Page 114 of The Reluctant Hero

This motherfucker is so determined! And now I’m hooked on the drama.

Damnit!

“Shade was born three years before my mother died. I found that out later.”

Well, hello, Napalmed Bridge. It's nice to see you again. I wonder if Shade has figured that out yet.

“That’s not his fault,” I whisper helplessly.

“I’ve realized that. He has his own scars to face. I don’t need to add to them.”

Phew. Good on Gabe, using his brain and feelers in sync for once.

“Father got caught up in some shady dealings and refused to pay it back. I despise the mafia.”

Ok, ok, stop stalling. Everyone but dark romance readers hates the mafia. Big deal. I’m invested now.

“Mother was my world,” his voice falls into a confused whisper. “And she was nothing to him. An object not worth keeping.”

My brows furrow for several reasons. First of all, that dick doesn’t deserve to have teeth. Second of all, where does he live? Would Gabriel pay for a plane ticket? I’m motivated.

I should apologize to South for stopping her from attacking that therapist. I get it now.

“I was eight. They came for us at home. We were celebrating my good grades,” he lets out a bitter laugh. “She gave me this pen as a reward.”

I glance at the metal pen in his hand. The one he always keeps with him. My heart gets a bruising punch. My chest aches for him.

This emotional dick is determined to make me cry today. I’m convinced.

“Three thugs broke in. Security wasn’t what it is today. Mother told me to hide. So, I did.”

His voice cracks, and I blink a few times. You know what would be more useful than sorrow right now? Beating the shit out of an old man. My anger overtakes the sadness, allowing me to keep listening.

“I did. But I still saw. I froze. She suffered before she died.”

How can he break a tragedy this big into bite-sized pieces like that?

“Are they dead now?” My voice comes out without emotion. My anger is turning into hate quickly.

“Oh, yes,” he lets out a weak chuckle.

“Good,” I gnash my teeth to try to stay calm. Hopefully he doesn’t notice how hard my hands are shaking.

I can feel his stare hitting me. I can’t look at him yet. I’m trying to do some breathing exercises and staring at the couch like I could break it with my mind.

“And Daddy dearest?” I choke out. “Where was he?”

“With a mistress,” he admits with a frown. I barely catch it from the corner of my eye.

I make a thoughtful sound instead of flipping the table. My hands clench so hard that the highlighter cracks in my hand. When I stay quiet, he continues.

“He’s used my guilt over it to manipulate me ever since.”

“You were a child,” I snap, breaking out of my carefully held restraint. My harsh breathing is loud. “My Mom would have done the same damn thing.AnyMom would. That piece of shit is shoving off hiscomplete failureto be a decent husband and dad on you. Sic Ace on him. If you do, I want pictures.Fuckthat guy.”

“I chose to cut all ties to him,” he admits, like he’s trying to compromise with me. I seriously doubt Ace appreciates his restraint. I know I don’t.

Since this is none of my damn business, that will have to do.

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