Chapter 27
27
Pace
“So,” I say, drawing out the word as I park. “You think Maddox is banging a twenty-year-old right now in his crypt?”
Wicker snaps, “Dude, we promised not to mention it!”
“You promised.” I laugh, killing the ignition. We’re parked in front of Royal Ink, and it hits me how often we’re in West End these days. I still remember having to sneak into the territory to get to Verity that one night, months ago. Scaling this building, getting in through the skylight, and standing in wait as she showered up there. “I’m fucking fascinated by the entire thing. Like, how does it work with him and the other Barons? Do they share? Does she call him Dadd?—”
He whips a hot glare on me. “I swear to god I will punch you in the junk if you don’t stop.”
Maybe Wicker having this whole extended family isn’t such an issue, after all. I haven’t seen him this riled up in years. “Fine,” I agree, laughing. “Fine.”
We pass Rory and Baxter on the way up, telling them to take off before riding the elevator up to the top floor. Since the Dukes and Lavinia didn’t have a baby to come home to, they hung back to enjoy the post-wedding festivities, meaning Mama B is still alone with Justice.
“You’re early,” she says, when we walk through the door. The admonishment is clear in her voice, although it’s hard to tell whether or not that’s down to the trashy reality TV show she just paused on the big screen. “I told you, we’re fine.”
Wicker looks around the space, having never been here before. Yes, I want to say, that’s the table where Nick Bruin nearly bled to death.
I bet they eat steaks on it now.
“Lex has been busy with med school and hasn’t had much time with Verity.” He shrugs, picking up a trophy on the side table and inspecting it. “We decided to come pick up Justice and give them a few minutes.”
Resigned, Mama B turns off the TV, rising to her feet. “He’s in the bedroom, out like a light,” she says, walking over to the wine refrigerator. She pulls out a bottle and holds it up to Wick. “Want a glass?”
“No thanks,” he says, pushing his fists into his pockets. “We’ve agreed to stay sober in solidarity while Verity was pregnant, and now, nursing.”
She looks vaguely impressed. Then, she pops the cork. I hear the gurgle of wine pouring into the glass as I enter the guest room, seeking out our son. Justice is on his back in the portable crib, his pacifier resting next to his head, and like always, I have to take a long moment just to watch him, seeing his chest rise and fall with even breaths.
He’s nothing like I thought he’d be.
Although he looks like the perfect combination of Wicker and Verity, sometimes these little peeks of mine and Lex’s personality will already show through in him. Like how he wakes up in a furious tizzy, or when his curious eyes scan around each room I take him to.
There’s nothing more soothing than walking him around the palace, watching him explore how big the world is. Some nights, when he’s fussy, I’ll walk for hours, showing him the place where Effie first got out of her cage, or the sitting room we used to play Iceberg in, or the huge oak out front where I used to take my laptop during our weekends home.
I try to show him the good memories.
Unfortunately, the smell hits me before I even pick him up, and I turn, finding Wicker lingering in the doorway. “He needs a change.” I grimace, and even from where he’s standing, Wicker looks like he may hurl. “I’ll do it if you’ll get his stuff together and take it to the car.”
Wick holds up his hands. “No argument here.”
Verity makes fun of me for how precise I am with setting up for changing Justice’s diapers, but I’ve learned it’s a lot like torturing a mark down in the dungeon. It’s smelly and super gross, and if you’re not careful, you may get fluids on you, but everything goes smoothly if you’re well prepared. Before I pick up the baby, I’ve already got the changing pad arranged on the bed and the packet of wipes ready. A diaper and fresh pajamas wait nearby.
“Okay, little guy, let’s do this,” I whisper, picking him up. I kiss his perfect little button nose before setting him on the pad, and start the process of undressing him.
“Dude, what did mommy eat before she fed you?” Definitely not almonds. Justice gurgles, not quite smiling yet, but energetically waving his fists around. “I’ll make this fast if you promise not to pee on me, deal?”
I get to work, glancing over my shoulder when I sense someone behind me. Verity’s mother stands in the doorway, a glass of red wine in her hand. “Sy kept Saul’s collection, and I couldn’t resist breaking into it,” she explains, watching me and Justice with a soft grin. I wipe all of his crevices—there are so many—getting him squeaky clean. “You’re good with him.”
