Roc…is involved…he is the topic...you both are.

Do you remember the day Roc was born?

You were only a day old, as pink and helpless as a piglet.

…it was a good day…I buried a secret that could have destroyed me—all of us. The Nailin tradition.

Nooooo! My mind has put it all together, but I scream again and again in my head, refusing to believe it. No! No! No!

But he won’t let it go—has to keep talking, like he always does. “I only gave the bitch what she asked for. I would think that would make you happy, considering who you keep company with. She wanted me—who was I to deny her? It’s not my fault she got pregnant, although I was quite tickled when she gave birth the day after your mother.”

His words are like darts, each one penetrating deeper into my heart. I don’t know how to speak at a normal volume anymore. Can only scream. “You liar! You raped her! You killed her! I hate you!”

Roc abruptly stands, his motions jerky as he steps past the chair, shoving it under the table. His eyes are moist as he staggers from the room, slamming the door behind him.

“I. Hate. You.” I spit the words out, one at a time, like I’m trying to eject a foul taste in my mouth. The image of my father smiling blinks over and over in my mind as I stride through the door and away from him.

* * *

I lie in bed staring at the rough ceiling without really seeing it. I want to be out looking for Roc, but they won’t let me. Ben said I would just get lost too, and then they’d have to find us both. Ben’s lying on the bed next to me, his injured leg elevated on a couple of pillows. He doesn’t try to talk to me, for which I am glad. He said I could take as long as I need before we talk about what happened with my father. But from the way Roc charged out of the room and the way I was shaking with anger and sadness when I emerged, I think he knows it’s something bad.

Roc is my half-brother. Of that I am certain. Although my father is not one to be truthful very often, in this case the truth served his purpose so he went with it. From the smile on his face at our reaction, I know in this case he relished the truth. And who knows how many other half-brothers I have out there. Knowing my father, there could be dozens. Dozens of motherless children. Dozens of dead mothers.

I close my eyes. All these years…

I’ve considered Roc to be my brother all these years, but in a loyalty sense. In a friendship sense. But it seems our bond is built of more than just shared experience. We share a father. I feel bad for Roc right away, because now he’s stuck with my father, which I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, and certainly not on my best friend. We share the Devil as our father.

The question that I can’t seem to answer, though, is why did he reveal this to us? Why to me? Why to Roc? My worst fears were that he would threaten me through those I care about, but that didn’t happen. There is seemingly no purpose to what he did. It’s as if he did it just to…spite me, to break my spirit. Perhaps he thinks it will drive a wedge between Roc and me, thus creating chaos in my life. Maybe he believes in his sick and twisted mind that I’ll give up on the cause, go into hiding somewhere, or even return to him. He’s so arrogant he might just think that.

But I won’t. He’s only succeeded in lighting a fire in my belly, one that won’t be extinguished until he’s destroyed and his power usurped.

I open my eyes and roll my head to the right, where I can see Ben, who looks like he’s sleeping. On the floor is a piece of paper. Roc’s drawing. The side with the portrait of Tawni is face down, leaving the drawing of the woman who is half his mom and half my mom revealed. Not just my mom—his stepmom.

It’s weird, how none of it makes sense at first, but then all of it seems to make sense. That he always felt like my brother, always felt like my mom’s son. Us playing, laughing, growing up together. The only part that doesn’t feel right is that a guy who turned out as honest, caring, and awesome as Roc should have a father like mine. I guess that gives me hope that I’ll turn out all right in the end.

A nasty thought pops into my head and I squeeze my eyes shut again, trying to make it go away. But it won’t, not until I think about it, so I let it in slowly, playing it around in my mind. Could my mom have known Roc was her stepson? Is that why she always treated him the way she did? My initial reaction is No way, José; my mom, the kind, loving person I grew up with, would never do that, would never keep such a secret from us. But then again, I never thought she would leave me alone with my father, no matter how bad things got for her.

I pound my forehead with the heel of my hand. I hate these thoughts. My anger should be turned on my father, not on my mother. This is exactly what he wants—for me to doubt things, to doubt my mother, to doubt myself. I’m playing right into his hands. If my mother left, then she had a damn good reason, one that was for the good of everyone involved, including me. She wouldn’t do something like that, and she wouldn’t keep a secret from us, like the one my father revealed today.

“She didn’t know,” I say out loud, opening my eyes and trying out the words to see how they sound.

“Who didn’t?” Ben asks, his own eyes blinking open.

I glance at him. I’m ready to talk about it—at least as ready as I’ll ever be.

“My mother,” I say. I tell him everything, the whole dark and twisted story. I even tell him how I felt, about Roc’s reaction, about my father’s smug smile. By the end my vision is blurry and my cheeks wet, and for a moment I’m embarrassed, using the back of my hand to wipe away the tears, turning my face away from Ben. Adele’s father. My judge. My jury.

“I don’t think she knew either. Your mother,” Ben says.

“How can you say that? You don’t even know her.” The words come out angrier than I planned and I feel like I’m defending my mom, even though what he said was what I wanted to hear.

“Call it a hunch,” Ben says, ignoring my tone. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

He’s such a genuine guy that I can’t hold onto my anger. “It’s okay. I suppose it’s better to know the truth, even when it’s hard.”

“Those are mature words.”

My embarrassment waning, I turn back to face him. His green eyes are shining with the moisture in them. While I was protecting some silly requirement for manly pride, he was crying, too, maybe not as much as me, but still. It makes me feel better. He’s the leader of the Resistance, strong, a fighter, a hero to his daughter. And becoming a hero to me. A true man. So if I’m crying and he’s crying, then maybe I’m just a little bit like him. For the first time since the meeting with my father, I have hope again. That there’s good in the world. That evil can be vanquished. And that I can help to do it.

“Let’s go find Roc,” he says.

Chapter Fifteen

Adele

Without time to consider my options, I close the distance to the rope ladder in three long strides and leap onto it just before someone starts pulling it up. My knuckles scrape against the stone block wall as the rope starts to swing, but I force my fingers to hold on. I hear Tawni shout below me but I don’t look down as I feel the earth moving away from my feet.

Instead, I peer up and see a set of eyes attached to a small body looking down at me. A boy, older than the crying kid, but no more than Elsey’s age. He’s hanging onto the rope ladder casually, using just his knees, as if he does it all the time. And in his hands: a slingshot, which he’s already pulling back.