"I got that from my mother,” she breathed. The silence that followed was deafening.
Her father laughed. "You certainly did." That wasn't the response she'd expected from him.
"You lied to me." Her voice echoed through the passage. "My entire life."
"I know,” he said.
"You told me my mother abandoned me,” she shouted.
"I did,” he admitted.
"You let me believe she didn't love me,” Lark croaked. God, she hated the way that her voice betrayed her. The last thing she wanted right now was to sound weak.
"I was wrong,” her father said. Lark frowned. Her father had never admitted he was wrong—not once.
"You expect me to believe that?" she questioned.
"No." His answer came immediately. "I expect you to hate me."
She laughed bitterly. "That part's easy."
"I imagine it is,” her father shot back. Dante glanced back at her, and she could tell that something about this conversation bothered him. It bothered her too. Her father wasn't trying to control her. He wasn't threatening anyone. He sounded tired—old and even broken. She hated herself for noticing because it made him seem almost human.
A burst of gunfire exploded somewhere above the church, and dust drifted from the ceiling. Rafael spoke again. "Keller found us faster than I hoped."
Rocco finally stepped forward. "You're running from him."
"No." Rafael corrected calmly. "I'm slowing him down."
"Why?" Rocco asked.
"So the three of you can leave."
Lark blinked. "The three of us?"
"You." He paused. "Dante, and the STARR agent."
Rocco frowned. "You know who I am."
"I know exactly who you are, Rocco Bertoni,” her father said. "I also know your father died because he refused Keller."
Rocco went perfectly still beside her. "You knew my father?"
"I respected him,” her father admitted. Lark looked at Rocco. His expression had become unreadable.
"I don't understand." Her voice cracked. "What was I to you?” she asked.
Rafael answered so quietly she almost missed it. "My greatest mistake." The words punched the air from her lungs. "I wanted one thing that belonged only to me." His voice echoed through the stone corridor. "Your mother." Lark's heart hammered in her chest. "I loved Isabella."
She almost laughed. "You don't know what love is."
"No." His voice was full of regret. "I didn't. I thought loving someone meant protecting them." Lark felt tears sting her eyes. "So I built walls and locked doors." He sounded exhausted. "And by the time I realized I was destroying the very people I wanted to keep safe, it was too late.” His voice broke for the first time.
She wanted to hate him—God, she wanted to. Instead, she heard a man who had confused possession with love until he had nothing left. It didn't excuse what he'd done because nothing could, but it explained things better, and somehow, that hurt even more.
A loud explosion shook the crypt, and the hidden passage filled with smoke. Someone shouted above them. "Keller's inside!"
Rafael cursed. "There isn't much time."
