Page 15 of Iris' Lying Eyes

Everyone else is inside, enjoying the food we picked up on the way, but being around them makes my skin itchy.

I don’t belong. Maybe I once did, but even that is debatable. Besides, I’m in no mood for mixed company.

“You eating?” Alice asks, and I glance up when she sits beside me.

I’ve been wondering about this since they showed up en masse, and with Alice alone, I ask, “Where’s Bastion?”

Alice tips her head, and I sigh. “What? Is it top secret? Like I’m going to bring them down somehow?”

She chuffs and wipes a strand of hair off her face before pointing at my arm. “Nice tats.”

Glancing down, I run my fingers over the ink. I’ve slowly added to it since I last saw them. My goal is a full sleeve on both arms. I still have the lower half of one arm to go.

Right where John wrote his message in black ink. Fucker.

John hates them, but he reluctantly agreed because it was an easy thing to give and another way to keep me close.

Her comment brings me back to the day I called her. Unfortunately, I was coming down from a high. Jig held up my arm and basically told Alice I was a goner. I suppose I was until Alice stepped in.

She tried. I have to give her that.

Bowing my head, I mentally roll my eyes but give in. This secret hurts no one, and I owe it to her.

“He was dying,” I say softly.

“Who?”

“Ice Man. He knew he was dying.”

“What?” Alice says, her head popping up.

Sighing, I put my hands on my knees and stand. “Alice, your dad did what he did because he knew he was dying anyway. That’s why he made the ultimate sacrifice.”

Alice stares at me with wide eyes while I step around her and enter the kitchen to three suspicious stares.

Smiling humorlessly, I pull out a seat and rest my chin in my hand. Jig slides past me and outside as Rain scoops fried rice onto a plate and sets it before me.

Memories of sitting down with our family roll through my brain, and with a small smile, I murmur, “Remember when your dad used to roll that shit in a tortilla?”

Rain smiles before her lips wobble. Across from me, Cyn slams his fist on the table, and I meet his hard stare.

When I raise my brows, he sneers. “Don’t fucking mention her family again.”

Frowning, I mutter, “Why?”

“You know why,” he barks.

“No, I don’t,” I snarl, pushing back from the table. Fuck. What else can’t I talk about?

“Iris, stop, please. Now that he’s gone and my mom . . .” Rain sniffles, and I shake my head. “Gone where?”

They cast me twin stares of disbelief, and I sigh. “Whatever. Never mind.”

“He’s dead, Iris. John killed him,” Rain says, with a frown.

“What? Impossible.” I wave my arm. I would’ve known. John never mentioned my uncle, which is why I assumed . . .

“Not impossible,” Rain spits, standing and getting in my face. “I saw his body. And my mom? Fuck, Iris.”

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