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He says it like we should be ashamed of it. “Actually, yes. Once we were old enough to understand, she told us she met our dad at a bar and they slept together. She never saw him again. He doesn’t even know we exist.”

“Huh. I didn’t expect her to be that honest with you when she was lying to you about so much more.” Michael shrugs. “And you don’t have a clue about who he is.”

“Clearly,” I say once more, all of my patience gone as I step toward him once more.

I smirk when he starts to take another step back, just barely stopping himself in time.

Then he laughs, surprising me. He’s not acting rationally at all. It makes him harder to predict. It’s probably best if I just kill him now.

What he doesn’t seem to realize is I don’t need to touch him to rip out his soul. I point the scythe at him, still smirking. “Take.”

Nothing happens at first, which seems to make him laugh harder—until it cuts off completely.

His eyes shoot to mine, wide and scared as he pales. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be able to do this.”

“And yet, here we are.” My smirk only grows as I watch the first strand of his soul slip out of his body, heading straight for the scythe.

“No. You can’t do this.” Michael is panicking now. “I know who your father is. If you kill me, you’ll never know.”

I shrug. “I’m not sure I really care.”

“Audrey! Stop!” Wren rushes up and grabs my arm. “You might not care, but I do.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. I don’t release my hold on his soul, but I stop pulling on it. “Fine. Tell us who he is.”

“Only if you promise to not rip out my soul.”

“Done.” That’s easy to agree to. Not that I have any intention of keeping that promise. I don’t even feel bad about lying to him—not that I feel bad about anything currently, but that’s neither here nor there.

Michael considers me for a moment, trying to figure out if I’m lying to him, probably. “You might want to sit down for this one. Your father is…”