Page 191

“Oh, you’re all so cute,” Father says, watching as I set the box and gloves on the worktable next to the other tools Pace has already prepped. His hair is flopped to the side, a fine sheen of sweat covering his brow, but other than that, he looks so pristine. Whole. His smile is sharp enough to cut. “Little boys, tromping around in Daddy’s shoes.”

I open the box with a slow, mechanical reverence. “Who are the bodies in the garden?”

His eyes track Pace, who’s stalking around him in a slow, predatory circle. “Your mother. Is that what you want to hear?” He tips his head back as Pace moves behind him. “She was a bitch, you know. Not in the personality sense, granted. She was actually a rather sweet thing. I kept her chained up in the same room I used to throw you in.” Pace doesn’t react, continuing his slow path. Father twists to catch his gaze. “Are you listening?” he hisses. “I fucked her, so I had to wait for her to give birth. I had to see if you were mine.” He barks a low, menacing laugh. “You weren’t, so I slit her throat. Cut her up. Buried her in the solarium.”

Pace replies in a toneless voice. “You’re lying.”

“Naturally,” Father sneers. “You’ll never really know the truth, because you can’t handle it.” He looks at Wicker, spitting, “Creation was never something you were made for.”

“But I did, didn’t I?” Wicker says, tilting his head. “It must have just fucking killed you to get those paternity results.”

“Is that what you think?” Father stares at him, unblinking. “Because I’m glad it was you. The only things that make you special are your pretty face and your Baron blood.” He leans forward, grinning. “My heir will inherit them both. It’s the perfect combination, is it not? Light and dark. Creation and death.”

“Two sides of the same coin?”

I stiffen, but am careful not to turn. The last person I want to see me like this is her. “Verity,” I warn, “you’re supposed to be upstairs, in bed.”

But she saunters forward, her chin held high as she takes in the sight of him. “He’s not bleeding yet.”

She sounds disappointed.

It’s the only reason I allow myself to touch her chin, turning her to me. “You don’t need to see this part.”

Her green eyes bore into mine, and when she surges up to brush a kiss to my mouth, my blood rushes hot and frantic. I take her face in my hands and kiss her back, tasting the sweet edge of approval on her tongue.

“I’m not scared,” she whispers, breaking free. “I understand now. It was him.”

I follow her like a man possessed. “What was?”

“He told me he came for me because he took a job,” Verity says, turning to look at Pace. “To show me that there are two sides of a coin, creation and destruction.”

Pace stops, glancing down at Father. “The man in the woods?”

She nods, hand running over her stomach. She should be upstairs, in bed, not down here, stressed and being witness to this.

But something about what she says tugs at a notion flickering at the edge of my mind. “It was a test,” I say, cutting my eyes to Wicker. “You hired that bastard to break in, didn’t you? You sent the intruder. It was a test to see how we would react under pressure.” The reality of the idea hits home.

The crimes this man has committed grow by the second.

“And you failed,” Father says, eyes gleaming at Verity in the fickle lamplight. “They can’t keep you safe, Daughter. That’s what I’ve been trying to show you.” He squirms like he’s trying to get closer. “It should be you and me, Verity. We should raise him together. My boys don’t understand the coin, but you do.”

“He almost killed me,” Verity says, bearing down on him. I step forward, never wanting her close to something so toxic again. “He almost killed our son!” Her face twists and she gasps, touching her belly.

“Lagan,” Father hisses. “The heir!”

But I don’t need his direction. In an instant, I’m in front of her, pushing her back as the blood drains from my face. “You need to be in bed, you’re going to—”

“No, no,” she says, grasping my arms. The look on her face when she meets my gaze takes my fucking breath away.

She’ssmiling.

“Lex, he’s—he’s moving. He’skicking.” Grabbing my hand, she jerks it down to her stomach, flattening my palm to the swell. Her eyes are wide and expectant, but I touch her, and my stomach drops.

I don’t feel it.

I don’t feel anything.

“Wait,” she whispers, and I hold my breath.