Hess stared at his hands. She knew he was imagining how he could cut Sable out. She needed to convince him, but she had to be careful. Her fear of Sable dug deep into her bones, but Hess couldn’t be underestimated.

Hess lifted his head. “I want my son to come with me. I want you to help convince him that he should.”

Aria shook her head. “You need to help me this time. Not the other way around. This is your chance to choose right.”

“I have.” Hess stood and moved to the door, stopping there. “I’m not under any delusions. I know the kind of man Sable is. But I also know he won’t cross me. He needs me or he goes nowhere.”

“He needs you like he needs a meal.”

Wrong thing to say; she’d pushed too far.

Hess stiffened, sucking in a breath. Then he turned his back on her and left.

Later, with Soren snoring in the opposite cot, Aria told Roar everything. She started with what had been done to Perry.

Roar sat up and pushed his knuckles into his eyes. Long minutes passed and he didn’t say a word.

Watching him, Aria remembered the days after Liv had died.

She had considered not telling Roar. Did he really need to hear that the same man who’d killed Liv had tortured his best friend? But she’d needed to talk to him. She’d needed to release some of her anger or her mind would explode. And they were good at this, she and Roar. They had practice handing their worries back and forth.

She broke the silence herself, telling Roar about Loran, and that brought him back to her. He moved to her side and took her hand. He was careful. Gentle as he curled his fingers into hers.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

She knew he wasn’t asking about her injured hand. “Like I finally got what I’ve always wanted, but it’s not what I actually wanted.”

Roar nodded, like she’d made sense, and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Perry and I,” he said after a while, “neither one of us had the best luck with parents.”

Aria peered at him. She found him looking at her from the corner of his eye too.

She knew little about Roar’s past, considering how close they were. When he was eight, he’d come to the Tides with his grandmother, hungry and homeless, the soles of his shoes worn through. From the way Roar had always spoken, that was the moment his life began. He had never mentioned anything prior to that day—until now.