Page 163 of Brutal Prince

Dad lets out a rough bark of a laugh, shaking his head. “Just admit you’ve fucked up, Son. Admit it, and we—”

“No, you don’t—” I cut off, grabbing my lips and twisting them in an effort to work through my thoughts before my father thinks I’ve lost my fucking mind.

But then something else trips me up.

“How did you know it was him?” I step closer to my dad, lifting my hands when his eyes narrow to wary slits. “Marcus. And you called him a deviant. Why?” I spit out the words as fast as I can, and my father’s suspicious glare slowly changes into a confused frown.

“The cat,” he says. “He killed the cat.”

I shake my head, laugh. “What fucking cat?”

“When you were six,” Dad says, staring at me like I’ve just told him the sky is green and we’re standing on air. “He killed your mother’s cat.”

I can’t even. Blood sings through my ears, and my heart’s pounding along to a 155 BPM track as I try to understand what the fuck my father’s telling me.

Then I remember.

It’s just a fragment of a faded memory, but it’s there.

Natalie’s white Persian, the one I always thought looked like it had run headfirst into a wall. Ugly as sin, but she loved that thing to death.

“You told me it ran away.”

Father shakes his head. “Because that’s what I thought. But when Baker tendered for one of my client’s security upgrades, I went to his house for a meeting.” Father waves his hand. “Brandon Baker, Marcus’s dad.”

I nod, but it’s not with understanding. I’m not getting any of this shit.

“I saw its collar. That—” he snaps his fingers. “Diana? Deena? Can’t remember what your mother called the thing. I designed it a collar.” My father brings a hand to his throat as if he’s about to strangle himself. “Beautiful thing. Put me on the map for pet couture.”

“Where did you see it?”

“In Baker’s house. That kid was looking at it. I only saw a glimpse, but I know my own work when I see it.”

“How do you know he stole—”

“That whole family’s rotten as a barrel of week-old fish.” Father shakes his head, teeth flashing. “I told you back then I didn’t want you seeing that boy.” He stabs a finger at me. “I told you!”

We were so young. I thought we played in the woods because what fucking kid wouldn’t if they had the chance?

But now I remember.

We played there because else I would get into trouble. And I only brought Marcus over when I knew my father would be out of town.

Over the years, I must have forgotten the real reason. So much has happened since then, I mean, fuck. Junior high, high school, Jessica.

Indi.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Dad…I…forgot.”

My father shakes his head, but I can see there’s a touch of doubt in his eyes now. “What were you going to use it for?”

I shrug. My father’s mouth twists.

“The money! What was it for?”

“A loan, that’s it.”

“Like the bracelet?” Dad’s eyebrow quirks up. “Is that in your car too?”

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