Page 211 of Endgame

“A newborn, according to our family doctor. Couldn’t have been older than one month old, he said.”

“Like…” Her breath catches. Cheeks pale. “Like me. My nanny told me that when I started asking questions.”

“Yes, like you.” I cup her jaw possessively, struggling not to crush her with the weight of my love. “Only difference is, I’m confident that Lotus never meant to leave you there.”

“You are?” Hope blazes in her eyes. As tired as she is, it’s there.

“We’ll get to that part. After you’ve learned more about her.” Steeling myself against the festering wound in my chest, I go on. “She would’ve wanted you to know that life can be good. She would’ve shielded you from Winston. She wouldn’t have given you to these monsters.”

“O-okay.” Her chin wobbles, her body pressing closer to mine. She clutches my T-shirt so hard that it crumples. “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

“According to my parents, we got along from the very first day. I was three, but they said I was excited about being her older brother.” I pick the photo album off the table, placing it in her lap.

My mother compiled this album, adding two pages of photos for each year. The best ones. The happiest ones.

“That one’s from her first months here.” I point at the picture I’m talking about. I flip the pages. “This is her first birthday. Dad chose the date for her. This was taken on my fourth birthday; Lotus was adamant about smashing the cake. And kicking it.”

“Oh my God.” Aurora’s laugh is watery. Her fingertips brush over the photos while I kiss tears off her face. “Would you look at that? You were laughing. You have so many photos like these. Laughing.”

“I used to laugh, yes.” A sigh. “That was life at home. We had fun. We were happy. She was a smart kid too, highly observant. At six, she asked my parents if she was really theirs like I was.”

“Six?” Surprise chokes Aurora, and she clears her throat. “That young?”

“Yes. We hadthe talkthat evening. Our parents explained everything. They couldn’t emphasize enough how she was one of us. Just because the parents who brought her into this world weren’t them, didn’t mean she wasn’t their daughter.”

“Lucky.” The corner of Aurora’s lips lifts. The smile never reaches her eyes.

“I’ll make up for the years no one made you feel like you belonged.” The photos will wait for another day. I set the album aside, hugging her. “For every year you weren’t as loved as you should’ve been, I’ll make it right. I swear it.”

“By torturing me?” Her breath tickles my throat.

“Aurora.” I stroke her hair. Then tug at it, marveling at her parted lips and tiny gasp. “Don’t you ever lie to me.”

“Lie? About what?”

“Pretending that you hate it.” She wriggles when I bite down on her earlobe. “Pretending you’re not wet for it. That counts as lying.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Not when it comes to you.” We’re eye to eye now, both breathing hard. Both wanting the other so much it hurts. “You’ll get the best of me. Always. In the form of pain and pleasure. Humiliation and adoration. You’ll have all of that. You’ll love all of that.”

“Can’t fucking wait.” Her grin spreads, wicked and real this time, before I claim her lips with a kiss.

Just one, vicious, bruising kiss that leaves the taste of her blood on my tongue.

But that’s all I give her.

I blink the lust away, releasing my grip on her hair.

My dick is no less hard. It’ll have to wait.

She’ll fall asleep if I fuck her again. I need her to be fully present when she learns about her history. About what’s going to happen tomorrow.

“Lotus had her doubts about our love, never truly feeling like a part of the family, no matter what.” An old ache and dozens of regrets almost crush me under their weight. But then I look at Aurora, see the hope within her, and focus on her. On what truly matters. “She had her inner struggles. But the three of us were constantly there to reassure her. We never grew tired of her, nothing like that. We were her family, and families stick together.”

“What happened when she was pregnant with me, then?” Her question is laden with pain. With fear of what the answer might be.

“This is the part whereIstruggle. I don’t have the whole story.” My fingers run paths along her back, down her arms.