Page 33 of Forged in Rain

“Look, C-c-cyn, look what I made today.”

“It’s gorgeous, Veah,” he says in his deep voice, but there’s a gentleness to his tone I’ve never heard before, and it tugs at my heart where nothing else could.

He may be a badass, but he’s also got a softer side, and it comes in the form of a cute little girl with the same brilliant eyes and dark hair.

“Gram says you’ve been out causing trouble,” Neveah says, her tiny voice filled with a curious awe.

“Gran,” Cyn growls.

“Don’t go lecturing me, young man. You know what I think about it,” she says in a low tone.

“Just keep it to yourself,” he says, and she sighs.

Stepping down the hall cautiously, I pause at the threshold when his grandma looks up and narrows her eyes. I get the sneaking suspicion she doesn’t like me much, but I don’t know if it’s me or because he’s a whore.

“I see we have a guest,” she says with a wicked glare at Cyn.

Neveah’s head swings my way, her bright eyes curious as she steps toward me. “I saw you here before.”

“Yes,” I say softly, smiling uncomfortably under her intense gaze. She’s so like Cyn when she looks at me like that, and similar to him, I’m uneasy under the scrutiny.

“Are you ahurelike Gram says?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.

“Gram,” Cyn barks, and she turns to him with an acidic expression before looking me over rudely.

“What?” I ask.

“Why would you—? Never mind,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Veah, Rain isn’t a—well, anything. Forget you heard that word.”

Oh. Huh.

Fighting the humiliating flush surely staining my cheeks, I turn to Cyn and say, “I’d like to go home now.”

With a grim nod, he leads me to the door and, ignoring the hurt circling my system at his grandma’s censure, I wait in the vehicle while he speaks to his sister at the door.

And even though I’m charmed by the hug he returns when she holds her little arms out to him, I turn away because I’ve had enough disappointment already.

The ride home is silent while I stew in my misery, wondering why it even matters what his family thinks of me. I mean, he doesn’t exactly like me either.

When we pull up to the house, I’m relieved to see Iris’ car parked in the drive because I don’t have to add worrying about her to my shitty day.

Cyn puts the vehicle in park, and I go to open the door when he says, “You need to search Iris’ room.”

Turning back with a frown, I ask, “What for?”

“Because that’s the job we’ve been given,” he says, clenching his jaw.

“Do you ever say no?” I search his eyes for answers, but he’s a blank slate.

“Not if I want to live.”

“Why do this knowing you can die?” I whisper, realizing for the first time that this is dangerous for him.

Naive, yes, but I have no frame of reference for these types of situations.

He chuffs and glances away, and I’m just about to jump from the SUV in defeat when he mutters, “My dad’s in state for ten years, and when he left, he gave me an ultimatum.”

“State?” I ask.

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