Page 61 of Cruel Secrets

“Since I was old enough to kill.” He stops to think about it. “Probably about seven or eight when I buried the first one.”

My shovel careens to the side, hitting a rock at an odd angle and nearly falling from my hand. “You’ve been killing people for that long?”

He shrugs, digging deeper and ignoring the strangled sound of my voice. “Maybe a little earlier, but I don’t think so. Not that I remember at least.”

I press a hand to my mouth. “Royce. That’s not normal.”

Chuckling, he pauses. “I don’t think you need to worry about it. It’s the life I grew up with and it’s the only one I know. Dad wanted us all to learn how to take care of ourselves from a young age, and I can do that.”

“I get it.” I swallow hard, my mind drifting back to my own past. “Dad had us learn once we were twelve or so though. He thought it was wrong to start any younger. I think he saw what it did to Noah, and he was trying to prevent creating a monster out of me and my sister.”

Royce’s gaze sparks with something I don’t understand. “Do you think I’m a monster?”

I stare at the man in front of me, trying to put the pieces together of who he is.

Has he done bad things in life, or course.

Does he love our daughter? I think so. I’ve seen the way he looks at her and the way he cradles her. I’ve watched from the doorway as he’s read her book after book.

Royce might be a killer, but I think he’s the best father I’ve ever met.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “You know what, don’t worry about it. I don’t know why I asked. I know what I am.”

A sharp pang radiates through my chest. “Royce, I don’t think?—”

“No. Let’s just not do this, alright?” He forces a small smirk on his face despite the anger in his eyes and the sweat rolling down it. “We have to finish dealing with these two.”

“You aren’t?—”

He cuts me off again with one sharp look.

It has the words on the tip of my tongue dying instantly.

He might have asked me if I think he’s a monster, but when it comes down to it, he doesn’t want to hear the truth. It’s clear that he thinks he is, and he doesn’t want his mind changed about that.

What makes a man a monster, though?

Noah is a monster. Our father was a monster.

I might be a monster after all the things I’ve done to stay alive.

Royce has too many tender spots to be considered a monster. He cares too deeply, even though he throws up a wall every chance he gets to try and keep people out.

He clears his throat. “You know, I thought about coming back after I left you.”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks.

“You did?” I hate the way my voice breaks, but this is the one conversation I’ve been thinking about having with him for as long as I can remember.

There was a small part of me that hoped one day he was going to come back to me and tell me he made a mistake. I wished that he would walk through my front door again so many times for those first few months.

Royce nods as we continue to work, digging the hole deeper. “I did. I thought that I could come back, and we could figure out where the hell to go from where we were.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“It was a lot to deal with. Finding out you were the daughter of a man my father had been fighting with since they were children was hard. And then Noah took over and now you were sister to the head asshole in charge, which means that you were the one person I shouldn’t be with.”

“And you thought that it would be better to just leave and not talk about it at all?” I wipe some of the sweat from my forehead. “Royce, what the hell?”

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