"Yes, Wrex," Nyx whispered. Her voice cracked, losing all its hardened, militant edge as she placed a scarred, trembling hand on the boy's thin shoulder. "He is your father."
The cavern went deathly quiet. Even the crackle of the torches seemed to hold its breath.
Finn looked as though he had been struck by lightning. The towering, lethal enforcer – a man who had faced down Kaelin's armies and rogue kings without blinking – physically swayed. He took a slow, stumbling step toward the boy.
He dropped to his knees on the cold stone floor, bringing himself eye-level with the ten-year-old. His massive, battle-scarred hand reached out, trembling so violently it shook, stopping just an inch from Wrex's cheek as if he were terrified the boy was a mirage that would vanish upon contact. Finn was
