Page 89 of Marked

She swallowed. Somehow, his mother and father hadn’t entered her mind. Maybe because he was so rough and tough that it was hard to imagine him ever being a small child, or needing to be cared for.

“What did they do?”

Cole’s gaze slid to the wall. Maybe she was pushing too hard. Too desperate. “You don’t have to—”

“My dad was a drunk. A real piece of fucking work. If I crossed paths with him today, I’d kill him with my bare hands.” He balled his hand around the blanket over his thigh.

Tension clenched his jaw, and pain spread inside her belly. She reached forward and traced her finger along his scruff, stopping beneath his ear. “He hurt you?”

Realization poured through her like water through a funnel. If Cole had been abused, it was no wonder he’d chosen a lawless, dangerous path.

He lifted and dropped his shoulder. “He slapped me and my brothers around. Mostly me, because I wouldn’t put up with his shit. But that wasn’t the problem.” He wet his lips. “He liked to beat on my mom. Got harder for him to push her around once Dallas and I grew up. We started to fight back around when we turned eight. Not that it mattered.” His throat moved on a swallow. “He always found some way to get to her—either by locking us out or going after Nash or Dare... He knew we’d get the younger ones out when he turned on them. I should have fucking killed him back then.”

So much hate filled his voice. The skin on his knuckles turned white and his gaze was fixated on the wall.

Tears misted her eyes. “You were just a child.”

He didn’t look at her. Droplets fell from her eyes, and she dashed them away and sniffed. His attention swept to her face and his cheeks softened.

“Hey,” he said, cupping her jaw. “Don’t cry for me, all right?” His gruff instruction cut her deeper. It seemed as if he felt unworthy of being cared about.

Crawling forward, she stretched out on top of him and pillowed her cheek on his shoulder. “I want to believe there’s a happy ending to this story.”

He snorted. “Sorry, baby. It’s downhill from there.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, needing to hear the rest. If he’d give it to her. “Will you tell me?” she asked on a breath.

Stillness settled around them. His chest rose and fell beneath her, his warm scent rushing into her nostrils with every inhalation.

“How ’bout the condensed version?”

“Okay,” she said hesitantly, but dang it, she wanted more.

“My parents gave us up to a group home when I was a kid. Ten or eleven or something, I don’t remember.”

She stilled. Her neck ached to lift her head and see his face, but she didn’t want him to stop talking. Instead, she placed her palm on his cheek.

“He just dropped us off. Said he’d be back in a few hours.” Cole’s voice was thick but free of sadness. Maybe a little resentful.

Pain seared her heart. Abandoned at ten years old. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry, Cole.”

He scoffed. “They were shitty parents. I mean, I have some good memories of my mom. Mostly from when I was younger and before things got really bad. I know she loved us, but... fuck, she should have saved us from that. Should have left him.”

Emotion gripped Sophia’s throat. “Maybe her giving you guys up was her way of saving you.”

Silence stretched out a few beats. “Yeah, maybe in her own messed-up way she thought she was doing us a favor. But that sonofabitch—he wanted us gone. Wanted to beat her up without accountability.”

She swept her thumb in a steady arch over his cheek. “What happened after the group home? Were you adopted?”

Cole let out another dismissive sound. “Nah. No one was stupid enough to adopt a kid who was always being arrested for stealing or mischief. We had foster homes—my brothers and I were never in the same one, though. Just kept running away until finally they stopped looking for us. Then Dallas and I got jobs, an apartment, and when we turned eighteen, we got custody of Dare.”

“What about Nash? Conrad adopted him?”

“Yup. I guess you know that part of the story.”

Her mind turned over the memory. Conrad had adopted Nash when the kid was fifteen and recruited him as an enforcer for Lionsgate Kinship. It wasn’t until years later, and after meeting Lexi Ivanov, that Nash realized the depths of the crimes of the brotherhood he’d sold his soul to.

“You were really strong.” The words were weak and barely did enough to fill the silence.

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