“Because she was terrified,” I said, my voice rough. “Caroline gave her a sob story about how you’d gone off the rails and were trying to kill her. She convinced Christina she was innocent and needed time to get away. Christina had two children, Reaper. Caroline threatened them both.”
The silence on the other end was absolute.
“Fuck,” Reaper breathed, cutting through the silence.
“So when you asked why Toxic didn’t show,” I said, “that’s why. Because Christina Dougal sacrificed herself to save her children. And she carried that guilt with her until she died.”
Grace was sobbing now, her whole body shaking. King pulled her close, his jaw tight.
“There’s more, Reaper,” King said, his eyes on me.
“Of course there is. There’s always fucking more.”
“Christina gave her son away when he was born. She didn’t raise him,” I offered. “When it came time to have the baby, she called her sister, who took the baby away. Then Caroline used that child years later.”
“What child?” Reaper growled.
“Samuel,” I answered.
“MATRIX, GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!” Reaper bellowed on the other end of the phone.
“He ain’t here, boss.” Massacre’s voice was unmistakable.
“As soon as he gets back, I want him in my office,” Reaper demanded.
King and I stared at each other; Grace had her face buried in King’s chest. None of us moved or said a word as we waited.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Reaper’s frustration was palpable. “This is... Matrix loves that kid. If he doesn’t know the truth...”
“Then maybe he doesn’t need to,” King said quietly.
“The hell he doesn’t,” Reaper shot back. “You’re talking about a kid who was kidnapped and tortured by his own biological aunt. Who has a half-sister he doesn’t know exists. Who has a biological mother who’s dead and a biological father who—” He stopped. “Who the fuck is the father?”
“Unknown,” I said. “Christina didn’t name him in the journal. Just said it was someone in the club.”
“Which club?” Reaper demanded.
“Silver Shadows, Arkansas Chapter,” I said.
“Jesus.” Reaper was quiet for a moment. “And you’re sure about all this? This isn’t just speculation?”
“It’s in her journal,” I confirmed. “In her own handwriting. Dated entries. Details that match what you just told us about Louisiana.”
“I need to see that journal,” Reaper said.
“No.” Grace’s voice was firm despite the tears. “That’s my mother’s private thoughts. Her confessions. I’m not handing it over to a stranger.”
“Grace—” Reaper started.
“No,” she repeated. “You’ve told us what happened in Louisiana. We’ve told you about Samuel. That’s enough.”
“It’s not enough,” Reaper argued. “I’m not a stranger, Grace. Christina was my aunt.”
“An aunt you didn’t know,” she snapped back.
“Still, if Christina wrote about Caroline, about what she did, there might be other victims. Other people Caroline hurt. Other secrets she kept.”
“Then you’ll have to trust that if there’s anything in here that affects your club, we’ll tell you,” Grace said. “But I’m not giving you my mother’s journal.”
