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Danner sinks back into his chair, shifting his gaze to the window. Outside of it, the wisteria has climbed the stone exterior, so thick that it obscures half the view. He watches as a passing breeze makes the petals shiver and sway.

“Perhaps,” is his dull answer. “Perhaps not.”

Lex and I share a glance, understanding that this discussion is roughly the equivalent of an old man’s deathbed confession. If there’s something else he knows—something he’s taking to his grave—then there’s no torture in the world that would get it out of him.

An hour later, Pace is still arguing against the truth of this. “We can still make him talk,” he reasons, stalking back and forth across the parlor we’ve retreated to. His eyes are full of rage, fists flexing. “We should put him down in the dungeon with Father.”

I sigh. “Dude, he’s like a million years old. We’d pull his tooth and kill him.”

“Then we start with fingernails,” he snaps.

Lex and I have never been able to relate to Pace’s dogged determination to find out who his parents were. We’ve always just known. They might be fuzzy and borderline mythical to us as adults, but we have a grasp on where we come from.

Pace deserves that.

Lex says, “I can’t tell you what happened to your mother, but…” He looks at Verity, and I see understanding dawn on her face. “But I can tell you what happened to your father. Yourrealfather.”

Pace freezes, turning to meet my gaze. “What?”

Exhaling, Lex leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. He gives his linked fists a long, considering look. “Remember when I took those blood samples from the West Enders?” The only thing that greets him is silence, and I watch as Pace hovers over him, brows knitted in confusion.

“You found a hit?” he asks. “Already?”

I raise my hand. “When the fuck did this happen?” Nobody keeps me in the loop anymore.Assholes.

“I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up,” Lex explains, tossing me an apologetic look. “And you suck at keeping secrets from each other.Don’t,” he warns, “deny it.”

I roll my eyes.

Clearing her throat, Verity explains, “There was someone I sort of suspected. Someone I know. So, I asked Lex to compare his DNA with yours—just to speed things up and leave others their privacy.”

Lex nods. “And she was right.”

Pace sinks into the couch suddenly, my eyes tracking him the whole way. “Who is it?”

Verity straightens, voice reluctant. “You’ve met him, actually. It’s, uh,” she tosses me a nervous look, “Pauly. You know, from the gym?”

Pace’s face goes slack as he takes this in. “That guy’s my father?” he asks, but there’s not a trace of skepticism in his tone. He knows Lex would never bring him news like this without being completely certain. His brows crash together in a frown. “Doesheknow?”

Verity shrugs, a helpless tilt to her mouth. “I don’t know. I mean… I haven’t said or asked him anything.”

“We should go there,” I say, standing. Lex was right. This thing about keeping family revelations under lock and key? It’s bullshit.

Secrets aren’t the kind of power I want.

That’s Rufus’ MO.

“Pauly,” Pace says the name like he’s testing it out, rolling it around his tongue. He crosses his arms over his chest, and then uncrosses them. “Well.” He crosses themagain. “Fuck him.”

Verity shoots Lex a stunned look. “What do you mean?”

Pace’s jaw goes tight. “I mean he fucking left us to rot here, so he can rot in West End.”

I watch, deflating as he storms off. When I turn my gaze to Lex, I raise an eyebrow. “Bet my secret family reveal with Remy is looking real smooth right about now, huh?”

Usually,after something unpleasant, I sleep like a baby. Torture sessions, nights out at Mayfield, championship losses. I chalk it up to years of desensitization. It’s hard to be upset when everything is upsetting.

But tonight, I’m wide awake, staring straight up at the ceiling and holding Verity a little closer than before.