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"Why the fuck are you here, Knox?"
"Mel needs a certain level of familiarity. I'm here to provide that."
I glower at him, turning away so he doesn't see the way my guts twist, and I grimace. If he's going to be some sort of familiarity, then what the fuck does that make me? And I don't argue because I know he is right too. "More accurately, what you mean is Father made you come."
"No. I chose to." He watches me like a hawk, his lips tasting words he doesn't let slip out of his mouth.
I ignore him. "How much longer?"
Ryder takes a look at his watch, where he's standing at the door. "About five? They should be here soon."
I stride out of the house, Ryder ahead of me. He has the door open by the time I make it to the front door. I fold my arms across my stomach and note that Father has sent a few more men over than necessary.
She's just moving into the house. There is no harm coming to us. But then, father had always been oddly protective of her even after she had left.
My stomach twists.
I twist my head to Knox. "What's with the men? Why are they here?"
He looks away and mumbles his way through a reply. "Father had them arrive with me. I have no idea."
He definitely knows what's going on. I take a step towards him, already deciding I'll get the truth from him some way, when the large gate rolls open, and her car comes crawling up the driveway. Another car follows behind hers.
My heart stills. "You're lying to me, Knox. And you know I have a hatred for liars."
Knox stares back at me evenly, but there's fear and an emotion akin to anger in his eyes. "What would you have me say? It isn't my truth to speak."
Before I can decode the cryptic words, the car pulls to a stop. Romero pushes open the front door and steps out. He nods, a brief jerk of his head, before he pulls her door open and steps back.
My hands curl into hard fists when her leg drops first to the ground. She's wearing flats. It's not anything sexy, but it has a zing sparking my nerve endings and has me stepping towards her.
I stop with another step when her head comes peeking out of the car. She lifts her face first to the house in front of her and swallows. Then her eyes find mine, and fear flits across them.
It's gone in a second, but I can see it. I wait and let her come to me, as it should be, as it has always been.
I ignore the hard thud of my heart and wait. I'm still waiting when she bends into the car and comes out with a child in her arms.
I think nothing of it. I have no idea why she has a sleeping child in her arms, but knowing Mel, it could quite literally belong to anyone. It piques my interest, but it is not the center of my attention.
She is.
She's trembling, her shoulders hunched in on herself. In her eyes, a spark ignites, vivid and captivating, akin to the vibrant leaves of an untouched woodland.
But when she steps into my orbit, my eye drops to the sleeping child in her arms, and I freeze.
Breathe stolen away.
The fury inside me shimmers with volcanic force, ready to erupt.
There is nothing moving. Not a muscle, not a hair. Even the trees seem to obey the rage in the air.
My anger is rising, and as much as I want to control it, it’s boiling, and could rage like wild fire at this pace. "What the fuck, Mel?"
The boy looks about five years old or six. His arms are curled on his stomach, one finger linked protectively to Mel's index finger. His hair is chestnut, an almost exact shade of mine. I have no doubt he is mine. None at all.
"He's sleeping? Can I at least put him down? Then we can talk?"
What is there to talk about? What is there to say? And how is she going to explain this away?
