Page 116 of Power of Shadow

My hands clench into fists.

“She’s strong and can take care of herself. Don’t you think it’s her decision?” Ryker’s eyebrows rise.

“Of course, she can take care of herself. She’s my blood.”

Ryker shakes his head.

“But we both know that this is bigger than you or me. What does the Pact want?”

“What do you think, Charles?”

My father’s gaze falls on the dirty cement floor. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you? Will you?”

Ryker slowly takes out his gun. The click of it being reloaded is deafening, and when he raises it, aiming at my father’s chest, I can barely breathe.

But my father does nothing, doesn’t even move a finger. They stand a few feet apart, and he seems… resigned.

My man doesn’t look like he’s enjoying this. Like he’s getting any satisfaction out of it. More like... he’s carrying out a sentence he didn’t write.

“I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to take you to the red room. Someone very rich and very powerful wants to get their hands dirty with your blood.”

My instincts prove stronger than me. Without hesitation, I step out of the shadows.

I move slowly toward them.

Ryker keeps his eyes on my father, whose head turns my way.

“Lower your weapon, Ryker,” I order, swallowing hard, not sure what to expect.

“My Little Killer.” He hums and smiles. “Why am I not surprised? Have you been following me?”

Charles keeps his eyes on me, step by step, until I’m almost between them. Ryker’s gun immediately drops, his gray eyes find mine, and he knows.

Reading me comes so easily to him. “You saw the message.”

“I saw the notification. An oversight on your part.”

“I’m not the one who wanted to keep this meeting a secret.”

Feeling betrayed, I turn to the other man.

Charles is a head taller than me, with short brown hair already sprinkled with gray and thick eyebrows. His jaw is clean-shaven despite the late hour. Under his left eye, there’s a small scar, possibly from a knife cut.

But I was wrong; we have something in common. His eyes are vibrant green, just like mine.

“Ashley,” he breathes. He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. His shoulders, stiff a moment ago, suddenly slump. The look in his eyes softens, and features relax.

All the questions evaporate from my head. Over the years, I’ve gathered so many that I don’t know where to start. How can you lock up over twenty years of your life in them?

This thought sobers me up, and I quickly approach him. Punching him in the chest over and over, I keep asking. He doesn’t move an inch. Lets me take it out on him.

“Where the fuck have you been all these years? Why didn’t you want us? Do you know what hell you put us through? Where were you when Mom was dying, unable to cope with her grief over you? Where were you when she was injecting poison into her veins? What were you doing when I was fighting for every day of our lives? When I was desperate and doing everything I could to feed my sister? When I had to be a parent for both of us?”

At some point, tears flow down my face, and my father pulls me into a firm embrace. He holds me close, allowing me to release what has built up over all these years. It’s not enough. Doesn’t he understand that?

My breathing is shallow and ragged. My heart is racing, and my emotions are giving me a pounding headache. I’m so thankful for his embrace; I’d completely fall apart without it.

Terrified by my own actions, I collapse into sobs. I’m creating a spectacle, and I no longer care. I let all the darkness and struggle of my past pour out of me in a flood of tears.