I toss her a smile. “Is that a surprise?”
It still is to me, sometimes.
“A little,” she confesses, stepping into the room. She sits on the bed next to the baby, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “When I found out about Verity becoming Princess, I hated you. All three of you. Although, maybe hate isn’t a strong enough word. Murder,” she dryly adds, “wasn’t off the table.”
My smile hardens into a scowl. “Gee, thanks.”
She shakes her head, looking rueful. “The only thing I knew about any of you was that your father was a monster. Maybe that was unfair.”
I don’t tell her how fair that actually might have been.
We did things to her daughter that I’d absolutely kill someone over if they were done to Justice. Even though Verity’s forgiven us for those things, the thought still sits bitterly in the back of my throat.
Mama B goes on, “Even though I understand a little better now, I can’t say I haven’t been worried about my daughter and grandson this whole time. And I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure how you and Lex would feel about a baby that isn’t biologically yours once he got here.”
This makes me snort. “Family isn’t about blood. It’s about the people you love,” I tell her. “You should know that. You see DKS as your family, don’t you?” I grab the tiny diaper and slip it under Justice’s body, giving his belly a little tickle. “Lex and Wicker are my brothers, and Justice is my son.”
Her head cocks as she assesses me. “And Rufus?”
Freezing, I swallow back a lump in my throat at his name, head shaking. “He was never a father to us. He was a controlling prick who collected us for his own scheme to create a legacy.” I fasten the tabs on the diaper, and Justice’s little legs wiggle around, kicking against me. “A real father could never hurt his son. I understand that now.” I stroke the bottom of his tiny foot, smiling when he squawks. Slowly, the smile falls, hardening. “He took my biological family away from me before I even understood what it meant, and Danner chose to take the secret of my father’s identity to the grave.”
When I glance over, she’s watching me intently, an odd sadness swimming in her eyes. “I didn’t know he was hurting the three of you. If I’d known…” She sighs, long and hard, slipping her finger into Justice’s grasping hand. “Sometimes I feel responsible.”
My face twists. “Why the fuck would you feel responsible? Because you kept Verity away from him?” Snorting, I tell her, “That was probably the best decision you ever made.”
But she shakes her head, a heaviness to the gesture. “If you spoke to Danner, then I’m sure you know about what Rufus was doing to those Princesses.” She shifts, grimacing. “You realize he was infertile.”
I shrug. “Yeah, he was shooting blanks. Danner told us.”
“But he wasn’t always,” she says, the words slow and full of significance. “Not before I conceived Verity.”
I do a double take at the glint in her eyes, realization dawning on me. “You mean…”
“The night he raped me, I got my revenge.” She sniffs, the sound full of contempt. “The tip of my steel-toed boot, slamming right into his rotten testicles. I can’t know for certain if that’s what caused it, of course. But after, I know he was…” Her eyes sparkle menacingly. “Let’s just say he was out of the game for a while.”
I look at this woman in a new light, imagining her burying her boot into Father’s nutsack, right after he made his final useful deposit.
Speak now a prayer for the fruitless…
And I laugh.
“Good on you,” I say, not even caring about the implications. If Liberty Sinclaire took away Rufus’ ability to create, then she’s a fucking badass, and I’d tell it to anyone who asked.
“You’re right about your father being a controlling prick.” She takes a gulp of wine while handing me a clean pair of pajamas. “He had everyone who crossed his path in a chokehold. One wrong move and he’d make our lives hell. It’s why I hid Verity from him for as long as I could.” Justice grabs one of the bangles on her wrist and holds on. She offers him a smile, even though her eyes look haunted. “You know what he was capable of, Pace, and that’s why I held onto the secrets. It’s why Danner took them to the grave.”
I look up at her, and from her expression, it’s clear she has more to say, but can’t bring herself to do it. I pick up Justice and nestle him carefully in the crook of my arm. “What are you trying to say?”
There’s a long moment where I think she’s just going to blow it off. But then she says, “Your mother—Odette. I knew her.” She takes a deep breath. “We grew up together.”
Tensing, anxiety tightens my throat. I’ve learned not to get my hopes up, but still, I ask, “You did?”
