Page 13 of The Secrets of Jane: Reborn

I have spent many nights envisioning a reunion, about how we might embrace. How Iyearnedto hear him validate everything that happened, to tell me it will be okay.Those expectations, however, leave my heart as if they never existed; I can’t read his face, or make sense of the eyes that roam over me.

Distant.

He doesn’t even take me in for long before sliding his mahogany gaze to Soren. “That’s a careless injury,” my father cooly remarks.

Bumps rise all over my skin as I exhale—it’s his voice. He even drawls out his last word like he does in my memories. Crow’s feet frame his dark eyes as a slight, inky smudge darkens the surrounding skin. His heavy eyebrows—thathasn’t changed—are furrowed, his cheeks slightly gaunter, accentuating a thinner nose, a commanding, matured appearance.

The smallest, involuntary sound squeezes from my throat when I register how his face has aged in ways that indicate we missed out onyears.

My dad is actually here.

Alive.

“What do you want?” Soren asks, unmoving.

“My daughter.”

There it is—acknowledgment.

It’s almost painful how long that hangs in the air, as if I’m waiting for something more profound to occur. Bafflement changes into frustration as that’s all it remains, anacknowledgment. “Um… who exactlyareyou? You need to explain what happened with you looking likeErna few moments ago.”

The words sound just as bizarre as thinking them.

I glance at Soren almost instantly, feeling as if I may have admitted that I’m going crazy. His skin is balmy and pallid, his under-eyes darkened. All this walking was probably detrimental to him, and yet his gazeburnsat my father like he’s only suffered a nick to the skin.

“You’re not losing your mind, Jane,” Soren quietly comforts, maintaining his gaze ahead as if he’s at full strength.

Clenching my fists, I turn to glare at my father in the dim lighting. It still feels like I’m addressing a hallucination, making me feel like someone has removed my entrails and wrung them so tight that I’m completely hollowed.

“IamCharles Ritter, Jane…andErn.” The Scorpion returns his gaze to mine, the intensity of his furrowed brows loosening, his eyes softening like they used to at Mother.

I shift my weight between each foot, standing in front of a legend that terrifies many just by name alone, yet all I see is a father I don’t recognize. “That makes absolutely no sense,” I say through thin lips, my voice breathless from adrenaline.

“It does if he’s a skin shifter,” Soren comments.

A… no.

No.

I hadneverconsidered that.

We heard about them growing up, and I honestly forgot they existed after living in Coalfell for so long. They seemed more like a fable thatmightexist only over the Black Sea, like mentions of a vampire.

I take my father in all the more as he stands there. His hair is wrong… yes, that’s what’s annoying me, too. Mom liked it long, and he’s gone and cut it. My lips part, but I still can’t actually process this. “Are you seriously saying you’re a skin shifter?”

“We have a lot to go over,” the Scorpion gently replies.

Soren snorts behind me. “No shit.”

I preferhisvoice over anyone else’s.

The Scorpion looks at Soren over my head, any warmth that might have existed completely washing away. It reminds me that two Zenith occupy the same empty room and are both extremely capable, if not themostcapable, at delivering carnage.

“I’ve been watching you,” my dad remarks to Soren, as if I’m not here.

“Bet you have,” Soren mocks, not an ounce of fear present.

“Blackwell knows,” my father states swiftly, his eyes searching the room even as his head remains still, before our gazes connect. “About who you are, Jane. That I’m alive and somewhere in this city. We need to clear that air so you knoweverythingin case this all goes under. I nearly approached you just now, but then I saw Shade in the distance and knew to back off. I have no idea why he acted so carelessly, but perhaps it was for the best if it got you down here.”