Hold Me (Finding Free #5) - A.M. Arthur Page 0,102

couldn’t believe he had to explain this to someone twice his age. To his own omegin. His stomach ached with grief and dread. “Did he stop once you were pregnant with Kane?”

Dustin sank deeper into his chair, face somehow even paler than before. “Mostly. He avoided anything he thought might hurt the baby, but he was not happy that Kane was beta. My next heat happened a week after I gave birth and it was miserable for me. But I got pregnant with you, Dorian. I gave Neville the alpha he wanted.”

All kinds of alarm bells sounded in Dorian’s head. “How did Kane really die?”

“You have to understand, son, I came from nothing. And then suddenly I had all the wealth in the world. Servants and credits and nice clothes, but no one to advocate for me. Only my mate and my kids.”

“Answer me. How did Kane die?”

“He wouldn’t stop fussing. I can’t remember what it was about, only that I was paying more attention to you, because you were still a baby, and he was older. No matter what I did, he kept fussing and screaming, and Neville lost his temper. He shoved Kane into a wall, and Kane quieted.” More tears rolled down Dustin’s pale cheeks. “We didn’t realize he had a brain bleed until I went into his room the next morning to wake him…and he wouldn’t wake up.”

Horror swamped Dorian so fast and furiously that his vision swam. For an instant, all he saw was the vaguest image of a little boy who looked like him smiling one moment, and perfectly still the next. “Sire killed him?”

“His actions did, yes. And I told no one. My baby died, and I didn’t stand up for him. I was too weak, and I was too scared for you. And for the baby growing inside me.”

“Orrin. But he died too. Fuck.” Dorian studied the miserable shell of a man in front of him, stuck between wanting to offer sympathy and growing disgust at what Dustin had concealed for so long. “Did he shove Orrin into a wall, too?”

“Down the stairs.” He mouthed the words more than he spoke them.

Dorian rubbed his fists into his eyes, beyond overwhelmed at what Dustin had admitted. Neville Fowler had killed two of his four children, either accidentally or on purpose, and did it matter which? Two boys were dead, their omegin left alive to either tell authorities or conceal the secret. Dorian’s eyes stung with grief and anger, and it took everything in him to remain seated. Not to pace or lash out or rage.

“Why?” Dorian snapped. “Why didn’t you ever speak up?”

“Because it wouldn’t have changed anything. Neville paid off the man who signed the death certificates. There was never an investigation. Both deaths were natural causes, so nothing to investigate. It’s what the whole world knew. And that’s the part I played to avoid Neville’s wrath.”

“Explain that.”

“After Orrin’s death, I snapped. Neville and I had a massive fight. I threw books, lamps and antiques at him. I told him if he touched me ever again, I would go straight to the constabulary and tell them what I knew. That I would bury him. That he could fuck anyone he wanted as long as he kept his dick away from me. Somehow, the fight worked. He kept his distance from me, and I raised you and Samuel in the most loving environment I could.”

Dustin wiped his nose on his sleeve. “So, to again answer your earlier question, there are no genetic abnormalities to worry about with your future children. The natural causes on their certificates are true, but also inflicted by their sire’s natural anger.”

Dorian stared at the floor for a long moment, allowing his shock, anger and grief to play out, while his brain tumbled all over the place. He didn’t want to believe his sire was capable of killing two innocent children, even if by accident. But Dustin had no motive to lie. Neville was dead so he couldn’t be punished for past crimes. Dorian had gotten the answers he’d sought, but now he wasn’t so sure he wanted to know them anymore.

“Why didn’t—” Dorian’s voice caught, and he coughed hard. “Why didn’t you bring up any of this during your trial? You never once mentioned abuse or rape. Why not? You could have gotten a shorter sentence, or maybe even psychiatric treatment, instead of prison time.”

“I didn’t deserve leniency.” Dustin stood and approached the room’s single barred window, shoulders