Page 104 of When a Soul Cries

Harder.

But those eyes were the same.

The same eyes that had stared at me like I was the problem when I told her what Mack had done.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, my voice already unsteady as I watched her close the distance between us.

Aunt Trice kept coming, her face hard and unreadable.

My pulse started climbing.

“How did you find me?” I demanded, instinctively taking half a step backward with Halo pressed closer to my chest.

She stopped several feet away.

She didn’t answer.

Her mouth tightened.

“Mack dead,” Aunt Trice said flatly, staring straight at me.

Everything around me went quiet.

“What?” I breathed, barely recognizing my own voice.

Aunt Trice stared straight at me. “Mack is dead.”

My fingers went numb.

The grocery bag slipped slightly in my hand.

“He’s dead?” I whispered, searching her face for some sign that this was another cruel game.

Her expression hardened.

I stared at her, waiting for something in her face to tell me she was lying.

“For real?” I asked again, my voice quieter this time.

“Don’t stand there acting like you give a damn,” Aunt Trice snapped, anger sharpening every word.

I couldn’t answer.

Mack.

Dead.

My mind didn’t know what to do with that.

I hated him.

I hated everything he’d done to me.

But hearing he was dead still sent something cold crawling down my spine.

Images hit me before I could stop them.

His hand pinning my wrist.