My brain feels like it shatters into a million fucking pieces.
That name. That fucking name. It unlocks memories I haven’t thought of in years. Memories of my mother crying. Ofmy father yelling that name. Roaring it through that fucking house.
“She’s—she’s alive?”
And married to this guy now?
I look at him through a new lens. I never knew what happened to my mother. But she somehow ended up on the Northside, married to this guy.
He’s an alpha. But... a weepy one? Would an alpha who’s crying like this guy abuse my mom like my father did?
For my mom’s sake, I hope this guy is as harmless as he seems right now.
“Oh my goodness, I’m a mess,” the lawyer says, pulling out a handkerchief from his suit pocket and wiping at his face. “I’m so sorry, son, I just—one thing Ruby and I bonded over when I first courted her was our missing children.”
There’s that feeling.
That feeling that I’mstillmissing a gigantic piece of the picture. Even though I just found out something actually insane.
“What happened to your kid?”
“I had a daughter,” he says sadly, finally seeming to regain some of his composure. “But she was kidnapped fifteen years ago.”
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
I know the answer to my question before i even ask it. But I need to hear him say it.
“What’s your daughter’s name?”
“No one’s asked me that in a really long time,” he says, smiling wistfully. It’s the smile of a sad, loving father. “Mirabelle. Her name is Mirabelle.”
I let out a sharp exhale, a bark of incredulous laughter leaving my chest.
“Well then, Mr....”
“You can call me Mr. Hollis.”
“Well then, Mr. Hollis, do I have news for you.”
CHAPTER 54
Rage
I’ve fucking lost it.
The delicate hold on my sanity I’ve been able to grow, with Mirabelle’s help, burns.
Everything is red.
And she lies, dangerously still, naked and vulnerable.
I lash out at one of them, throwing him into the wall when he gets too close to the bed. My lips are curled into a snarl as I roar so loud my vocal cords hurt.
And then one of them points a metal barrel at me.
The world goes black.
