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“If that’s true, then it’ll make no difference either way. This is my dying wish.”
“And what makes you think I want to give you your dying wish?”
“Oh I know you don’t, but it isn’t for the reasons you want us to believe.”
Jakub snorts. “I’ll remove my mask for no other reason than out of respect for a man who has served us well over the years.”
Pulling off his mask, Jakub chucks it carelessly onto the bed. It hits Renard on the thigh, bouncing off him. Anger suddenly wells within me, my gaze flicking to the gun Leon holds by his side. I could grab it and shoot the arsehole now for that alone. What a heartless prick.
“Jakub Brov,” Renard mutters, stilling my fingers with the gravity of his voice.
Jakub folds his arms across his chest. “Yes?”
“Your father worked hard to mould you into his own form. I wonder, looking upon you now, whether he succeeded.”
“You tell me, old man, given you helped him.”
Renard’s brows pull together as they stare at one another. Jakub a cold, unfeeling statue, Renard a crumbling husk of a man. “I deserved that. I deserve your anger.”
“I’m not angry at you, Renard. I’mgrateful. Strong men, powerful men like my father, were forged in pain, born from blood, honed with violence. I am my father’s son.”
Renard nods. “Perhaps, and perhaps your mother had more influence in who you are than even you’re aware of.”
“My mother?” Jakub blanches. “I don’t even remember her.”
Renard coughs, his frail hand barely able to cover his mouth as he hacks and hacks. Eventually he settles, his chest whistling and wheezing as he speaks. “That is a crying shame. She was a good woman.”
Jakub raises a brow. “She was nothing but a whore. I’m glad I don’t remember her.”
“You really are a piece of work,” I say, forgetting myself in the moment.
“And you are very strong-willed, Christy. Truly remarkable,” Renard says, drawing my attention back to him. “You’re very much like her.”
“Like who?”
“Yourmother, of course.”
“My mother?” I ask, the question tumbling from my lips in a rush as The Masks stare at me in shock.
“What the fuck?” Konrad exclaims.
“Yes, I knew her as well.”
“How?” I ask, ignoring the heated glares from the three men who right now are lost for words.
“I met your mother at the same time Malik did. They were teenagers at the time.”
“My mother knew Malik before he…” My voice trails off as a disturbing thought crosses my mind.No!
“... Forced Leon to murder her? Yes. Your mother and your father first crossed paths many years ago,” Renard explains, looking first at me then at Jakub as he continues.
“You’re not fucking suggesting thatshe’smy—” Jakub says, jabbing his finger in my general direction.
“No,” Renard laughs, then coughs, the amusement bringing much needed colour back to his cheeks. “You’re not related to one another.”
I don’t know who’s sigh of relief is loudest, Jakub’s or mine. Even Leon blows out a breath. Right now I don’t even want to unravelwhyI feel so relieved, probably because no one wants a psychopath for a brother.
“I see that even in death you’ve still got a sense of humour,” Konrad says with a wry grin.
