Page 25 of Secret Betrayals
“When I realized you’d changed your number, I stopped. But after they were born, I tried again. I called the club. A woman answered. Heather. She told me never to call again. So I didn’t.” She meets my eyes, flat and unflinching. “And here we are. Any questions?”
I grind my teeth.
“No.”
I can’t do this. I can’t look at her, can’t hear her voice, can’t sit in this fucking room another second.
So I get up—and walk the fuck out.
Seven
The truth is a bucket of ice being poured into my veins And it scares me to think I won’t ever feel warmth again.
Without a word, Talon stands and walks out. I can’t bring myself to watch him go, but when the door slams shut behind him, the sound punches through the room like a gunshot. The walls tremble, the floor vibrates beneath my boots, and still, no one speaks. The silence is deafening. My breath escapes me in one long, slow exhale. It takes every ounce of control I have not to collapse in on myself. My emotions, caged and coiled tight since I walked into this room, finally loosen—and I hate it. Iknewfacing Talon would be hard. Iknewhe’d react like a bomb going off. But none of my prep—none of my fucking discipline—readied me for this.
Forhim.
Or worse… for my children, knowing more than I ever intended them to.
A few tense minutes pass before my body finally sinks back into the chair like it’s holding me up. Fuck this day. But I shake the regret off quick. I don’t have time for guilt. Talon needs to understand that none of this is simple. Yeah, I raised our children alone. Yeah, he just found out. But whose fault is that?His. His pride. His choices. His absence.
If he’s pissed? Good. Let him be.
I’m not here to coddle a grown man’s ego. I’m here to handle shit.
Malikai’s hand finds mine. Strong. Steady. Grounding. He gives me a slight squeeze every so often, like he knows I’m walking a tightrope internally, trying not to let any of this spill out. His loyalty keeps me from unraveling. Until—
BANG.
The sound behind me is violent and close. I flinch hard.
“FUCK.”
I close my eyes on instinct, because that one word, ripped raw from Sebastian’s throat, slices through the air—and right into me. The pain in his voice is a blade. The kind that digs deep and stays. I don’t need to look to know his breathing is ragged, shoulders tense, rage pouring off him in waves.
I don’t move.
I want to.
God, I want to.
But I can’t—not yet.
My son is unraveling, and I can’t fix it.
This? This is what I never wanted for my children.
I never wanted them to feel the sting of abandonment. That hole you carry when someone who was supposed to protect you never showed up. So when they turned fifteen, I told them what they needed to know. Not the whole truth—but enough. I told them I tried. That their father ignored me. That I reached out more than once, I didn’t lie, but I softened the blows. I let them know it was always their choice if they ever wanted to find him.
No matter what I felt, they’re still his. Just as much as they’re mine. What Ididn'tsoften was life, especially not in this world. As soon as they were old enough, I trained them. Against my father’s wishes. Against Luca’s loud protests. I trained them like soldiers. Because they’re not just my kids—they’re potential weapons, targets, bargaining chips. Born to blood and power, born into enemies. Just like me.
And I’ll be damned if they ever get used the way I was.
Years ago, when someone tried to grab one of my babies off the street, I was proven right. That child slipped free, just like I trained them. That was the last time anyone questioned me about how I raised mine. From that moment, the training doubled. Now? My children are weapons. Sharpened. Calculated. Lethal if they need to be.
They’re also students of the business. Because this legacy—mine, Talon’s—it’s theirs whether they like it or not. And with them turning eighteen soon, they’ll step deeper into it. They’re smart. Strategic. Focused. They’ve been mentored by the best… even if it kills me every damn time they leave the house on assignment.
Still, they’re teenagers. Mouthy, reckless, and emotional. I tried giving them normalcy—public schools, dances, regular teen drama. It didn’t last long. They were too advanced, too molded by the life we live. But I’m glad they hadsomeof it, even if it was brief.
