It’s the first time I’ve really looked at Papa. His skin is more withered than the last time I saw him, whether that be from the timeless monster or from stress. But his eyes—they’ve never changed.

He turns to me, taking my hand with his and pausing when his finger hovers over the diamond rock on my finger. He looks down slightly toward Wicked at the end of the table. I don’t know if he knows I caught it, but I did.

I pull my hand away from his touch. “Papa!”

“This doesn’t directly involve the MC, I just needed a secure place to bring you to where I knew neither of us would be in harm’s way.” Searching his eyes, I wait for more. “The envelope Wicked gave you to give to me all those years ago was confirmation that we had an inside leak.” He stops talking as if to find his next words. “Someone who we thought we could trust but has been working undercover with the Irish.”

I wince.

“What was that?” Wicked interrupts from the head of the table, and all heads turn to him.

“What was what?” I bite, wishing I had a cigarette or anything to keep my fingers busy enough to not want to fly across this table and claw my way into his eyeballs.

“That twitch you just did when Victor mentioned the Irish?” He leans forward, resting his arms on the table. I’ve been trying to ignore his obvious tattoo at the side of his throat. The only one I can see, though, and I know it won’t be his only one. A rose, but instead of a flower at the top, it’s a diamond. “What was it?”

Khaos chuckles, sliding a cigarette between his lips. I tilt forward and snatch it from him between my fingers, ignoring his fallen smile. Biting it into my mouth, I lower myself back onto the chair. “I don’t know, Wicked. You seem to know more about me than me…” Flicking the ash off the tip, I smirk as I bring it to my lips. “Why don’t you tell me what it meant?”

His eyes fly between my mouth and the cigarette in my hand before I ignore him and turn back to Papa. “Who?”

“A soldier. Young. Hence the ten body count in the shed.” My brows pull together before I can conceal my thoughts with my poker face. I clear my throat and inhale another dose of nicotine.

“Oops.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘oops’?” Wicked growls from the other side of the room.

“Well…” I shuffle in my chair, wishing I had alcohol for the next words I’m going to say. “I was fucking Jeremy’s long-lost grandson. He had plans to take him under, but I kind of—killed him. He was a pig and tried to steal from me.”