Page 162 of Wicked Refusal

Mia lied to me. She fucking lied—again. Not to protect her son, but to protect that worthless piece of shit Brad.

She’ll leave you.The thought is in my head before I can stop it.She always leaves, doesn’t she? She always chooses him in the end.

She’ll run to you when things get bad, but she’ll always go back to him.

“No.” I shake my head, grip the railing tighter. “That’s not true.”

It’s unfair to think this of Mia. I know it’s my rage talking, the wounded part of me that’s only ever healed through fury. But right now, even that is sounding pretty fucking rational.

Brad is in bed with Prizrak. He’s been supplying them with money, financing their murder empire. For all I know, his father paid for the guns that killed my family.

And Mia hid it from me.

I clench my fists tighter. He deserves to die for this. I’ll kill him for this—with my bare fucking hands.

But what about Eli?

My breath halts.

All Brad has ever done is hurt him. That little boy is terrified of him. He cries at the mention of his father’s name, wakes up screaming from nightmares about his father’s temper, keeps begging Mia not to let his father take him.

“My son is my choice. And I will not take his father from him. Not again.”

Mia’s words echo in my head. I remember my own father, taken from me too soon. He taught me to shoot my first gun, showed me what honor was, and demonstrated to me the way of thepakhan.He was good to my mom—good tous.If I close my eyes, I can still hear Alina’s squealing laughter as she rode on his shoulders, her tiny hands clapping with delight.

Brad is not that kind of father. All he’s ever shown Eli is cruelty. But…

He’s still his father.

I want to push that thought back down, but I can’t. Because I remember what it was like when I lost mine. He was ten times the man Brad will ever be, a hundred times, a thousand—but that wasn’t why I loved him. That wasn’t what made him special to me.

He was my father.

And if he’d had all the flaws in the world, he still would have been my father.

Slowly, my fists unclench. I let go of the railing.

For five years, Eli mourned his dad. Now, he’s found him again. He’s had to deal with the disappointment that comes with knowing him as a person rather than an ideal—had to swallow that bitter truth far too young. But if, after all this, he lost him again… what would that do to him?

He’d be crushed.The answer bubbles up far too easily.Like I was.

Mia… She must have known. Must have seen what the weight of her lie did to her son all those years. It was for the best, but it still hurt him.

Is it really such a wonder that she doesn’t want him to go through that again?

Eli might never have an actual relationship with his father. They might stay no-contact their whole lives. But knowing he’s out there, that there’s a chance to mend what’s been broken, however slim?—

It would make all the difference.

And Mia knew. Because she’s been torn from her family, too.

“I’ve… been separated from my family.”The words she spoke last year clash against the wall of my anger.“It’s hard enough not to see them, but I can’t imagine what it would be like to know they’re not waiting for me.”

Waiting. That’s what it all boils down to. As long as someone’s alive, waiting for you, there’s hope.

But once they’re dead…

Then all hope dies with them.