Page 142 of Filthy Savage

This is my brother. Julius.

He’s twenty-six. That’s what the file Fionn gave me said. His mother is Soraya, and she’s been married to my father for over thirty years.

“We’re here to see Lloyd.” Fionn’s clipped tone has him staring at us curiously now.

“What’s this about?”

“It’s a private matter. Please get your father.”

“Uh, okay. Dad!” he calls over his shoulder. “Someone’s at the door to see you.”

“Well, who the hell is it?”

His mouth thins. “Who are you, exactly? The old man is a bit cranky with strangers.”

“Oh, she’s not a stranger.” A ruthless smirk tugs at Fionn’s mouth. “She’s his daughter.”

The color instantly drains from Julius’s face. “Umm, Dad, you’d better come and talk to these people.Now.”

A groan echoes before footfalls pound in the distance, mounting nearer.

“What’s the meaning of this?” He practically shoves his son out of the way, giving me and Fionn an irritated look. “Who the hell are you two? And what do you want?”

Nausea swirls, rising up my throat. My mouth refuses to move. I’m unable to do anything but stare at the man with a full head of gray hair, his brows sprinkled with a bit of dark strands.

His eyes are hazel like mine, though his are a bit deeper.

“What do you people want?”

I practically shake, every cell in my body trembling. Fionn holds my hand tighter, as though in tune with me.

“May we come in?” he asks.

“No.” He gives him an icy once-over. “Tell me why you’re here or get lost.”

When I peer over at Fionn, his nostrils flare, and I can tell he’s barely holding on to his patience.

“Do you remember Desdemona?” he asks.

In an instant, his face turns ashen, every trace of anger turning into absolute fear.

“Who the hell is Desdemona?” A woman appears behind him, glaring at us and her husband. She plants a hand on her hip, moving toward his right. “Well?”

“Uh…honey, it’s nothing.” His mouth quivers.

“Didn’t sound like nothing to me, Lloyd.” She flicks her black strands away from her thin brows.

She seems to be around the same age as Mom, though much prettier. Probably because she doesn’t do drugs.

A wrinkle deepens between her brows.

“Julius, why don’t you take your mom away so I can talk to these people?”

She scoffs. “I’m staying right here, and so is our son.” Her eyes zero in on us. “Maybe you two can tell me what the hell is actually going on.”

“My mother…” I clear my throat, needing to be the one to say this, while I use Fionn’s hand as my strength. “My mother’s name is Desdemona, and your husband is my father.”

“WHAT?!” She almost trips, lurching back a step. “Is this true?” She balls her hands. “Tell me you didn’t get some woman pregnant!”

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