Page 25 of Nomad: Violent Devotion

“You want answers.”

“I’d like the truth.”

“I’m not sure I know what that looks like.” At least I can say that part is true.

He barks a laugh. “You’ve got plenty of truth.” He leans in, eyes cold and splintered. “When we met ... was any of it real, or was I just a job?” Because that’s what this is really about, whether anything between us meant anything at all.

The question punches the air out of me, and I look away.

“So that’s a no.”

“No,” I say, voice cracking. “That’s not...”

“Don’t. I’ve had enough lies this week.”

“I wasn’t lying.”

“No?” He stands so fast the chair grates the floor, pacing the kitchen, one fist pressed to his side. “You flirted. Kissed me. Climbed on my bike. Watched me trust you. Then put a knife in my side.” All of it hangs there, the same damn question ... Was any of it real?

The room shrinks. “I know.”

“No, you fucking don’t.” His laugh is pure venom. “I keep replaying it, trying to find the part that wasn’t a fucking lie.”

I grip the mug, knuckles white. “It wasn’t fake.”

“What wasn’t?”

“My feelings. That’s the only real thing I’ve got left.”

“Then explain the knife.”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“I...” My throat locks. “I can’t.”

He stares, then snatches his jacket. “Fuck this. I’m leaving.”

My heart stutters. “What?”

“If you’re gonna keep lying, there’s no fucking point. I’m done.”

“You can’t ride.”

“I’ll manage.”

He heads for the door. Panic claws up my throat. “Walker.” He doesn’t stop. “Judge!” He’s almost gone. Only the truth keeps him here. “My father is Samuel Anderson.”

His hand freezes. The house goes still. He turns, shock plain for the first time. “Tyrant?”

I nod. “That’s my truth.”

Rain hammers the roof while Walker stares like I’m a stranger. Then he quietly closes the door and locks it. Not to trap me. Because neither of us is leaving until every ugly secret is bled out.

He plants both hands on the scarred table, bows his head, shoulders shaking with the effort to keep from losing it. I almost wish he’d rage. Silence is a fucking trap.

When he looks up, his eyes aren’t cold, they’re gutted. “Say it again.”