Page 37 of Brutal Truths

There’s no way Antonio didn’t know. He’s the king. If that document existed, he would’ve been read in on everything his father knew—my secret, included.

The adoption papers, signed by King Ramon, prove he knew I wasn’t his biological child. Otherwise, why go through the formal process at all?

Why keep me? Why not send my mother and me away the moment he learned she was carrying another man’s child?

Was that why she killed him? Did she fear we’d be shunned and put into danger?

It’s possible that he kept it to himself. Didn’t share it with others, including her.

Not logical, but possible.

But again, why?

Were they afraid of Rurik, what he’d do if he learned about me? Did they even know he existed?

Pain pulses through my skull, and I press my fingers to my temple, as if that will stop my thoughts. It doesn’t.

My current situation says everything about what he’s capable of. Only a cruel, heartless man would do this to someone he believes is his own flesh and blood.

Unanswered questions swirl in my mind like a cyclone, each one a blow against my skull, feeding my pounding headache. It’s only making the pain and confusion worse.

But there’s no way to stop them. Not until I can speak to Rurik. The man who claims he’s my biological father.

And he’s still gone.

Why take me?

Doesn’t he know my family, those who raised me, won’t sit back and do nothing? The second they realize I’ve been kidnapped, my siblings will stop what they’re doing and make finding me their top priority.

They will find me.

When they do, there will be consequences. Rurik will pay for what he’s done. Even if he runs, they’ll hunt him down. Make sure he never gets the chance to do this to another soul.

My family can be ruthless. We’ve faced a lot of adversity before. People who’ve tried to ruin us with lies. Each time we’ve come out stronger.

We are warriors. A force to be reckoned with. My siblings—each one—has shaped that in me. The grit. The determination. The refusal to give up.

I may be down right now, but I’m not out. Years of training have prepared me for this. Adapt and survive. You utilize the tools available to take down the enemy. Anything can be a weapon if a person is desperate enough.

You don’t quit. Not when it hurts, not when it’s hard. You stop when there’s nothing left. Only when your last breath leaves your body. Not before.

Rurik has no idea what he’s up against messing with the Reyes family. I am a Reyes, no matter what that damn document suggests.

Grabbing the pillow next to me, I shove it over my face, letting out a muffled scream. Instantly, pain lashes through my skull, punishing me for my outburst, and I hurl it across the room.

It lands with a dull thud, knocking over a glass I hadn’t even noticed. Liquid spills across the floor, pooling beside a tray left near the door.

That must’ve been what woke me.

“Guess someone’s decided I need to eat,” I say to no one as I toss back the covers.

On the tray there’s a plate with a sandwich, a few carrots, and a bag of chips. I’m not hungry, but I’m weak, and that matters more. In case I get a chance to make a run for it, I’ll need my strength. My body feels heavy, and my energy drained. Those short naps can only do so much without nourishment. Maybe eating something will help clear the fog in my head.

As I’ve done each time, I stumble out of bed, my feet hitting the cold floor as I make my way to the door and twist the handle. It doesn’t budge—no surprise there. Bending, I pick up the tray to carry it back to the bed.

The glass of murky liquid smells like apple juice. Not something I like, so I ignore it. But that’s not why I leave it alone. I don’t trust it. Whoever put this together could’ve added something to it without detection. The same goes with the sandwich.

That leaves the carrots. I gather them and take them into the bathroom and wash them off the best I can. I’m tempted to use the toothbrush to scrub them, but the thought alone drains what little energy I have left, so I pray the water cleans them well enough.