I tilt my head, studying her.
This fucking bitch thinks she has cards to play.
“I know exactly who you are,” she says, voice tight with restraint. Almost a warning.
I draw my lips into a tight line, frowning. “Given that my cut is hard to miss, I’d be surprised if you didn’t. I imagine there aren’t many Iron Vultures you’ve fucked over in the last fifteen years.”
She lets out a condescending little laugh. This is unsettling, even for me. She might look eerily similar to Adora, but nothing else matches. The rot she carries under her skin makes this entire scene feel unreal, like a foggy reflection in warped glass.
“What did you do to my daughter?” she demands, lifting her chin as high as she can. “Take me to her, or you’ll never get the answers you want.”
It’s my turn to chuckle. I can’t help it.
“First,” I say calmly, “you’re never seeing Adora again. She’s mine now, and I’ll make damn sure you never get anywhere near her.” I step closer, just enough for my shadow to bite into her.“But don’t worry, she fully approves of what’s about to happen here.”
Her expression wavers.
“Second,” I add, “did I ask you a single fucking question?”
“You’re nothing but a liar,” she snaps, trying to keep herself calm. “Adora wouldn’t be involved in this. Or with you. She understoodexactlywhat kind of man you are.Imade her understand.”
I roll my shoulders, working through the stiffness. Fucking old prison scars flaring after the weekend I’ve had.
“You don’t know your daughter at all,” I murmur, already bored.
“I made her,” she grits out. “No one knows her better than I do.”
She inhales sharply, her eyes darting around like she’s searching for something to save her. “You kill me,” she says at last, “and you’ll never know the truth about her.”
A twisted smile stretches her mouth. “And believe me, biker — youwantthe truth. It’ll make you see her very differently. It’ll make you realize how wrong you are to keep her by your side.”
My brows lift slightly, but I’m not surprised. I just thought it would take her longer to throw Adora under the bus.
“The truth?” I murmur. “You mean that she’s Sombra’s daughter?”
I let the pause breathe.
“Or should I call him Diego Cardona, the name he used back when you were in high school and he was a low-level dealer selling trash across the street?”
Digging up Sombra’s real name was fucking brutal, but once I had it, so many things fell into place. But this bitch is delusional if she thinks the fact that he’s Adora’s real father would change how I feel about her.
Her breath stutters, shocked.
“I don’t really care why he didn’t claim her — or you — back then,” I go on casually. “My guess? He sold you some bullshit story about keeping you safe, and Reggie was the idiot you needed so you wouldn’t end up an unwed mother. Because of course you’d care about that shit.”
I glance at her sideways. “How am I doing so far?”
She doesn’t answer, but her chest starts heaving. That’s answer enough.
I bend, slide the knife from my boot, and keep talking. “Your obsession with Diego never stopped. And when he resurfaced years later as Sombra, you were more than happy to crawl right back into his bed.”
I step closer, pressing the tip of the blade to her throat. She swallows so hard I hear it. Her eyes never leave mine.
“What I don’t get, Grace,” I grind out, “is why the fuck you treated Adora like shit. Since she’s the daughter of the man you loved and all.”
The fear seems to vanish. A thin, satisfied smile curves her mouth. It’s practiced — second nature. She’s pretending, but it’s a mask she’s worn so long it might as well be her own skin.
“You think you know so much,” she says calmly, smugly, “but you don’t know anything. I never treated my daughter like shit. I loved her. I always wanted the best for her. I gave her that.” Her smile stretches into an ugly grin. “I made her perfect.”
