Page 23 of Judgment Day

Wehad a son.

“You knew.” I gripped the back of my neck. “All this time, you knew and you never told me.”

“When was I supposed to tell you, Grey? While you were in prison? In between glasses of champagne at one of your cocktail parties? At your wedding?” She let out a dark laugh.

“Yes, Sadie. All of the above.” I dropped my hand and paced back and forth. “Jesus.”

“Winston said if I told anyone—”

I lunged forward, stopping in front of her face and cutting her off. “I’m not justanyone. I’m his fucking father.”

“He said he would kill him.” She was crying now.

I opened and closed my fists, torn between wanting to grab her and pull her to my chest and punch the closest fucking wall. “And you believed him? You believed Winston would kill our son but didn’t believe that I would save him?”

“How could you save him when you didn’t even save me. I waited for you, and you fucking left me. We needed you, Grey.Heneeded you.” Her voice was full of grit and anger. “But you chose her. You should’ve saved us, but you saved her.” She swiped her hand under her eyes and steadied her breaths. “So, I did what I had to do.”

“You think I didn’t want to take you and run? That it didn’t consume my every thought?” I raked my fingers through my hair. “I had no power. No friends. I had nothing.” My jaw clenched as my eyes begged her to understand. “They would’ve found us. They would’ve killed us.” My words were thick with regret. “I needed time.” My heart was torn open and raw. I was bleeding out right here in front of her, grieving the life we’d all lost. “I needed to become someone they feared because once I decided to take you, the whole thing was going to come crashing down. Do you understand that? Jesus fucking Christ, Sadie, I would’ve burned the goddamn world down for you. I’ll burn it down for him, too.”

She sniffed, then lifted her chin and took in a deep breath. Her eyes were cold as steel as she looked up at me. “Well, you can keep your matches because I saved myself a long time ago.” And then she walked away from me.

And I let her.

FOURTEEN

For a brief moment,I let myself be weak. I let myselffeel.They called me “brutal” because I didn’t let my heart guide me. Emotions were the foundation for most people’s decisions. It was easier if I had none. My choices were strategic. There was a reason no one ever stared into a raging river to see their reflection. It was only there when the water was calm.

For the first time in twelve years, I wished I hadn’t had a plan. I wished I had acted on impulse. I wished I’d let my heart overrule my mind. Then, maybe we’d all three be happy.

Then, you’d all three be dead.

I’d spent twelve years plotting, calculating, and manipulating. Sadie spent them waiting. Five years was all it took to mold me into the man I was today. She had been in hell for twelve. Did I really think we could just pick up where we left off? That things hadn’t changed? Thatwehadn’t changed?

The smiles, the pleasantries, the conversation—it was all a mask she’d been bred to wear. I just never thought she’d wear it for me.

She was angry. So fucking angry.

I didn’t blame her. From the outside it looked as though I’d been selfish. And maybe I was. The distinction between right and wrong was a blur.

I owed her justice.

I owed my son justice.

I owed it to myself, and to my parents. My father wanted more for the Brotherhood than what it had become. He saw it for what it could be, not for what people like Winston, Malcolm, and Kipton had turned it into. None of us weregoodby any means, but we sure as hell weren’t the kind of depraved that those men were.

If I was going to raise a son in this world—and Iwasgoing to raise him—I needed to take it back.

I left the palace and went straight to the house where Winston had been placed. Ayelswick was an island off the coast of Scotland. It wasn’t small, but it wasn’t big either. Everything here had an almost mythical feel to it, from the grassy highlands to cobblestone streets and brick storefronts with gothic spires, arches, and pointed rooftops.

The Maher House was in a small town on the opposite side of the island from the palace. It was on the border, facing the North Sea. The driver I’d hired followed the tree-lined driveway to the Georgian-style house. Inside, it looked nothing like the prison I’d spent five years in. The walls were a deep red with wood panels. Wool rugs covered the hardwood floors. This was a home he didn’t deserve. I was here to make it the hell that he did.

I followed the stairs to the second floor, politely nodding at the nurses and guards as I walked past. Winston’s room was the only one on this end of the hall.

A tall man in dark blue pants and t-shirt sat outside Winston’s door in a leather chair with his feet propped up on an ottoman. Tattoos covered both of his arms, and his long, dark hair was pulled up with an elastic band at the back of his head. His name was Maddox. I’d carefully vetted and hand selected him for this job.

Maddox glanced up from whatever he’d been looking at on his phone. “He’s been quiet today.”

I smirked. “Not for long.” And then I opened the door and went inside.

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