Page 82 of My Fallen Saint

“Yes.”

“Well, he wanted to just be a guy, right? Just do that construction and management shit. The way I heard it, Danny let him out. They was friends, right? But without his cut, your uncle couldn’t hack it. Didn’t want to give up his big, fancy house. So he got back in with The Wolf, but then did some side business, too. Wanted a bigger percentage for him, right?”

“The Wolf found out.” The words are flat. I’m numb.

“Smart girl. Found out and decided it was time to terminate their friendship.” He chuckles, and I cringe.

“Do you know who did it?”

“Not a clue,” Cornwell says, though I don’t know if I believe him. “I know he brought it on himself,” Cornwell says. “Was a stupid shit to be playing games like that especially with Danny’s son living right under his nose.”

I shiver, as if I’d stepped into a room full of ghosts. “What do you mean?”

“The Wolf had a kid. Alejandro. I swear, that boy was Danny’s only soft spot, only he wasn’t soft at all. Trained him like a soldier. Took the kid from his mom. That’s the part that got to me. I love my mom, you know. And I got a kid, too. Point is, Peter mighta got away with it if it weren’t for the kid. But The Wolf was paying attention, ya know?”

“What—what happened to his son? After Peter died?”

“Hell if I know. The Wolf pulled him out, I assume. I didn’t keep track. All I know is some government prick assassinated The Wolf. Not much long after.”

“I didn’t know The Wolf’s killer had ever been identified.”

I can hear the shrug in his voice when he says, “I hear rumors. Anyway, guess the kid inherited what the government couldn’t claim. Figure he’s either some wastrel party-boy now or he’s got a new life running daddy’s business outta Mexico or God knows where.”

“I—thank you, Mr. Cornwell.” My entire body is cold, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. “This—this has been more informative than I expected.” I have to choke out the words.

“Hey, sure thing. Sorry about your uncle, girlie. He fucked up, but guess that don’t much matter to you.”

“No. Not much.” I go through the niceties of ending the call, not aware of my words. Not even aware of what I’m doing until I realize that my bag is packed and I’m heading for the door.

He’s the Wolf’s son.

Alejandro. Alex. The boy taken from his mother. Sent to work with Peter.

Alex Leto—Devlin Saint—is the goddamn Wolf’s son.