Tiara’s POV
The room smelled like antiseptic and something metallic—probably blood. Michael lay on the examination table, pale but awake, while the doctor worked quickly. The bandages on his side were fresh, but I could see pain in his eyes. He wouldn’t say it, though. Wouldn’t admit it.
I stood near the window, arms crossed, my fingers digging into my skin. Adrian was by the door, watching me like a man expecting a bullet between the eyes. Maybe he should be.
“Start talking,” I said, voice steady, though I wasn’t sure how. “No more riddles, no more games. Who the hell are you to me?”
Adrian exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “You already know, Tiara.”
“Say it.”
His jaw tensed. “We’re family.”
The words hung in the air like a bomb that hadn’t exploded yet.
I laughed, short and
