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The audience behind me is not something I particularly mind, though I imagine I’ll get a lot more out of him if it’s just the two of us. “Fine. I’ll give you five minutes to explain why I shouldn’t kill you now.” Shoving past him, I head for the back patio, not bothering to check behind me to see if he’s following me.

Warm air closes around me as I step onto the wooden slats of the back porch and turn to face a man I never thought I’d see again. A man I’dhopedto never see again.

It hurts my heart, the way he looks damn near exactly like he had the last time I saw him. I’d made him a demon in my mind—a shadow that devoured every happy moment of my childhood.

His hair is greying at the temples, and his dark eyes are hard on me, but not out of maliciousness. No, if I were to guess, I’d say he was uncomfortable.Good.

“Your time is ticking,” I deadpan, not wanting him to see just how this spontaneous visit is affecting me.

“You look so much like your mother.”

His words are daggers in my soul. “You don’t get to speak of her. Ever.”

His expression faulters. “I loved your mother.”

“You had her killed!”

“You don’t understand.”

“I saw the whole damned thing, asshole. You know I did. I know exactly what I saw.” I clench my hands as magic snaps down my arms, swirling and ready to be used.

He watches me warily, though he does not back away. “Then you misunderstand what you saw. And had I known that, I would have cleared it up sooner.”

“There is literally no way I misinterpreted it. You were pissed because she had an affair, and you let them kill her for it. Then, you threatened to kill me if my power didn’t come in like it was supposed to.”

“I never would have laid a hand on you,” he says, stepping forward. “Never in a million fucking years would I have hurt my daughter.”

“I’m not your daughter,” I spit back.

“You are absolutely my daughter. Blood or not. I was there for you. Was it the Astor who held your mother’s hand while she gave birth? Was it him who held your hands as you took your first steps?” Cheeks flushed with anger, he glares at me now. “Was it the Astor who was forced to watch your mother murdered? Was it him who stayed up late every single, damn night, sometimes not sleeping for days, to ensure your magic did, in fact, come in so the council wouldn’t come after you, too?”

I absorb every word he says, wanting to believe it, and afraid to do just that at the same time. “You let them kill her.”

“I had no choice!” he roars. “Had I put up a fight, they would have killed you and your sister, too!”

“And she died, anyway!”

Tears fill his eyes. He shuts them tightly and shakes his head before opening them once more. “I tried to save her. I went to the council, told them of her nightmares. They insisted it was nothing more than an overactive imagination. I told her that I would protect her—that she should stay with me and I could keep her safe. You have no clue what losing her did to me.”

But I did know because I suffered right alongside him. “You didn’t care about us, ever. Stop shitting on mom’s memory and pretending otherwise.”

He opens his mouth to speak…then closes it and swallows hard. A heavy sigh leaves his lips before he finally speaks again. “Bronywyn, I knew from the moment I married your mother that you were not mine.”

To say his words packed a punch would be an understatement. Gaping at him, I take a step back. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Your mother was already pregnant when we got married.”

“What?” the word is strangled with emotion, and afraid I’m going to pass out, I take a seat on the bench just outside the back door.

After hesitating a moment, he comes to sit beside me. “Your mother and I grew up together. Our homes were within walking distance of each other,” he explains. “Best friends from the moment we met.” He runs a hand over the back of his greying hair. “I was stupid in love with her from the day I realized just what love meant, but she only had eyes for one man. A hunter who was staying in our village, helping with the vampires who were killing witches for sport.”

“Joaquín.”

He nods. “Joaquín Astor. He’d caught your mother’s eye from the moment he’d shown up, but given The Accords, their relationship had to be a secret. When she found out she was pregnant—” He trails off, and stares down at his hands. “She was terrified of what it would mean for the baby, so she broke things off, and Joaquín left town a few weeks later.”

Determined to see him as the villain, I paint a mental picture of a terrified young woman manipulated into a marriage she never wanted. “So, what, you blackmailed her into getting married?”

Pain fresh in his eyes, he stares back at me. “You truly thing so little of me, then?”

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