Page 125 of Rebel Hawke

She pulls back and hiccups a little breath that’s barely anything.

“Where’s your inhaler?”

Her gaze darts around, and I finally see her purse on the floor and release her long enough to bend down, grab it, and pull out the medicine she so badly needs.

I slip it into her hand, then settle into the chair and tug her down onto my lap, allowing her to settle against me. “Use it.”

Her loss is crippling, but she can’t shut down so completely that she isn’t thinking and not taking care of herself.

Not on my watch.

She nods and shakes the container before she takes a long inhalation, holding it in as long as she can before releasing it. I rub her back gently, trying to offer her any support or comfort I can when it all feels so useless right now.

After a few minutes, her breathing returns to normal, but the tears and little hiccupped sobs don’t stop.

I wipe a few of my own away, adjusting her position to tuck her head under my chin. “Did you see him?”

“Yeah…” She’s quiet for what feels like forever, long enough that I don’t want to push her by asking anything else that might set off another round I’m not sure her body can handle right now. “He said something crazy.”

“What do you meancrazy?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem possible, but…”

Her words seem frantic, but she seems to struggle to explain. Like whatever her grandfather told her is impossible for her to wrap her head around.

Tightening my hold on her, I kiss her forehead, trying to soothe her so she can find the words. “Wren, babe, what are you talking about?”

“I-I thought he was just rambling, that maybe the heart attack had done something to him mentally, but he seemed so sure.”

I take her face in my palms and try to wipe away her tears, but they’re quickly replaced by others. “About what?”

Fear fills her eyes—the same I saw that day in the studio when I went after Satriano. As if she doesn’t trust me and thinks whatever Jenkins said might set me off.

What the hell could he have said that would rattle her like this?

“Little Bird…just tell me what he told you.”

She swallows, keeping her gaze locked with mine only because I won’t let her turn away. “He said…he told me that he was the reason your grandfather died.”

“What?”

What the hell is she talking about?

Wren sniffles, tears flowing again. “I don’t…” She tries to regain her breath. “I don’t know. Something about him knowing there was something off before the fight but not pulling your grandfather because Dom wanted the fight to go on.”

“Dom?”

Even though they’re jagged pieces that seem like they come from different puzzles, I start to see them click into place.

All the things I’ve been told over the years about Luca’s father, the monster who was Dominic Abello.

The man who pretended to be Grandfather and Nana’s friend but who always had secret agendas and a violent intent.

What Wren thought were merely crazy ramblings could very well hold a truth none of us ever knew, something that’s beenhidden since that night Sam “the Savage” Hawke dropped in the ring.

I try to control the trembling of my own body so I won’t scare her, but with my hands on her face, she has to feel how badly the revelation has rattled me. “Little Bird, whatexactlydid he say?”

She sniffles again. “That he warned Dom that Sam shouldn’t fight, but instead of pulling him, Dom demanded he go on. Then Dom fixed the odds and placed bets against him, knowing he would lose.”

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