Page 24 of Filthy Secret

KING: THE FUCK???

RYAN’S.

When my phone rings seconds later, I almost laugh. I would be calling him, too, if he’d sent me a message like that. Sliding my thumb across the screen of the phone, I move through the small house and into a bedroom, closing the door behind me before I say anything.

“Hey.”

“What the fuck?”

His words come out clipped and quick. “She can’t stay here. That guy beat the absolute shit out of her. No way can I leave her and her kid here. He’ll kill them next time.”

There is a moment of silence, then he clears his throat, and his voice deepens. He lets out a hushed hiss as he speaks.

“Not bringing her here. I knew you would do that shit. A kid? A kid that’s five. Think about that. Connect the fucking dots, brother.”

I know what he’s implying. I thought about it, too, but no way could it be true… could it? I mean, she said it herself, that there hadn’t been anyone else. But she could have just been saying that so she didn’t look like a slut or something. Fuck if I know. It could be a Nomad King’s kid. She did leave with them.

RYAN

My body is lifted, and I let out a heavy sigh as the pain consumes me from being jostled, but then I feel someone laying me down on feathers. My bed. I don’t have much in the way of furniture, but I did make sure that Adam and I had decent mattresses.

A warm hand cups my cheek, and I let out a sigh, opening my eyes as I look up dreamily at the man leaning over me. He doesn’t say anything right away, his gaze searching my own before he speaks.

“You’re coming home with me, but before you do that, wanna tell me who that kid belongs to?”

My breath hitches. I was expecting this question. Just maybe not yet. I thought it would happen when Adam did or said something that would make it undeniable. But I wasn’t anticipating it right now.

“Why?” I ask.

He smirks. “If he’s a Nomad King’s kid, I killed them all. But time line, legs, is he mine?”

I close my eyes, causing a tear to roll down my cheek. I suck in a breath and hold it for a moment before I let it out slowly and open my eyes to focus on him. I’m not sure how I am going to answer this. I’ve thought about this moment a million times, but never was I in the predicament I am facing now when I did.

He arches a brow, his expression expectant as he waits for my answer.

I should lie.

I’ve gone this long without either of them knowing, so what’s another fifty, sixty years? I’m not sure I can confess to him who Adam belongs to. That he’s his. Not yet. This is a secret too big to unleash right now.

I’m selfish and cruel. I know I am, but I just can’t seem to do it.

“He’s not yours,” I whisper. It physically pains me to lie to him like this. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. I feel guilty and sick about it all. I hate myself.

He stands abruptly, then turns his back to me. I watch as he lifts his hand, sliding his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends. Slowly, he turns to face me, and the anger that I expected is right there bubbling to the surface. I watch it consume him.

Holding my breath for a moment, I expect him to take that anger out on me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a step backward.

“So, you lied when you said there was nobody else?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“I’d seen you with that clubwhore. My sister was in trouble, and I was hurt. I was stupid and young. I ran with her, with them, and I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late.”

His eyes narrow as he looks at me, watching me in disbelief for a moment, then something clicks inside of his head. “You sayin’ he violated you like that?”

“Manipulated is more like it.” And that is not a lie.

They all manipulated me—my sister, those bikers, all of them. I just didn’t sleep with one at the time I conceived Adam. It was when I was already four months pregnant. And I hated myself for it. I felt like I was cheating on Atomic even though I knew he was out doing what and whoever he wanted.

Atomic turns and walks out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him softly, and as he does, I know I’ve just fucked up, huge. It’s better this way. He should hate me. Half of my cards are on the table. I’m still keeping the biggest secret of all from him, and I can’t seem to tell him the truth.