Broken Reign: Enemies-To-Lovers Romance

He’s pissed.

“You came to my house and lied to my fucking face. I put Ivy’s life in your hands. I trusted you with my fucking family.” Although I never lied outright, an omission of truth is the same thing in our circles. “I knew you wanted out. I knew you hated Felix. I don’t even care about that shit. But your fucking name . . . Like. Hell.”

“That boy died the day his father did.”

It’s not untrue. A part of me did die that day. That’s why hearing that Skye thought I was dead shocked me to the core. It wasn’t really far from the truth.

“That’s not enough of a reason.” The hurt is clear in his eyes. He treated me like family. Unconventional family, but family, nonetheless.

I step forward and place my hand on his shoulder. “I fucked up.” I drop my arm and step back. Giving a moment to collect his thoughts. “I won’t do it again.”

“Yeah. You fucking did.” He lifts his arm and then tugs at the root of his hair. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”

“No.”

He nods, not to me but to himself, and then he locks eyes with me, lifting his pointer finger. “One. You get one.”

There is no need to clarify the threat. He will kill me. And to be honest, I would deserve it. I have killed for less. Without another word, he strides back in and heads toward the table.

“What makes you think it’s Felix?” He’s back to business, and I’m happy for it.

“When he rose to power in New York after that incident, it made the most sense.”

“But you have no proof. Nothing that connects him to the massacre.” I shake my head at Cyrus.

“No.”

“So . . . this could be completely separate.”

“It could, but I don’t think it is.”

“And you?” Cyrus turns to Skye. “You work for him. That’s not a coincidence.”

“No,” she answers.

“Why do you work for Felix?”

“Well, I don’t work for him as much as I work for a law firm that happens to represent him.” Cyrus shoots her a look that tells her to cut the crap. “But since we are opening up, yes, I had reason to believe Felix was involved.”

“Why?”

“I had evidence that placed him in Reddington at the time . . . doing business. I thought it seemed a bit too convenient.”

“What evidence?” Cyrus is a dog with a bone. Until she tells him everything. He won’t stop.

“My father . . .” She shakes her head. “My adoptive father has a file on the massacre.”

“Why does your dad have a file on the crime?”

“He was the cop on duty.”

“Explain.”

“My adoptive father was the cop who found us in the closet. When I woke up in the hospital, my parents had died. I was shot. Things were confusing, and I had no one. At first, he fostered me, then he adopted me.”

“He also told you I died,” I mumble under my breath.

“He did, and I’m going to find out why. But first, we need a plan.” She narrows her eyes at me, and I can’t help but laugh. Everyone at the table turns to me at the sound. It’s not something they hear often, so I can understand the surprise.

“Tell us about the file you found.” Cyrus says.

“Ironically, it had nothing to do with our parents’ case,” she explains. “It concerned other crimes that year.”

“Go on . . .”

“It involved properties that my client, Felix Bernard, financed. It didn’t say much, but it got me thinking. What were Felix’s ties to that town, and what would he have to gain? Since I now know his shopping malls are a front for his other enterprises, it made me wonder if he was the puppet master behind everything.”

I nod. “This was the smoking gun for me as well. I connected Felix to a building permit in Reddington. He purchased the property prior to the massacre.”

Skye’s eyes narrow, and her nose scrunches. “What was the purpose of the war?”

“For him to control the narrative. He owns the land and the supply chain of drugs, so he used the property to traffic the drugs through the state. The location is prime real estate.”

Skye clenches her jaw for a second before nodding her head. It seems we both came to the same conclusion.

“My father’s business put a damper on his plan,” I add, and she lets out a sigh.

“And my family was a casualty,” she says in a broken whisper.

Skye stirs in her chair, moving her body so her face is no longer visible. I know what she’s doing. She doesn’t want anyone to see the emotions playing out on her features. It’s a habit I know all too well. For years, I have been keeping everyone in my life at arm’s length.

Seeing the pain so clearly on Skye and knowing how much I wish to take the pain away makes me see I was wrong. You can’t do everything alone. Sometimes you need support and people to lean on. I look around the room. Those people are here.