Page 95

“Torch, he's my father.”

His gaze snaps to mine.

I nod.

“He set the fire. He faked his death. He didn't know who I was when they grabbed me.”

Torch looks back at him.

“And now you know.”

My father shrugs.

“Doesn't change anything.”

Torch goes very still.

Then he holds up the envelope.

“Take it. Just let her go.”

“Put it on the floor.”

Torch crouches.

My father steps forward, keeping the gun trained on him.

“Slowly.”

Torch places the envelope on the concrete.

“Everything I kept is in there.”

“Slide it over.”

Torch does.

My father glances down.

Only for a second.

Torch's eyes shift toward the side entrance, then back to me.

I recognize that look.

He's waiting.

And whatever he's waiting for, I need to keep my father looking at me instead of the door.

“Dad.”

The word tastes wrong.

My father turns toward me.

“What?”

“Did you ever love my mother?”