Broken Truths (The Frayed Trilogy 2)

Easton narrows his eyes at me as a muscle ticks in his jaw. “She didn’t react like someone simplyscared,Sebastian. They were probably working together. How the hell else would she have known exactly who he was when we couldn’t find anything in eight fucking months?”

“They were not working together, “I say on a growl.

“And how the fuck would you know? Did she ever tell you where she got the information? The only reason she gave us anything, to begin with, was to save her own ass.”

I stand from my chair and plant my hands on the desk. “You don’t know anything about her.”

“Neither do you! That’s the fucking problem. Somehow, she’s involved in what happened to your parents, but she lets you fuck her, and you can’t even think straight.”

“Because it doesn’t fucking hurt as much when I’m with her!” My voice rumbles out of my throat. Rough. Raw.

Hurt flashes across Easton’s face before he buries it under a scowl. If I weren’t so angry, I might’ve dived deeper into his reaction. Ever since Grace showed up, he’s been hellbent on proving her guilty as well as being in a generally pissier mood.

“What the fuck were you thinking today?” Both mine and Easton’s heads swing to the door as Vincent storms into the office. “You risked my job with that HR nonsense.”

“How the fuck did you get in here?” I ask, straightening to my full height.

“I’ve been coming here since before you were even born,” Vincent says, and I make a mental note to have every fucking lock changed.

Vincent flicks his eyes to Easton, and his lip curls in disgust. But the way in which Easton merely glares back at his father only seems to set Vincent off more. They couldn’t be more different. Where Easton is tall and muscular, Vincent is barely pushing six foot, and it’s not the only thing he’s pushing—the other being his waistline. Whilst there is some facial resemblance between the two of them, it’s minimal and apparent Easton got most of his features from his mother.

“You have some fucking nerve showing up here after the shit you pulled today,” I say, rounding the desk.

“Youassaultedme, Sebastian. On company grounds, no less. What did you think was going to happen?” Vincent bristles.

I let out a dry laugh. “Don’t try and pretend this is anything other than you trying to steal my job. You’ve been watching my every move from day one. When trying to persuade me to hand it over voluntarily didn’t work, you made up some fucking story to get me fired. If you’re trying to accuse someone of assault, it might help not to have an encyclopedia for an HR file full of complaints,includingassault. Oh, and some fucking proof.”

Vincent’s nostrils flare, and he narrows his eyes at me before replying, “You never should have been given the position,” he says, not even trying to lie anymore.

“Reed Shipping ismycompany, Vincent. And that’s never going to change, not as long as I live, so I suggest you give up this game now because it’s not going to end well for you. I’ll make sure you end up with nothing.” Vincent’s mouth opens and closes as he flounders for a response, but I’m not finished yet. “Also, you’re going to tell me everything you know about Alexander Deveigne, and why the fuck he killed my parents…”

The room is silent, and the change in Vincent is noticeably obvious. His fists unclench, and his narrowed eyes widen as his anger fades into shock at my words. “What?” he asks.

“You heard me. Turns out the fucking bastard you set up that ridiculous meeting with was responsible for my parents’ murder. Did you know that when you sent us there?” I ask, rounding the desk.

“That’s not possible,” he says.

“I can assure you it is. Did you know?”

“Of course not,” he grits out. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to kill him, just as I did the bastard he paid to do his dirty work.”

Vincent’s eyes nearly bug out of his head at my confession, and maybe I shouldn’t have given him any more ammunition to use against me but fuck it. He needs to know how serious I am about this.

“What reason would he have to do it?” I ask him. He has to know something. After all, he’s the one who set up the meeting between us.

“I have no idea, Sebastian. I only set up the business meeting, that’s all,” he says.

I study his face for a long moment, searching for any sign he could be lying. “Then get the fuck out of my house.”

Vincent stiffens and opens his mouth to no doubt argue, but Easton steps forward. “Time to go,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. Vincent glares at his son, but Easton doesn’t back down.

“You’re fucking useless. You always did pick his side, ever since you were a fucking boy. You know nothing about loyalty. If you did, you’d put your family first. I didn’t have to take you in when your mother dumped you at my door, but I did, and this is what I get in return?” Vincent seethes, and Easton flinches ever so slightly.

“Out. Now.” Easton’s voice is barely restrained—the tone lying beneath the surface volatile. If Vincent doesn’t see how close his son is to breaking, he deserves what’s coming to him. I’ve never understood why Easton allows Vincent to get away with how he treats him, but it’s only a matter of time before he explodes.

“Vincent, if you’re not out of this door in two seconds, I’ll throw you out myself. And don’t think I won’t fucking do it,” I say, and after a second more of glaring at his son, he turns around in a huff and leaves the office.

“Do you believe him?” I ask Easton when he’s gone.

“I don’t know.”