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His eyes float up to mine again.
“You can tell a lot about a building by looking at it.”
It feels like he’s provoking me, but why?
“Like what?” I ask to push this along, see where he’s taking it.
“Like what kind of state it’s in. Whether it’s had upgrades or not.”
I nod despite my eyebrows knitting together. I’m not sure why Reece is wasting time pointing out something so incredibly well-known. Of course you can tell what state a building is in by looking at it—superficially speaking. Just because an exterior looks good doesn’t mean the interior isn’t downright rotten.
Or in my case, broken.
“You’re going to need a lot of money to fight Kordin in court.”
“I’m aware,” I state dryly, wondering—again—why he’s stating the obvious.
“Do you have it?”
I avoid answering with my own question. “Why?”
Reece and I remain locked in a stare-off, so much distrust swirling between us.
“Cyrus’s—”
“I’m not stealing from Cyrus. I almost killed my mother, Reece. I won’t risk doing it again by abandoning her.” Whether voluntarily or not, I won’t do it. I can’t leave her alone, which means Ihaveto get to the bottom of what Kordin’s up to. If I end up in jail…
“Who said anything about abandoning your mom?”
I throw up my hands, the sleeves longer than my arms disrupting the light snowfall by making flakes scatter away from me.
“Oh my fucking God, have you been listening at all? If I stole from Cyrus, I wouldn’t settle for a few stacks of cash, rook. I’d takeeverythingfrom him and that’d start a war. A war I have no interest in waging singlehandedly, so I’d be forced to leave Fox Hollow…without my mom.”
“So much for being an apex predator.”
“Apex predators don’t go around fighting unprovoked. It’s how they remain at the top. They choose their battles.”
“It wouldn’t have to be singlehandedly.”
I press my fingertips into my eyelids until there’s more white spots behind them than were just in front of them, and say quietly, “You’re not going up against Cyrus.”
“You got a soft spot for him or something?” Reece says it mockingly but jealousy tinges his voice, giving him away.
“I don’t have soft spots.”
He chuffs out a laugh, causing me to drop my hands.
“That’s not true.”
“Only the one for my mother.”
More sarcastic laughter. “That’s not true. You wouldn’t have brought me out here if it was.”
“I brought you out here to show you what kind of person I am. The personyouasked to leave Fox Hollow with. The personyouwanted as the mother of your child.”
“Ourchild,” he practically growls on a step in my direction.
I take one, too, putting us only a few feet apart. Directly atop my father’s resting place that I pray to God is anything but restful, I say the words I’ve thought thousands of times but have never actually spoken aloud. “I’m a murderer. I’ve murdered two people and almost killed another.”
