It wasn’t fucking easy to discover my father murdered my mother and, somewhere between the trauma and the blows, my mind buried the truth so deep I forgot it ever happened.
And all the while, I played happy family with the bastard.
That does something to a person.
But I didn’t dwell on it, and I’m not going to.
Right now, my focus is elsewhere.
I need to make sure my woman is okay, and I need to make sure he pays.
For what he did to my mother, and for what he did to my woman.
I was blind to it for years.
He’s apparently a devil in disguise. Much like me, perhaps.
The difference is that I would never fucking hurt a woman.
Especially not one I claim to love.
Fuck that.
He always made himself look like the good guy.
Then again, so do I.
I put on a front. Beneath it lurks a man who craves blood.
But the fucking difference is that I make bad people pay, I don’t go after innocents.
Very few people know that side of me.
The Ferrum Syndicate men do. Though even they don’t know the full extent of it.
Only she does.
And she still stayed.
For now.
Because I know I don’t really have her.
Not yet.
But I will.
By force if necessary.
She wasn’t leaving before, and she’s certainly not leaving now.
She’s just not leaving.
I never spoke about my mother because, somewhere along the way, I swallowed the lies he fed me, that she cheated on my father, ran off with her lover, built a new family, and simply forgot we ever existed.
That’s why I lost my fucking mind when I thought Piper had made me her bloody lover.
And yet, even then, I couldn’t let her go.
