Page 119 of Mimic
“It wasn’t just him.”
“What?”
“George didn’t want you just because August was your father. He wanted you because I was your mother. Because of who I am. Because of who my family is.”
I stared at her. Who the fuck was she? “Who are you?”
She turned her body toward me. Wringing her hands together in her lap, she said, “My father is Kronos.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. My head spun, and I grabbed the nearest chair and sat my ass down before I passed out.
“The fucking Gods of Mayhem?” I asked. “That Kronos?”
She nodded.
What did I say to that? How was I supposed to feel? I was both a Soulless Sinner and a Silver Shadow, with ties to the Gods of Mayhem.
“Wait, I don’t understand.” I shook my head. “Why does that matter?”
“I will explain it all to you. But we have to tell King about the brand. Your father needs to know as well.”
“Fuck no.”
“Thorne.” It was her mom voice. The one that had the power to break my will. The one that when I heard it, I wanted to do whatever she asked as long as she never stopped loving me.
“I believed him,” I blurted out.
“What? Believed who?”
I hung my head in shame. Indie was right. She loved me. She never stopped loving me. At least not yet.
“Dakota. I believed him. Everything he said about you.”
“What did he say?” she asked, her voice soft and cautious. It was the one she used when I was angry. The one that always had the power to make me talk, and a decade later, it still worked.
“He said you were a whore. That I was a bastard. That you didn’t want me.”
“Oh, Thorne, none of that is true.” She rushed over and threw her arms around me. I held on to her. I didn’t want to let go.
“He said you told him where to find me.”
“Never,” she growled. “I never even confirmed your existence. Every time George came and told me what he was doing to you, I tried to convince myself he was lying. It was the only way to get through it. It was the only thing that kept me hanging on to the hope that your father would find me.” She squeezed me tight. “He never stopped looking. He walked away to keep us safe.”
“It didn’t fucking work,” I muttered.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, baby, for what?” She kneeled in front of me.
“For believing him. For thinking the worst of you all these years... for hating you.”
She wiped the tears away with her thumbs. “You were a child. You have nothing to apologize for. It’s my fault I didn’t protect you.”
“You tried.”
“I tried. We both did. And we failed. But I promise you we won’t fail this time. Our mistake was not asking for help.”
