Page 82 of His Trick

My legs trembled.

Carrington’s hand pressed briefly at the small of my back, steadying me, commanding me to move forward.

“Go on,” he murmured. “Time to face your monster, Sunshine.”

Edmund was already waiting, expectant and cruel. A prison couldn’t dull him. If anything, they sharpened the edges. He sat tall, his shoulders back, his chin lifted. His dark eyes locked on me the second I stepped through the doorway.

That smile spread across his face wider, slower, and knowing. I felt heat crawl up my neck and flood my face, not fear exactly. Something heavier weighed me down, making me feel like I was sinking in sand beneath my feet.

Carrington leaned in closer, his voice low, his hand linking between my thighs, silent and commanding as he kept me upright. “Don’t shrink from him. Walk like you own the place, Shiloh.”

“I’m not shrinking,” I muttered, though my fists were so tight my knuckles burned.

“Yeah,” he said dryly. “Keep telling yourself that, Baby Boy.”

The guard led us toward the far table. My tennis shoes echoed too loudly on the tile, as each step hammered in my head.Carrington walked beside me, calm as ever, like we were just heading into a bar fight and he had front row tickets.

We stopped at the table. Edmund didn’t move at first, didn’t even blink. He just looked me over, like I was an old photo he hadn’t seen in years.

Finally, he leaned back in his chair, spread his arms wide, and clapped.

“Well,” Edmund said. His voice was smooth, almost amused. “If it isn’t my son, coming to say hello to his old man.”

The words cut straight through me, scraping bone. I clenched my jaw until it ached and dropped into one of the visitor chairs. “Don’t call me that.”

Carrington’s chair scraped as he sat down beside me, folding his arms across his chest like he was daring Edmund to make a move against me.

Edmund’s gaze slid over to him, lingering and sharp. For a moment, he looked intrigued by Carrington, but then his cruel gaze wavered back to me.

“You brought muscle,” He chuckled, low in his throat. “Cute.”

My throat went tight, but I forced the words out, keeping them steady. “I didn’t come here for games.”

“Then what?” Edmund tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Couldn’t just be closure, right?”

“Answers,” I snapped.

His smirk widened. “Ah. About your mother?”

The sound of that word was a sucker punch to the gut. I felt Carrington’s presence beside me, silent and steady, like the solid bars that had been at my back earlier. Nothing could stop the heat crawling up my chest.

I leaned forward, my elbows braced on the table. My voice came out low, rough, and fucking raw. “I came here to look you in the eye and see what kind of man can do what you did. To her…and to me.”

Edmund’s grin turned sharp. “Finally. A little spine. Did my charming son grow up to embrace his nature after all?”

My pulse hammered, my stomach knotted, but I didn’t flinch.

Not in front of him.

Not anymore.

Edmund leaned back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. The chains on his wrists clinked softly as he folded his hands in his lap, all fucking calm and calculated.

“You’ve got her eyes,” he said, almost thoughtful. “Like a raging storm trapped behind glass, unable to ever be free.”

My jaw snapped tight. “Don’t fucking talk about her.”

“Why not?” He smiled faintly. “You came here to talk about her, didn’t you? Or was this just for show? To prove to yourself you’re not still that trembling little boy hiding in the closet while the world burned around you? Did it help you to think there was no way you would have known what I did? Does it help pretending you weren’t a part of it?”