Declan's POV
I stormed into the cell, slamming the door behind me. The sound echoed off the bare concrete walls, but my father didn't even flinch. He sat there on the small cot, looking at me with those calm eyes I used to admire. Now, they just pissed me off.
"Comfortable?" I sneered, leaning against the wall opposite him.
He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "I've had worse accommodations."
"Glad to hear it," I growled. "Because you'll be staying here for a long time."
My father sighed, running a hand through his gray hair. "Declan, son, can we talk? Really talk?"
"Don't call me that," I snapped. "You lost the right to call me 'son' when you faked your death and abandoned us."
"I never abandoned you," he said softly. "Everything I did was to protect you, to prepare you
