Page 91 of Thorns of Blood
Kian was rattled, that much was obvious. Not that I could blame him, remembering exactly how rattled I was when I learned who my biological father was.
I took a drink, relaxing into my seat. Kian seemed to owe my wife more than she owed him. This was certainly not the conversation I expected, but a good position to be in.
“What evidence do you have for this… theory?” Kian demanded, his eyes narrowed on Lia.
“Emory’s paternity test, Amara’s too. All that was left to do was do some basic math,” she scoffed, then sobered. “I thought you knew, considering you saved us.”
“Francesca assured me Emory wasn’t mine,” Kian said in a semi-exasperated, semi-resigned tone. “Swore it on her life, in fact.”
“Obviously she lied,” I stated matter-of-factly. “Now, does that change the purpose behind this meeting?”
Kian brought his drink to his mouth, taking his time to savor it while contemplating his next words.
“Do you know what Atticus wanted the information for?” he asked Liana.
She shrugged.
“I was more concerned with saving Amara’s life than working out his motives.” Her eyes lowered to her lap. “I didn’t even ask.”
“Did you tell anyone else?” he continued to question her.
“No.”
“Not even your husband?”
Okay, this was starting to piss me off.
“I’m assuming Atticus found you?” I asked.
Kian smiled at that, the sadism that shone in his eyes hard to miss.
“Don’t tell me you killed him?” Lia muttered.
“I didn’t.” Kian spoke with complete nonchalance, but I suspected he knew exactly what he was doing. “Atticus and I have something in common.” Kian shook his head, then smiled at me. “And when the time is right,you bothwill help me.”
I narrowed my eyes. “With what?”
“Yes, with what?” Lia snapped. “I don’t like the idea of you putting my husband in danger.”
She cares.The words played in my head on repeat, and the corners of my lips twitched.
Kian stood, and we all followed suit. “I’ll be in touch.”
Lia and I shared a glance. “I hope that time never comes,” I grumbled.
THIRTY-THREE
LIANA
The Cortes Compound, Brazil
Three Years Ago
Acreaking sound woke me up and I gasped, sweat slicking my skin.
Blinking hard and feeling disoriented, I looked around but saw nothing—nothing but darkness and the same damp cellar.
Dim light from outside my prison showed shadows moving along the wall. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, and I knew someone was there, watching us.