She gazes into her glass, a wistfulness crossing her features. “Non-Royals had a little more freedom to socialize together. We went to the same parties, hung out down by the river, flirted with boys at the Fury.” She smiles at the memory. “We had a lot of fun, but then she applied for the job of handmaiden to the Princess. She was devoted to Miranda, and later, her son.” An airy laugh escapes her. “We were all shocked when she was invited to the masquerade the next year. Even more so when she received the title.” She touches a smudge of lipstick on the edge of her glass. “That, among other things, was the reason I hated to lose Verity to East End. I knew that a Princess would be so consumed with her ‘duties’ that she completely lost touch with the outside world. It’s hard,” she stresses, meeting my gaze, “being torn between the territory you love and the one you have a duty to.”
I think back to how we managed every moment of Verity’s day—how Father kept us busy with sports, school, and events. There’s a certain kind of power in that type of discipline.
“Someone told me once that my birth father was DKS.” The bitter taste Bruce Oakfield’s intel used to give me has tempered over time.
“You know who your father is?” she asks, face showing surprise.
“Lex confirmed it.” I’m not sure Pauly wants the world to know his business. When he’s ready to claim it, he can.
Luckily, she doesn’t ask for a name. “Odette would’ve kept it a secret for all of your safety. By the time word trickled over to West End that she was expecting, I was dealing with the fallout of the hurricane and my own pregnancy.” She looks down at Justice. “But it makes sense for your father to be from West End. She was always drawn to the men on my side of town.”
There’s a heaviness in the air so I just cut to it. “I’m aware of what Rufus did to my mother—Danner told me that much. I know he…” The words feel brittle in my throat, voice cracking. “He locked her up in the dungeon after she got pregnant as punishment for being unfaithful. I know I was… born there.” The irony hits hard. All my wanting to lock away the people I love, yet I was born in a cell. I hold back the rage—barely. “I also know he agreed to send me away if she agreed to his terms. Danner just…” Frustrated, I huff. “He didn’t tell me what those terms were.”
Verity’s mother takes a careful sip of her wine before looking at me, her eyes glassy and tired. “Do you want to know what happened? It’s not pretty, but with Rufus gone, I feel…” Visibly struggling to find the words, she pauses, nodding. “I feel like I can finally tell the truth without retribution on any of us.” She gives me a miserable smile. “But Pace, sometimes it’s better to let things rest. You do have a family now. You have two brothers. My daughter loves you, and I know you love her as much as you love that sweet boy you’re holding.”
I look down at Justice, remembering the day Verity set us free. She looked so fierce and beautiful as she sliced that knife over Rufus’ throat, announcing the name she’d given to our son. Only, it wasn’t just a name. It was a promise all of us made to East End that night. And to each other.
“Justice can’t be served without knowing the truth,” I conclude, meeting Liberty’s sad gaze. “Tell me.”
She watches me perch on the edge of the bed with a drawn expression. “After you were born,” she begins, wrapping her hands around the glass, “your father put Odette to work at the Gentlemen’s Chamber.”
“He made her strip?” I ask, clutching Justice close. When she nods, my stomach sinks. “That son of a fucking bitch.”
“She was a novelty,” Mama B explains, her eyes looking far away at the memory. “A former Princess available to the masses. Men could stuff her garter with cash, and she’d have to serve them. But he didn’t just keep her around to humiliate her.” Here, she shifts, her discomfort a palpable thing. “He knew she was fertile and he was still pissed at the betrayal. Bitter. Because she and some random West Ender created life out of thin air, and he couldn’t get anyone pregnant. But god, did he try.”
I think I understand the guilt in her eyes now, watching as she recalls the consequences of making a man like Rufus Ashby—a man who was raised to believe his own house motto—infertile.
I force myself to hear her words, already anticipating what’s coming.
“Over the next few years, he raped her,” she bluntly says, eyes growing flinty. “It wasn’t called that, of course. Rufus was a King and Odette was his to do with as he pleased—especially since he was the only one who knew where her son was.” Suddenly, she barks a dark, vicious laugh. “And she did eventually get pregnant, but here’s the kicker. The baby didn’t belong to him.” Dipping her chin, she pins me with a significant look. “They didn’t belong to him.”
My tongue sticks in my mouth. “They?” A pain, like the tip of a dagger, pierces my heart. “She had twins,” I realize.
