Aiden’s smile was cold. “Sure. But don’t tell my father. He thinks a locked door keeps his secrets safe from the rest of us.”
A chill shot through Thomas. Had Aiden…had he planned this? All of it? Right down to this moment? No. That wasn’t possible. That would mean he was playing a master level chess game, guessing his father’s movements from the very first moment Aiden’s world had collided with that boy, Brett’s. Thomas found himself momentarily speechless at the notion.
“Do you want to be part of my program, Aiden?” Thomas finally asked.
“If the alternative is prison, sure,” he said, like he didn’t care either way.
“My other sons have been with me for quite some time. I’ve raised them from an early age to follow my orders without exception. Can you follow my rules, Aiden?”
“Yeah,” he said, tone bored.
Thomas sat forward, closing the distance between them until they were almost nose to nose. “Listen carefully. I’ve had years to instill the fear of God into my other children, but since you’re almost an adult, I will be blunt. You do as I say when I say it. You go where I tell you when I tell you. You never go off-book. You never waver from the plan. You never take matters into your own hands. Ever. There’s no pass or fail in my program. You follow my rules or you disappear just like that boy did and I never waste another moment thinking of you. Understand?”
Aiden opened his mouth and closed it again before he gave a couple of jerky nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it.”
“Good,” Thomas said, leaning back.
Once there was some distance between them, Aiden’s sullen expression returned. “I’m not calling you Dad.”
“I—” Thomas had no idea what to do with that statement. “Yeah, that’s fair.”
Thomas sat in his office, a half empty bottle of whiskey beside him, the only light coming from his laptop screen and the image frozen on the display before him. A sea of unfamiliar faces. Five white coffins. And Thomas—a much younger Thomas—standing over them all. How long had it been since Thomas had seen that photo? Decades.
Hubris. That was what had led him to this moment. He scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to collect his thoughts as they swirled around his alcohol-soaked brain. It had only been a matter of time before his sins came to light. In truth, he’d managed to keep them hidden longer than he’d ever imagined. So long, in fact, that he’d let his guard down.
He took another large swallow of the whiskey in his glass, letting it burn its way down. He was fucking Icarus and he’d finally flown too close to the sun. His harsh laugh cut through the silence of his study. Christ, he was losing it. Had he ever really had it? Tears pricked at the backs of his eyes, and he dug the heels of his palms in until he regained his composure.
Thomas understood he was wallowing, his thoughts scattered, his timeline no longer linear. Memories he’d buried painfully deep erupted from the darkest recesses of his brain, tearing apart his carefully crafted lies in their wake. Bleached hair. Green eyes. That wicked smile. Those perfect teeth. That chain he wore that would brush against Thomas’s skin whenever he leaned over him.
“We’re the same. Nobody gets you like I do.”
It had been years since he’d heard that voice. Years. But it was still as clear as day. Low. Raspy. The pain in his heart was knife sharp, twisting until Thomas felt the tightness in his chest had to be from the bleeding. Yeah, he was fucking drunk. But what the fuck else was he supposed to do?
It had finally happened. He’d thought if he suffered enough, was miserable enough, was sorry enough, he could right his wrongs without ever having to admit what he’d done. Without having to admit who he was on the inside. But years of killing monsters couldn’t eliminate the monster within him. Years of suffering hadn’t alleviated the agonizing way his family had died.
Maybe this was karma? Though he was loath to admit it, these days he was happier more than he wasn’t. His children were healthy, happy, and thriving. He had two gorgeous granddaughters who looked at him like he was their hero. Maybe he’d gotten too comfortable? He’d let his guard down and the universe had taken swift action to rectify his mistake.
He’d thought if he denied himself the one thing he wanted more than anything, maybe the universe would just let him have the rest. He could compartmentalize. He could focus on Addy and Arabella, could focus on the work, could focus on his family as long as he didn’t have the one thing—the one person—he wanted above all other things.
Aiden.
Thomas picked up his half-full glass and flung it against the fireplace, the flames jumping as the alcohol made contact.
Fuck.
He scrubbed at his face once more, pacing. He should go to sleep. He could think more clearly in the morning once he was sober. But he wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t. His thoughts were too powerful. If he laid down, he’d feed those thoughts until they became sentient demons who perched on his chest, depriving him of sleep, reminding him he’d brought all of this on himself.
Once more, he pictured the palest green eyes he’d ever seen and the two of them on the floor of the ballroom gazing up at the hammered tin panels on the ceiling.
“I hate them.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do, though. I hate them.All of them.”
He glanced back at the laptop screen now facing away from him. Maybe he should just pay them?
Even as he thought it, he rejected the notion. Blackmailers never went away. Besides, that video was someone’s way of warning Thomas they intended to destroy him. They wanted him humiliated, defeated, brought to his knees. Only then would they pull the trigger and take it all from him. They wanted to see him suffer. He just didn’t know why.
