“We do. A son,” he said, pulling his phone out. He thumbed through it before showing me a photo of the cutest little boy with dark hair and bright green eyes.
He looked just like Ethan.
I looked from the picture to E.
“Enzo’s boy, huh?”
“Yeah,” E mumbled. “Lazarus. We call him Riot. He can be wild sometimes. I-I think he’s really starting to calm down as hegets older, though. At least I hope he is.” He winced and stared down at his phone again.
“E,” I started, not even knowing how to talk to him about what I thought, but I knew that kid wasn’t Enzo’s. There was no fucking way.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” E whispered. “Please. He’s Enzo’s son.”
I nodded. “OK.”
The front door opened, and Klaus came in, ending our conversation. But I knew…
That boy was Ethan’s. I’d bet my life on it. And because I knew he was his, and was about the same age as Ellis, that meant the horsemen had a lot of fucking skeletons in their closet.
They’d better just hope no one started opening doors.
36
EVAN
Iwoke up with a groan and blinked my eyes as the sunlight streamed onto my face.
“Stupid fucking windows,” I muttered, shielding my eyes before I rolled over to find the bed empty. I knew damn well I’d fallen asleep with Anson at my side, but now that part of the bed was cold, and he was gone.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes before I went to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and did my morning routine.
I came out of the bathroom after sliding some ugly brown contacts into my eyes, wearing jeans, a black V-neck shirt, and my sunglasses.
I didn’t like to wear the contacts, but if I were beating on people, I didn’t want my white eye to be the subject of a police line-up should that happen.
I slid my feet into my boots just as Anson came into the room.
“Good. You’re awake,” he said.
I glanced at him. “Did you sleep, man?”
“A few hours,” he replied. “Listen, we need to talk.”
“Ro?” I asked immediately.
“No. Nothing on that yet, but E is here. He stayed overnight.”
“Oh,” I said. “OK.”
“I just didn’t want you to come out and be surprised. So just stay in here?—”
“I’m not going to fucking hide in here,” I said immediately. “I don’t give a fuck if he recognizes me. I want to hit the streets again and look for our girl.”
Anson eyed me. “You don’t look like Fox anymore.”
I grunted at that. That was the entire point when I tatted nearly my entire body. Even my neck was tatted. I shaved my head. Put on a fuck ton of muscle. Pierced my ears and my nose. My dad said he didn’t recognize me when he came to visit last month. Even my voice was a little different. Deeper. More raspy. I suppose spending weeks screaming in a place no one could hear you took its toll on a lot of things. And some of those things never returned. I didn’t even sing anymore. I hated the way shit sounded.
I grabbed a face gator and pulled it on to cover most of my face. My aviator sunglasses took care of the rest. There would be no way anyone would recognize me now.
