“I—I guess.”
This conversation made me squirm, yet I was compelled to know more. “Did they teach you this?”
He nodded.
“I wasn’t taught it, but my peers were taught that. Do you still believe it?” My question sounded too harsh once it was out of my mouth. But when did I ever care if I was harsh?
“No.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Hearing the crying at night. The pregnant ones cried the most.”
I drew in a sharp breath.
“No one deserves to feel that unless they’re very very bad,” he continued.
“No one,” I echoed.
I felt as if I should know these things already. As if the existence of Brimstone and other ranches should be splattered all over billboards and TV and streaming as the shit houses they were. Most alphas I knew weren’t into that. Which made it easier to play ignorant.
Bish’s party had surprised me. I hadn’t known Bish to be the type to rent sets from ranches. It had been pushed in front of my face. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for two days now.
“I should have known more. After Dad bought Kirion, I should have been more curious. But I was too mad at him.”
“And then you blamed Kirion,” Cassius whispered.
“I blamed both of them.”
“I think I’m starting to get it.”
“No. You’re not. I have been running away from problems my whole life. Avoiding anything uncomfortable or worse. I never looked at the ranches. I never thought about set omegas once I left Dad. Kirion was an interloper. I hated him. He seemed pathetic. I didn’t want to be anywhere near that.”
“That’s why you said you hate sets.”
“I didn’t think about it at all. I hated the idea that Dad had even bought him. I’ve spent my life traveling, escaping. I drink because reality sucks. Why would my father do such a thing?”
“But you didn’t really think that then. Not the morality of it.” Cassius spoke carefully, softly.
“No. Not for one minute.” And Malinekan didn’t speak about it, either. For years, he didn’t speak to me at all. The most I felt from him was a shiver of pleasure whenever I allowed a shift.
Cassius leaned back, his hands unclasping, resting against the seat now. “Thank you for telling me all that.”
“Why are you thanking me?”
“Because I feel better now.”
“Because I’m an asshole?”
“No. Because I think maybe I’m beginning to feel like I can trust you.”
I ran my hand through my hair, a nervous gesture I did only when I felt unsure, insecure. “The lesser of two assholes,” I said under my breath.
Cassius let out that strange laugh sound again. “Yep. Jonah and Klonis win for being the worser assholes.”
“Worser?”
“A lot worser.”
