Page 56 of Property of Mako
The truth was that Lily wasn’t my sister.
She was my daughter.
And no one—not even Lily—knew.
Chapter 26
Threads of Truth
Mako
The moment the words left her mouth—our father—something inside me twisted.
I knew a lie when I heard one. Years of being a ruthless hunter, along with my time with the Kings, sniffing out rats, playing predator and executioner in equal measure, had sharpened my instincts beyond human comprehension. But this… this was more than experience. This was blood and bond, a tether I couldn’t cut even if I wanted to.
She wasn’t telling me the whole truth.
Lyra stood there, clutching the necklace like it might kill her if she let go, her pulse pounding in her throat, her eyes too wide. The scent of her fear—no, not fear. Shame. Pain. It seeped into the air between us, thick enough to taste.
I set my sister’s necklace on the dresser, the facets of the ruby catching the lamplight. “You expect me to believe that?” My voice was low, dangerous, but not out of anger. Out of knowing.
Her chin lifted, stubborn, but her hands trembled where they held the chain. “It’s the truth.”
I stepped closer, close enough that her breath hitched. My gaze pinned hers, sharp as a blade. “No, it’s not. You’re leaving something out.”
She flinched. Just barely. But I caught it. I always caught it.
“Calix—”
“You can lie to yourself,” I murmured, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering against her cheek, “but you can’t lie to me. Not to a vampire. Not to your mate.”
Her eyes widened at that, her lips parting, but she didn’t speak. Couldn’t.
Gently, I loosened her fingers and took the necklace from her grip. With care, I set it next to my sister’s. Then, I pressed closer, caging her against the dresser, both necklaces glinting at us like proof of some cruel cosmic joke. “One day, you’re going to tell me what you’re hiding, Lyra. And when you do…” I dragged in a breath, my fangs aching as the mate bond thrummed between us, “…I just pray it doesn’t destroy you.”
She swallowed hard, her throat working, but she still didn’t confess. The silence between us was deafening.
I let her go, finally stepping back, though every part of me screamed to demand the truth. But pushing her now would only make her dig deeper into her secrets. And I couldn’t risk her shutting me out. Not when the storm was coming.
Not when I already knew this secret—whatever it was—would tear both our worlds apart.
Her silence followed me long after I walked out of that room. It clung to me heavier than smoke and iron, heavier than all the blood on my hands.
I wanted to shake it out of her, rip the truth from her throat. But the bond—the gods-damned bond—kept me from forcing her. I knew instinctively it wasn’t just her fear that kept her mouth shut. It was something bigger. Something dangerous.
And I couldn’t protect her from it if I didn’t know what the fuck it was.
Down in the clubhouse garage, the hum of tools and the faint scent of motor oil should’ve been grounding. Instead, I paced like a caged beast.
“Out with it,” Dexter said without even looking up from the scalpel he was cleaning. He always knew. Bastard had a way of reading me without me saying a word. “You’ve got that look—the one you had before you burned down that nest of leeches in Baton Rouge.”
I leaned against the workbench, arms crossed. “She’s lying to me.”
His brows lifted, but he didn’t stop working. He knew exactly who I was talking about. “Lying or hiding?”
I growled low in my chest. “Same fucking thing.”
He didn’t flinch. “She’s human. They don’t trust easily. Especially ones with scars like hers. You push her too hard, you’ll break her.”
