Page 10 of Ashes of Saints

I’d like to say I’m not going to hurt her, but that’s not true. Once I learn what I need to, I have a feeling she’ll be a blubbering mess.

For all I know, Aurora could be my half sister. I need to have her DNA tested while I seek the answers to why this princess was mollycoddled while I was abused. And the people who did it.

The fact I’ve reacted physically to her is a little sick.

Then again, I was groomed to fuck anyone, so I’m ignoring my dick.

Mostly.

It’s just a theory, anyway. There’s nothing to prove she is. But I need to know.

I will find out everything.

With Mary-Anne dead, she has to have left some proof behind. Even if that proof is inside her daughter’s head.

I’m going to get it out.

The search algorithm I’d set up years ago to find Mary-Anne Whitlock from New York—information my grandmother had shared with me—finally found her. I thought it was a false alarm. The system has taken years to fine tune and cut out hundreds of thousands of false leads.

When I saw it was her death notice, I cursed so fucking loud.

First my father, then her.

Motherfuckers.

I don’t get to seek revenge or confront either of them. Frankly, they both got off lightly compared to the fantasies I’ve had about how I’d punish them.

Slowly.

Painfully.

Shaming them.

Torturing them.

All that’s left is Aurora.

Pretty little Aurora with her big green eyes and now deeper red hair.

Is she innocent?

Hard to tell, but she’s a sexy little thing and as fucked up as this is if we are related, I wouldn’t mind blowing my thick cock inside her for a few hours one afternoon.

She lives in Hell’s Kitchen—a lower income neighborhood in Midtown Manhattan—which surprised me given her mother’s high net worth.

Mary-Anne clearly hadn’t shared it with her daughter.

“Honestly, you don’t need to walk me home.” Aurora had said as I strode alongside her. The urge to put my hand on the small of her back had my fist clenching and opening.

It wasn’t a damn date.

But I liked touching her. I liked the way I felt huge next to her small frame.

Like I was protecting her.

Mixed emotions had me clenching my teeth. After all, this is probably what the little witch had our parents doing when she was little. While I was being groomed for a world she’d never be exposed to.

“Just being a gentleman, as my momma raised me to be.” I said, guiding her around a group of people with my hand on her elbow.

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