She had dungeon twins.
Mama B mentioned them in the negotiations between Rufus and DKS. We’d watched the footage later. It was such a flippant comment, infuriatingly brief, but I remember it scaring him.
Now, I understand why.
“You have siblings.” She nods, her smile jagged but bright. “Two of them.”
I jolt to my feet at the way she speaks of them. I have siblings. Present-tense. “They’re still alive? They’re… out there somewhere? I don’t—” Stuttering, I admit, “I don’t understand. We know she wasn’t with the other princesses’ bodies in the solarium. Lex tested them all. If he didn’t bury her there, then where is she?”
Mama B holds up a palm, stilling me. “Odette got pregnant again, but she had something this time she didn’t have before.” I don’t understand the flash of pride in her eyes as she drains the last of her wine. “Help.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Danner?”
“That wrinkly, poisoned toad? Hell no.” Scoffing, she shakes her head, a slow, fond smile lighting her face. “She had something much better than him. Me.” Raising her glass, she says, “And a reigning Princess.”
I don’t realize that I’m shaking until Adeline hands me the cup of tea.
“I always knew this day would come,” she says, sitting across from me. Mama B, who offered to drive after Wicker took Justice home, is perched on the other armchair. “I just didn’t expect it so soon. I guess I just figured the King was invincible, and we’d all go to our graves carrying his disgusting secrets.” She’s in a fuzzy pink robe, her hair twisted into a dozen or more rollers, and a pair of oversized eyeglasses are perched on her nose. No makeup or curls or accessories, just a pocketful of tissues.
It’s like seeing behind the curtain.
Awkwardly, I shrug. “He thought he was, too. But turns out, he was mortal like the rest of us.” I take a sip and realize she added a heavy dose of bourbon. Thank fuck. “You lied to me that day I was here,” I say, recalling our discussion at the Gilded Rose.
“This woman, clearly someone you’re related to, is a mystery. We’ve got no information on her at all. I was hoping you might know.”
Adeline gives me a regretful smile. “I wasn’t sure yet how much you knew. In truth, I wasn’t even positive you were the baby Rufus forced her to give up. It was just a hunch. But I could tell you were curious. Searching.” Her head tilts. “Duplicity isn’t something I boast about, but I’ve learned to be good at it.” She glances at Mama B, a proud grin on her face. “Fifteen years and the bastard never knew I was involved in getting Odette out of that cell.”
Mama B chuckles. “No one ever suspects a woman in fuzzy pink slippers.”
Adeline raises her glass in a toast. “Hear, hear.”
I watch them with a sense of total disbelief, wondering, “How the hell did you do that? The dungeon is impenetrable. Ask me how I know.”
Pushing her glasses up her nose, Adeline looks skyward, pulling up the recollection. “I remember I’d just been coronated—barely a month along in the pregnancy. My Princes were—and I’m sure you can relate, Pace—handsome and ambitious, and very eager with their deposits.”
Mama B chokes on her tea, hacking a cough. “Christ, Adeline, I don’t want to hear that shit.”
She just shrugs, unbothered. “But they were dreadful at the uglier bits. The morning sickness and the constant puking were repulsive to them.” Rolling her eyes, she recounts, “One day, after returning to the palace from campus, I was rushing up the stairs to get to the bathroom. But I didn't make it. Doubled over right there and hurled my guts out on the second- floor landing. I’d grabbed onto the nearest thing I could find to brace myself, which turned out to be a?—”
“Wall sconce.” I set my tea down slowly, sensing where this was going. “You found the secret passage.”
“Yes!” she chirps, growing animated. “So, being the curious girl I was, I followed it down to the basement.”
“The dungeon,” I correct.
She nods impatiently. “And right there, in that awful cell, was none other than Odette Delisle.” A hand flutters to her chest. “I was shocked to see her there, obviously pregnant, but far too thin. At first, I was so confused. Everyone had heard the rumors about the failed Princess that the King took pity on by giving her a job at the Gentlemen’s Chamber. To the rest of Forsyth, she was entertainment, but to future princesses, she was a warning.”
Swallowing, I ask, “What did you do?”
