The Moth and the Flame (When Rivals Play #2) - B.B. Reid Page 0,144

the head. By the time everyone had shaken off their surprise, they were already dropping like flies.

The world seemed to spin out of control as I came to, and while the events—however long ago—were still fuzzy, I immediately sought her out. First with my hands, reaching out to feel her curled up at my side where she belonged. Coming up empty, I sniffed at the stale air void of honeysuckle, jasmine, and green apple. Finally, when I shivered, I pried my heavy lids open enough to search every corner and crevice of the cold motel room. It was similar to the one I’d found Lou in what seemed like a lifetime ago.

When my blurred gaze landed on the corner diagonal to the bed I’d been tossed in, I stilled.

Having instincts honed within an inch of paranoia’s reach, I spotted the aberration taking cover in the dark.

“Who the fuck are you?”

I didn’t receive an answer.

Ripping away the sheet covering my waist, I jackknifed into a sitting position and immediately grunted from the pain slicing across my stomach. When the fuck did that happen?

“Careful. I had to stitch you up myself, and I’m no seamstress.”

My head whipped toward the sound—a voice that was familiar and impossible all at once. As the pain dulled, I peered into the seemingly empty corner, seeking out the source of the deep timbre.

The shadows shifted, taking shape until a tall, bearded figure with sharp blue eyes cloaked in black from head to toe stepped into the sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtains. Taking in his height, broad shoulders, tapered waist, and sharp jaw were like looking in a mirror thirty years later. The only difference was the dimpled chin I knew was hiding underneath his beard.

I’d somehow been granted the small mercy of not becoming my father’s complete clone and inheriting an ass for a chin.

“Crow?” My voice shook, and I silently cursed the implied vulnerability.

“Hi, son.”

I felt my blood cool. He had no right claiming me. “You’re dead.”

“Afraid not.” He hesitated, mulling over his next words. “Disappointed?”

“Confused.”

He seemed to deflate before my very eyes. “I’m sorry about that.”

I scoffed at the notion of him regretting anything. My father was a selfish son-of-a-bitch. When he wasn’t murdering innocents, he was leaving a trail of broken hearts and tears in his wake. “Are you? You sure as fuck took your time coming back.”

“It wasn’t that simple.”

“It never is,” I forced through my teeth. My mind was already shifting gears, uninterested in Crow’s excuses, and wondering where the fuck was Lou. I needed to see her, to explain, to run to her so I could crawl, to fucking beg until my knees turned bloody. I only wished it would be that easy. I’d tried so hard to keep Lou from being hurt ever again, and in the end, I’d caused more pain than anyone.

“How have you been?” Crow probed.

“I’m still alive. Enough said.”

“You almost died today, Wren. Say more,” he barked.

“Like what?” I was surprised I didn’t chip a tooth with how hard I clenched them. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“I’m still your father.”

The reminder only inflamed the rage uncoiling in my stomach. “You were never even close to being that.”

In fact, he’d done me a favor when he left my mom to raise me alone. After her death, my grandparents were too terrified to fight him when he stole me from their home thinking I was safer with him. If it weren’t for the glaringly obvious, I would have never believed he was my father—mostly because he’d left me to figure it out for myself. Five years ago, Fox hadn’t dropped quite the bomb he intended. Instead, he’d only confirmed what I’d already suspected.

“It was too dangerous to come back for you. Fox knew I was still alive. He kept you and Evelyn close to either flush me out or keep me at bay. The moment I came near you, he would have killed both of you.”

I regarded him but just as quickly looked away, refusing the plea in his eyes for me to believe him. “He says you betrayed him.”

The air around him seemed to darken. “You’d take the word of a man who would turn a son against his father?”

“I sure as shit wouldn’t take the word of a father who abandoned his son to save his own skin.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

I scoffed, ignoring the pain as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “The first or the second