solace, felt distant, muffled by the thick fog of grief clouding my mind.  Damon and Ryder trailed behind slowly.

At the corridor's end, the morgue attendant, a woman whose icy gaze mirrored the stainless steel prep table behind her, paused. "This is it," she said, her voice flat.

"Thank you," I rasped, offering a smile that felt more like a grimace. Turning towards the Hunters, I felt the weight of their gazes. "I... I need to do this alone. Do you mind?" My question hung in the air, primarily directed at Kayle.

He sighed, a low rumble in his chest. "Anything you need, Selene. We'll be right here."

I nodded, my throat tight.
As I reached for the handle, the metallic click echoed. The door creaked open, and my gaze collided with Dad's. His eyes, red-rimmed and puffy, held a pool of something I hadn't remembered seeing from him– grief. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold indifference that sent a fresh wave of hurt through me.

His gaze shifted past me, taking in the three men standing vigilantly in the hall. A muscle in his jaw clenched for a brief moment before his face settled back into its usual stoic mask. The judgment, the unspoken condemnation, was something I hated facing but had grown accustomed to.
I held his gaze, refusing to give him the power to make me back down anymore. This wasn't about him.  This was about Mom, about giving her the goodbye she deserved.

"I need to see her," I rasped, my voice sandpaper rough.

Finally, a curt nod came from him, a concession more than an act of love. He stepped aside, his body rigid, not daring to touch me. I swallowed the lump in my throat, the sting of fresh tears already blurring my vision. With a shaky breath, I walked past him and faced my mother.

My hand reached out to touch hers, to prove it was all real. Her skin was cold and pale. There was no smile on her face or laughs to share now. It was all silent.

As time passed, I felt myself settling into my new reality.

Then something dawned on me.

As much as I hated the idea, my father was all I had left.

I wanted to say that I hated him for the way he treated me all these years but I couldn't. I knew he wasn't always that way.

But it couldn't make up for the fact that he was the one that was wrong.
I sighed heavily and gazed at my mother. She was the only one who could've repaired our relationship.
If only as my mother's dying wish I would try.

I whispered although no one could hear me.

"Goodbye, Mom. I'll try to make up with the bastard...but he has to meet me halfway."