Page 53 of Forged in Rain

Ignoring the slice of caution telling me to keep my mouth shut, I say firmly, “Neither do I.”

Hate’s jaw drops to his knees, his nostrils flaring like a bull, and he prepares to lambaste me, no doubt, but Cyn interjects, giving me a warning glare. “Hate, anything to do with Jagger is important at this point.”

Sighing, Hate mutters, “Fucker just can’t stay out of trouble. Okay, explain to me why this is significant.”

“Because,” Iris says from the door, giving me a nasty look, “we just made his piece of shit uncle disappear.”

“Come again?” Hate says.

“Did you know?” I demand as she pulls out a chair and sits down next to me with a huff.

“No.”

“Iris,” I say in warning because I know she’s lying. The picture in her jacket tells me that, but of course, it’s like she can’t fucking help herself.

“I said no.”

“What do you mean you made him disappear?” Hate asks with raised brows.

Rolling her shoulders, she says, “I made a deal with Saul to off my uncle.”

“Except Saul says he didn’t do it,” I mutter.

“Then who did?” Jig asks.

“We don’t know,” I say grimly.

“You don’t fucking know?” Hate bellows.

Flinching, I turn to Cyn, who’s eyeing me suspiciously, before sighing and rubbing my forehead.

“Iris,” Cyn barks, and she raises shining eyes toward him. “Who did it?”

“I don’t know,” she says softly, but when he merely raises a brow, she firmly repeats, “I don’t know.”

“Okay, fine,” Jig growls, “Who did you fuck for it?”

Cringing, I cast him a glare, but he’s too busy looking at Iris to pay me any mind. Iris frowns before saying, “When?”

“When?” Bastion and Cyn say in unison as Hate pulls out a chair and grunts.

“Yes, when. I’ve been trying to off the dick since . . .”

“Since when?” Bastion asks in a low tone, his shoulders bunched around his head.

Pulling her face into a sneer, she says, “When he fucked a bastard into me and convinced my mother I was a whore.”

“Oh, Iris,” I say sadly, and she glares at me so fiercely I shrink away.

“Don’t fucking speak to me about it. You think a few whippings were bad? Please.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as Cyn cuts in with an icy glare.

“Enough.”

“Enough what?” she snaps.

“Who are the possible fucking suspects, Iris?” Cyn says through gritted teeth, and she sits back with a frown.

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