Club 22 (Hades #3) - Tate James Page 0,107

heart breaking for Nadia. Why'd she marry someone else if a man was willing to steal a Fabergé egg for her? "So she kept it, obviously."

Cass nodded. "She hid it from her shitty, abusive husband as they immigrated to America. He died when I was six, liver disease from a lifetime of excessive drinking. After his funeral, I found Nadia looking at the egg in the fancy, velvet-lined case she kept it in. She told me not to tell my mom, but I was a kid and thought it was just a pretty egg." He heaved a sigh, rubbing his forehead.

I could guess where this story was going. "Your mom stole the egg from Nadia?"

He shrugged. "Sort of. Times were tough, and my mom... well. She was no gem. I never knew my dad because he was just one of her many clients, but she did her best to raise me. Mostly let Nadia do it, though, while she was off on benders or... with men. When I was maybe eight or so, something changed."

Cass paused in his story to take a gulp of his coffee. It wasn't in his nature to speak so much, and I could tell it was grating on his nerves. It was important information, though. So I didn't offer any quick excuses to let him off.

"She showed up with some guy she claimed to be in love with," he continued, his jaw tight with old anger. "Started bringing him home, telling me he was going to marry her one day. Apparently, they were old acquaintances, which was just a nice way of saying he was a client. This prick had no intention of actually marrying her. He couldn't, seeing as he was already married with kids of his own."

Zed grimaced. "Lockhart."

Cass nodded. "The same. He just used my mom for sex and a convenient punching bag. I couldn't tell you how many times I had to call my grandmother ’cause I thought my mom was dead after one of his visits. Then one day, the stupid bitch thought she'd try and blackmail him, tried to force him to leave his wife by threatening to expose their affair."

"I bet that went down well," I whispered. I'd met Channing Lockhart—knew him far more intimately than I’d ever cared to—and there was no question in my mind that Chase was a product of his upbringing. Channing was as sick and twisted as they came.

"He killed her that night. I tried to stop him, but I was this... skinny, malnourished kid. Weak." He spat that word like it was coated in poison. "One backhand and I was knocked out. I woke up just in time to see him put a bullet through her head. Then he took the egg that she'd stupidly fucking shown him and left."

For a moment, no one spoke. What the fuck should I even say to that? I’d had no clue Cass had any history with the Lockhart family. No wonder he'd backed off so hard when I’d mentioned having previously been engaged to Chase. Cass would, understandably, despise that family.

"Here." Zed held out a bottle of whiskey to Cass. "You need something harder than coffee."

Cass gave a lopsided smile, accepted the liquor, and took a long swallow straight from the bottle. "Fucking oath."

"So, you want to get the egg back for Nadia?" Lucas asked, propping his chin on his hand and watching Cass thoughtfully. "That's sweet."

Cass's gaze turned to daggers. "Fuck you, Gumdrop."

Lucas just rolled his eyes. "I wasn't being snide; I meant it. You obviously care a lot about your grandmother, and this was a piece of her past that meant a lot to her. It's admirable, you big grump. Take the fucking compliment."

"That's why you got into the Reapers?" I asked quietly, processing the information he'd just shared.

Cass slid off the counter and approached me, threading his fingers into my hair as I turned my face up to look at him. "Yeah," he replied. "Without my mom... I lost my way. Ended up in a bad crew and then got taken in by Damien D'Ath. He raised me like a son, so I felt like I owed it to Zane to stick by him when he took over."

It made sense. But...

"Why didn't you tell me any of this, Cass?" It hurt that he hadn't told me about such pivotal parts of his childhood. Did he not trust me? Or just think I didn't care?

His lips downturned, and he stroked a thumb across

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