Page 82 of Forged in Rain

Jig grimaces beside me and Bastion’s stare bores holes in my skull. When I raise my eyes to him and squint, he turns away.

“Well, honey. I think you need to come home so we can discuss it. I promised your dad I’d look after you, and I can’t do that if you’re not here.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I’m eighteen, Pam.” I’m holding my breath because I’ve never defied an adult, and I’m fucking sweating at the thought of what she might do.

There’s an extended pause before she says, “Very well. But come on Sunday and bring your boy so I can meet him properly.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Bye, honey.”

She’s gone before I can respond, and I drop the phone and rub my aching brow. What if we’re wrong? What if she isn’t Cue, and I’m being a total bitch? But then, who’s the woman Cyn answers to, and why would a little black book with his number in it be found in Pam’s bedroom?

And what the fuck am I supposed to do about it anyway?

“What did she say?” Bastion barks, and I jump.

“Chill out,” I mumble. “She wants me to bring Cyn to dinner on Sunday so we can chat and she can meet him.”

Bastion stares at me like I’ve just quoted the Bible or something, and shrugging, I glance out the window. As much as I’d like to worry about whatever she’s planning, she’ll have to get in line because I’m going out of my skin wondering what’s going on inside the prison.

Finally, after what feels like forever but is really only an hour, Cyn emerges with a wan face, his tired eyes drooping over his nose. He takes the back seat, to my relief, and Jig switches out. I don’t wait for permission, and thankfully, he doesn’t push me away when I slide into his arms and wrap myself around him tightly.

He returns the favor, burying his nose in my hair and fighting a sigh of relief, I lean back to look into his eyes. He smiles and traces my bottom lip as we drive away before pressing my head to his chest once more.

The ride is silent after that, and I sense he needs to regroup, as must the boys, because we leave him to it until about halfway through the trip when he speaks.

“This has been coming for a long time. He wasn’t surprised to see me and informed me that I’ve been a grunt for the Flaherty bitch since I was forced into this shit. He says our allegiance is to her.”

“Why?” I ask, ignoring the pulse of unease at his reference to Pam.

“Because,” Cyn says heavily, “he traded me away to her in place of Veah.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, leaning away.

Jig swears from the front seat, and the car swerves on the highway.

Cyn smiles macabrely, his right eye twitching as he growls, “If I don’t conform and perform, Veah is Pam’s.”

“To do what with?” I ask, ice in my veins.

Cyn drops his steely gaze to mine and drills me with his stare. Uncomfortable under the blaze, I glance away as he says, “Whatever the fuck she wants.”

Chapter Sixteen

The evening is grim. Cyn broods while we watch television by unspoken agreement. We’ve had enough revelations for one day, and now we’re attempting to decompress because fuck if we don’t need it.

I’m pretty sure none of us truly watches the movie, though, because Cyn is staring off into the distance. Bastion’s hard dark eyes are glaring at the screen, and Jig is unusually quiet.

My mind keeps circulating the same thoughts, of Pam, Iris and whatever happened to John. Then there’s McCafferty with his watery eyes and raspy chuckle. I don’t know how to give him what he wants. And with Veah in the mix, sweet, innocent, Veah, this just became ten times more complicated. I can’t let something happen to her because of me. But what do I do?

Shifting on the couch for the fifteenth time, I pause when Cyn turns my way, and I smile softly. His moody eyes search mine before he pulls me over, so I’m laying across his lap. Relaxing against him, I close my eyes because I didn’t know it, but I needed him to create contact between us.

He’s been achingly distant, and of course, I’ve been worried. Nothing about this is simple.

Now, I can relax, and I do, dropping into a light sleep.

“What are you going to do?”

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