“Oh, I just talked to her.” A tenderness fills her eyes as she stirs her tea. “For the next couple weeks, I’d bring her all the food that I couldn’t manage to keep down anyway, and I tried to think of a way to help her. But,” She pauses, pain filling her eyes. “I was weak and always sick. My pregnancy wasn’t going so well.” Twisting a tissue in her hands, she looks away. “And then, during the Lords’ Christmas party, I met Liberty.”
“I had a four-year-old, a babysitter, and five precious hours to spare.” Mama B levels me with a look. “I was three sheets to the wind, ranting about Rufus fucking Ashby.”
“I took a chance and told her about what I had found,” Adeline explains, sitting to her full height. “And together, with the help of a couple of other Royal women, we organized a little rescue mission.”
My heart races as I glance between them. “You got her out?”
Mama B nods. “We did. Right out the solarium, through the back lawn, and into a little jon boat anchored on the shore. Rufus never saw it coming.” Her stare shifts to Adeline, who’s grown conspicuously silent, that tissue in her hands being twisted to tatters. “Unfortunately, that was the night Addy lost her baby.”
It grips my chest, the way the creation of life in Forsyth always seems to cling to death. Adeline’s baby, Lex’s parents, Wicker’s father, Rufus and Laura Walker…
Can creation ever just come without destruction?
“I’m sorry,” I say, voice tight.
Adeline shrugs this off with a breezy, “That miscarriage may have saved my life. I wasn’t just a failed Princess. I was broken, and Rufus released me, none the wiser.” But the anguish is there, right beneath the surface. “It was easier knowing I’d helped save three lives.”
Taking a deep breath, I raise my plaintive gaze to hers. “If there’s anything you know—anything you can tell me about my mother or siblings…” Pausing, I try, “I can… pay you, or?—”
Adeline goes rigid, throwing Mama B a shocked look. “Heavens! What do you take me for?”
Mama B extends a palm. “He was raised by Rufus, Addy. Nothing’s free in his world.”
Now Adeline just looks sad, frowning. “Pace, I haven’t had contact with your mother in years. My family ties to the Gilded Rose gave me a purpose, but you know better than anyone that Rufus watched our every move.” Her eyes plead with me to understand. “It wasn’t safe for her or the children, and she knew that. That’s why she gave them up for adoption as soon as they were born.”
I balk. “She got out with them, and then gave them up?” What a waste. That’s all I can think as I take in the thought of her handing her babies—fuck, two of them—over to some stranger.
Some days, it’s hard to even leave Justice to go to class.
“She did it to protect them,” Mama B says. “She didn’t care if Rufus found her, but the thought of him finding her children…”
Through the lump in my throat, I finish, “And doing to them what he did to me.”
Scooting closer, Adeline explains, “She didn’t get a choice with you, Pace. But with those two babies, she was able to choose the family. A nice couple with three kids, if memory serves.”
I ask the question that I’ve been holding on to all night. “Do you know how I can find her?”
Them?
She and Mama B share a look. “I know where to start, although for everyone’s safety, the information changes quickly. We took her to a safe house in Northridge, and from there, she went underground. I do know she had the babies—my contact showed me a picture. After that… the trail runs thin. Intentionally.”
“That’s all I need,” I tell her, setting the teacup on the table. My heart and mind are racing. “I can hack into just about anything once I have a lead to go on, and this thing about Northridge?—”
“Pace,” Mama B says, resting her hand on my knee. “You can’t hack your way into this one.”
“Sure I can.” I’m itching to get to my setup now.
“Hacking into a system like this will put women at risk,” she explains. “Rufus may be gone, but other abusers are out there. You can't punch a hole in their privacy and security. It’s too dangerous.”
“We’ll help you,” Adeline says. “But you’re going to have to trust us.”
Trust two women I barely know with one of the most important details of my life?
“Fine,” I breathe, rising to my feet. Mama B follows and I extend a hand to Adeline, watching surprise cross her face at the gesture. Gently, she takes it, giving my hand a shake.
“Pace,” Adeline says, “always remember that your mother thought of you first. Every move, every sacrifice, was with the consideration of her children.” She touches my cheek. “She loved you, and she’d be so proud to see the amazing man and father you’ve become.”
Even though the words are coming from Adeline and not my mother herself, I feel the truth in them. Odette is a survivor. Just like I am.
And that’s a bond we’ll always share, even if I never get the chance to meet her.