Page 139 of Without a Trace
Alden stepped forward. “We didn’t have answers. Only instincts. And every single one of mine pointed to you.”
Zeke shook his head once. “You were supposed to be protected. Observed. Not touched.”
I took a step toward him. “Then why did you let them stay?”
“Because even I couldn’t pull them away.”
He looked at me then—really looked—and there was something older in his eyes. Not anger. Something heavier.
My head was spinning, but the worst part was—deep down, none of it shocked me. Not really. It was like my bones had been humming the truth for years. And now that they were finally saying it out loud, I couldn’t stop shaking.
“You weren’t supposed to exist,” Zeke said again.
I stared at him. “What does that even mean?”
Trace shifted closer. His hand brushed mine, like he didn’t mean to—like he couldn’t help it. “Because you weren’t just anyone,” he said. “You’re—”
“Don’t,” Zeke warned, but Alden cut him off.
“She deserves the truth.”
Alden’s voice didn’t waver. “Scar… you’re not just bonded to us. You’re not just some accidental thread in all of this. You’re the heir.”
The word landed like a punch.
I laughed—because what the hell else could I do? “Heir to what? A secret boys club with tattoos and violence?”
But no one laughed with me.
“You’re the last bloodline of the Red Veil,” Rhett said quietly. “The one that vanished after the breach. Your mom ran—with you.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it again. My skin went cold.
“She said he was dead,” I whispered.
Zeke looked at me, face unreadable. “She lied.”
I stepped back, bracelet humming like a live wire. “So what—this is some twisted prophecy? My father was your enemy, and now I’m just what—your little redemption arc?”
“No,” Trace said, voice rough. “You’re everything they feared. The rightful heir of the wrong side.”
My thoughts scrambled. A lifetime of quiet lies, fractured memories, missing pieces that never fit. The way my mom always kept the blinds drawn. The way she never talked about where we came from. The way she used to say, some bloodlines carry fire, and fire always finds its way out.
“She wanted to keep you safe,” Alden said. “But blood like yours doesn’t stay hidden forever.”
“I don’t want it,” I choked. “Whatever this is. This legacy.”
Trace’s voice dropped. “It’s not about what you want anymore, Sunshine. It’s in you.”
And that was the problem.
Because I could feel it now. Under my skin. In the weight of their stares. In the way the wind shifted like it knew something was coming.
“I’m not your heir,” I said. “I’m not anyone’s fucking heir.”
No one argued.
Because even they didn’t believe it.
