Page 8 of The Piece You Stole

I hold still, hoping he will find some other way to punish me than this. But when have I ever hoped for something and gotten it?

His littlest finger edges into my ass. I suck in a sharp breath and grip the sheets tighter.

“Saige?” Rylan demands, a bite of impatience cooling his tone. It was warm syrup before, now it’s hard toffee. “I’m waiting for an answer.”

What can I say to get him to stop touching me? Think, Saige. Think.

My lips part.

The bedroom door squeaks a little as it swings open. Rylan rips his hand away with a low growl of annoyance. “What have I told you about knocking, Nathan?”

I can visualize Nathan showing his throat in apology, probably at the same time he’s staring at my ass. “Alpha. You wanted news as soon as I had it.”

Paper crinkles.

News about what?

I wait for Rylan to chew out Nathan a little more.

“Bring it here,” Rylan says, apparently content to let Nathan’s interruption slide.

Not normal behavior at all. I’d expected at least a fifteen-minute rant about how to knock on a door and wait until someone tells you to enter.

What errand did you send your hunter on? And why does the thought make me feel even colder than I already am?

As always, Nathan’s steps are silent. I only know he’s moved closer because more paper rustles. The bed dips enough that Rylan must be sitting up to scan whatever document Nathan just handed him.

When a probing stare burns its way through my back, I know whatever errand Rylan sent Nathan out for has something to do with me.

“Curious,” Rylan murmurs.

One word and it has tension stiffening my spine.

“And you’re sure it wasn’t the father?” Rylan continues.

“Oh, most definitely not.” A smile creeps into Nathan’s voice. Dark and cruel. “And these where all the records you found?”

I’m desperate to know what he means, but desperate never to hear another word.

“It was the mother,” Nathan continues. “She had no birth certificate, no driver’s license, and no job. There was nothing in her name but medical bills, but she was on the father’s insurance, so the lack of details wouldn’t have raised any alarm bells.”

My breathing is coming too fast. I force myself to slow it.

They’re talking about me. About Mom.

Why would they be talking about her like that?

“She couldn’t have been human then.” Rylan doesn’t sound surprised as he rustles more paper.

That’s it. I have to know.

I sit up and turn to face him. He’s rifling through maybe ten or so sheets of paper, sparing each one no more than a cursory glance before tucking it behind and moving on to the next.

The problem is he’s doing it in such a way I’d have to lean closer to read them.

Do I need to know badly enough to risk catching his attention?

My gaze flickers to Nathan to find him watching me.

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