Page 132 of Scars Run Deep

“What do you think it means? I want the motherfucker buried in the ground. Prison bars won’t hold him.”

“Why is you checking out and him doing the same connected in your mind?”

“Let’s not do this.”

“Asher.”

“It’s been my goal to rid this world of his filth. That’s it.”

“So, once you achieve that, you’re also done? Is that what you’re actually telling me?”

“We both know I won’t survive going up against him. I’ve known that from the beginning. The plan has always been to take him down with me.”

“It doesn’t need to play out that way.”

“Why does it matter from your perspective? In fact, it should be considered a positive thing. Ensuring I don’t make a grab for the seat of power down the road like you admitted you were worried about with me, me being removed from your daughter’s life. It’s all looking like sunshine and rainbows, right?”

“I owe you a life debt.”

“You owe me a debt. Period. And I want that intel on the Heretics as payment.”

“You don’t get to decide how I repay it. You need to trust that I won’t allow them to replace the current monster.”

“The problem is trust is fractured between us after that meet.”

“You left me no choice when you went after my daughter.”

“She’s one of us now.”

“Absolutely not. She won’t be with an Infidel.”

“I won’t be one of them soon. It’s moot.”

“It’s not just the title that makes you one of them.”

“I’m not him!” I found myself yelling. “I’m not my father!”

The bastard didn’t rise to it, responding all too calmly, “You hold yourself back, but he’s there in you, make no mistake. He drilled those depraved and sadistic aspects into you and ensured you’d retain them through years of his torture. He corrupted you, twisted you. You might hide it, but it doesn’t change what truly exists beneath that mask. All it will take is one definitive push and all those blocks you’ve put in place, all that resistance, will come crashing down. All over my daughter. I won’t allow it. You’re damaged, Asher. Irreparably.”

Movement caught my attention and I looked to see a sleepy Jonah making his way through the art studio, looking around every which way, before he zeroed in on me.

“I need to go,” I told Lance.

“Get me that location as soon as it’s communicated.”

I hung up without another word and shoved my phone into the back pocket of my jeans.

As Jonah came out onto the balcony, I stubbed my smoke out, much harder than I needed to, a grunt escaping me.

“Sorry I woke you,” I told him.

He laid his hand on my shoulder, frowning. “Who got you so worked up? There’s one of two people I can think of who have that ability. Carson? Revenant?”

“The latter.”

“That was seriously him you were talking to?”

“Yes.”

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