Adam's shoulders tensed, mouth flattening. Ronan's fury didn't scare him--never had, since it had always been a fact as sure as sunrise that Ronan was never angry at him.

He didn't like telling tales, didn't like surrendering secrets, didn't like revealing weakness.

"My father hit me," Adam confessed, voice dull and flat. He stared at the opposite wall, not wanting to see Ronan's reaction. "I fell, and tumbled down some stairs."

Those instants were burned in his memory. The pain, the betrayal, the certainty that this was his own fault for not doing better, for not leaving sooner, for being so damned unlucky.