Page 174 of Heresy

When he showed up at our hotel room, his eyes weren’t right. Insanity brewed behind what was once a gentle brown color. Deep, dark circles stain the skin beneath them now, the rest of his skin a sallow color when it used to be healthy and tan.

Dad has gone through something.

Perhaps it has to do with stealing the servers and being in hiding for two months.

Or maybe it has everything to do with him finally losing control of a situation he’s been involved in for longer than I’ve been alive.

Scott held the gun to my head the entire way from the hotel room to the elevator. That’s how he kept Shane from following after us.

But I wasn’t afraid.

I could only stare at my father in shock.

Years ago, he would never have allowed someone to put a loaded gun to my head. There was too much of a chance they would accidentally pull the trigger.

My father taught me to be worried and to watch out for the monsters because he was overprotective.

Not anymore.

Now he’s so locked into whatever this battle is between the governor and the Inferno’s families that he’s lost sight of what he used to love the most.

Me.

Before we stepped foot outside that hotel, I understood my father was no longer the man I once knew. He’s become someone different. And I’m not sure I can trust him.

“I can’t believe you willingly associated with those men, Brinley. I raised you better than that.”

Dad and Scott lead me into a house I don’t recognize, some place far out in the country, orchards and other farmland spreading out for miles around us.

The entire drive had taken a little less than two hours without one word spoken between the three of us.

I miss that silence now.

“At least Shane didn’t allow some psychopath mercenary to hold a gun to my head.”

“Don’t be rebellious with me, young lady. And don’t you dare argue. We did what we had to do to get you away from that monster. He killed John Bailey. Or did you miss that?”

Pure contempt rolls off of me when I look at him … and heartbreak. I never wanted to feel this way about the man who raised me.

“Hell, he probably would have killed me if you two found me before we found you. You should thank Scott for flying down here to warn me.”

I want to argue more, tell him Shane and his group only need the servers. But to do so would be giving up information I’ve been entrusted with. I need to play this smart so I can gather information instead of giving it away.

“Why are you involved in this, Dad? You’re supposed to be retired. When you lost the business, you had enough to comfortably live out the rest of your life without lifting another finger. I don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“Iwasretired,” he snaps, his body turning to face me fully as he stands up to his full height.

It’s an attempt to intimidate me, but I won’t fall for it.

In the past week alone, the shit I’ve been through has done wonders at strengthening my mind. You can’t endure that kind of trauma without coming out a little stronger for having survived.

Even if you feel exhausted.

Even if you want to ball up and cry.

It’s okay, because it only means you’re still suffering the aftereffects, but you are still stronger for being alive.

When I straighten my posture in response, my dad flinches back like I’ve slapped him.

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