Ren closed his eyes. The tears didn’t come. It was as if his body had decided there was no liquid left to shed, that the supply had run out days ago, that all that remained was that abrasive dryness behind his eyelids.
His brother. Andrew. His damn older brother who was supposed to protect him. Who looked at him with that mixture of pity and contempt every time Julian lent his out for a night, as if Ren were to blame for being born an omega into a family that treated him like a bargaining chip.
“How long have they been…?”
“Since the day after the auction,” Zev said. “Malachi contacted your father that very night when they discovered you’d escaped. Your father offered to cooperate immediately.”
Immediately. Without hesitation. Without a moment’s hesitation.
Ren opened his eyes and looked ahead. The map on the desk. Lines, marks, names. His gaze slid over the papers without really seeing them until a name caught his eye like a hook.
Malachi Kovac.
Kovac.
The surname echoed in his head. Once. Twice. Three times.
Kovac.
Brody Kovac.
He spun around so fast that the chair screeched against the floor.
“Kovac,” he said, looking directly at Brody. At those gray eyes watching him with what might have been caution. “Your father? No, your uncle.”
It wasn’t a question. But Brody answered as if it were.
“Yes.”
A single syllable. No excuses. No beating around the bush. Not the slightest hint of regret in his voice.
“Malachi Kovac is your uncle.”
“Yes, Ren.”
The air in the room turned solid. Thick. Unbreathable. Ren stood up from the chair so abruptly that he knocked it backward, and the thud echoed like a gunshot.
“The man who auctioned me off. The man who locked me in that casino. The man who let them dress me up like a fucking doll andparade me in front of fifty predators.” Each sentence was a step he climbed, his voice cracking at the edges. “The man who’s now put a price on my head. He’s. Your. Uncle.”
Brody didn’t move.
“Did you know that the day Rocco pulled me out of there? Did you know who he was snatching me away from?”
“I knew.”
“And you didn’t think it was worth telling me?”
“It wasn’t the right time.”
“It wasn’t the right time?” Ren let out a laugh that tore at his throat. “When was it supposed to be the right time, Brody? Before or after we fucked?”
Zev straightened up against the bookshelf. A subtle, almost imperceptible movement, but Ren caught it. As if he were preparing to intervene. Ren glared at him.
“You knew too?”
“We all know,” Zev replied without flinching. “It’s the reason we exist.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”