Page 16 of The Reaper's Vice

“Sloane! Say good night to your uncle Orion!”

Sloane sighs heavily, turning her bored expression to me one last time. “If I was actually related to that moron, I’d fling myself from the cliffs. Good night.”

Her bare feet patter down the hallway, but only when I hear the slam of her bedroom door do I gather the courage to speak. “Your kid is mean as hell, Brett. Nice job.”

A soft laugh falls from her lips, and her eyes are filled with warmth as she looks at where Sloane used to be sitting. “She was actually really excited when she heard Ghost say you might be coming over. I’d sent her to bed hours ago, but I guess she wanted to stay up and be the first to meet you. It’s hard for her to show affection to strangers, though. She really takes after Ghost that way.”

“Right. And I shit gold bricks.”

She whips her arm out and smacks me hard on the shoulder, though the laugh that peels from her mouth tells me she's not actually upset. “Okay. Maybe she takes after mejust a little.” She pinches her fingers together to demonstrate the minuscule amount, and I take it upon myself to widen those fingers to the correct distance.

“Ow! Orion, my fingers don’t bend that way!”

“I’m trying to show you how wrong you are.” I laugh, being careful not to apply too much force in case I doactuallysnap her fingers. Pretty sure Ghost would not appreciate that.

“Are you trying to break mywife’sfingers? In my own home?” a deep male voice booms out across the room, nothing but malice reverberating in his tone. In a flash, there's a silver blade pressing against my windpipe, the edge drawing pearls of blood to the surface of the delicate flesh. I bellow a laugh, the motion causing the blade to cut deeper, but I can’t be bothered to care.

The Ghost has arrived.

“Well,hellooo.Nice of you to join us.” I smirk, pressing forward into the blade to call his bluff. However, he holds the blade steady, and Brett lets out a horrified gasp as more blood pours down my neck and chest.

“Ghost! Stop that right now!”

“He was hurting you,” Ghost murmurs, his voice eerily monotone as he digs the blade closer toward my windpipe. “I don’tlikewhen things hurt you.”

“Good Lord! He wasn’t actually hurting me.”

“Listen to your woman, Ghost. She knows best—ow!” I raise a hand to clutch my temple, now throbbing from where Ghost slammed the handle of his dagger.At least he dropped the blade, though.“Thisis the greeting I get after eight years? Harsh.”

“You brought it on yourself.” Ghost pockets his dagger and turns to Brett with a pained expression. “I’m sorry you had to see that, darling.”

“This is bullshit,” I grumble, ducking just in time to dodge the punch Ghost throws in retaliation. “What? I feel like if anyone in this room is owed an apology, it’s probably the guy who almost got his throat slit for no good reason. Just saying.”

Ghost narrows his eyes. “I may have… overreacted slightly.”

“Slightly? You and Brett need to get your measurements straight, I swear.”

At my words, Brett lets out a boisterous laugh, causing some of the murderous rage in Ghost’s eyes to die.Thank bejeesus for that.

He turns his gaze back to me, and the murder flares to life again. “Well? Explain yourself.”

I’m about to reply with something sarcastic when Brett smacks Ghost hard on the arm, though he doesn’t react in the slightest. “Ghost! We should let him get settled in first.”

“Ah, yes. Get me all nice and comfy with a false sense of security before you attempt to extract my secrets from me. I like the way you think, Brett.” I tap my noggin with a smirk. “Diabolical as ever.”

Brett rolls her eyes. “Fine. You don’t have to talk about it. You don’t have to mention onewordof what happened eight years ago. You absolutely have no need to explain why you cut off all contact with your family for no reason or even why you refused each one of our twelve hundred attempted visits. Why you didn’t trust us enough to listen to your side of the story. To help you. And youcertainlydon’t have to explain why you broke our hearts.”

Shit. She’s gotten a lot better at the guilt trip since becoming a mom.“Brett… I’m sorry… it's not that I didn’t trust you. It’s that I didn’t trustmyself.I didn’t want to get out of there. I wanted to be left alone to rot. To live out the only fate I deserved.”

“Butwhy?” Her lower lip quivers as she looks upon the broken thing I’ve become. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

Ghost suddenly raises his head, his violet eyes swirling with understanding. “What happened that night, Orion? What happened at the Hound’s clubhouse? Why were you there in the first place?”

I shake my head, finding a spot on the floor to stare at and refusing to move my eyes. I’m about to open my mouth and tell them everything when a small screech reaches my ears. I whip my head toward the hallway, noticing half of a face peering at us from behind the shadowed corner.

“Sloane!” Brett crosses her arms as she gives her daughter a stern look. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“I don't wanna go to bed!” she whines, her violet eyes wide and brimming with tears. It’s clear she doesn’t wish to shed them, but her emotions are getting the best of her. For a moment, I debate offering to let her stay—quickly banishing the thought when I remember she’s barely eight years old, and this is not a conversation she should listen to.

---