Lox's POV...

"Sir? Do you need anything to drink or eat?"

The flight attendant looks concerned for me. Hell, I'm concerned for me too.

There's no way I'm using my stuttering voice, so I type my response and allow my text-to-read app speak for me.

"No thank you. Do you know how much longer this flight is?"

"We should be landing in an hour. Let me know if you change your mind, or need anything at all."

She's a kind lady. She's already had to help me board the plane when my leg decided not to move on it's own. I've been using my speech app, so she thinks I'm half paralyzed and mute. I've never been on a plane before and this isn't how I imagined my first time or intended destination.

Finding where my father's spending the rest of his miserable life wasn't difficult. You type his name on a search engine and anyone can find articles of his crimes, what maximum security prison he's been committed to, and why.

I'd like to know what my mother was thinking when she got together with him. Maybe she wasn't in her right mind back then either and it got worse as the years went on. Doubt if I'll ever really know.

It kills me to do this to Greya, but I have no choice. I'm not asking Liam to go into hiding again and I'm not putting Greya or Chase or anyone else at risk while my father is alive and looking for me. If she knew my intended plan, she'd never have let me do this.

He knows who I am. The night I was shot, he figured it out. I knew it too, as soon as I saw the tall, tatted stranger with dark hair swinging his gun around and locking eyes with mine while my brother and mother were tied to chairs in our living room. His eyes bore the exact same unique and bright blue green color as mine, I connected the dots and so did he. He stared at me for a good minute, his face a mix of confusion and recollection. In that heated moment, I was the son he never knew he had. My brother sat there trembling and crying with his eyes shut. My mother quietly glanced at all of us with pure horror. Both of the men she ran from had found her. Jack's behavior was all anger and hatred, while the man who's eyes I shared only focused on me. He saw opportunity in front of him. I was convinced he was about to kill everyone in the room except for me. He wanted me. Jack thought he wanted my mother and turned his gun on her out of spite, thinking neither of them were having her. I wasn't going to let either of them kill my mother so I threw myself in front of her. Jack made an impulsive mistake pulling the trigger, it was only me the man wanted as soon as he realized I was his.

I wanted to talk with Greya and tell her about everything  I remembered, but couldn't. The truth is, I was scared. I still am. Re- living that night took me by surprise. I've been sick to my stomach since the last biofeedback. I can't eat or sleep and I'm trying not to have any seizures if I can help it. This type of stress causes all kinds of side effects to my body now that didn't occur before the shooting. I thought I was doing well lately, especially my speech and I'm embarrassed by how much I'm stuttering again. I'm fighting against panic attacks every other minute and my paralyzed side isn't helping me in any way. I've been a complete mess since Friday. Greya's been my only strength the last few days. Being near her was the only way I could breathe.

I'm petrified of my father knowing where I am and hurting Greya to get to me. I just got her back and there's no way I'd survive without her again. This is why I needed to leave so I could face my father and ask him to leave me alone and hopefully forget about me and my mother. I know its a long shot, but I need to face him.

Almost three hours to Seattle and only an hour to go, thank God. I've never focused on my calm breathing techniques more than I am right now. If I were to have a seizure on this plane, my plans would be ruined.

My grandfather lives in a wealthy area on the outskirts of the city, and if I survive the visit with my father, I'm planning to meet the only family member other than Liam who's cared and supported me all these years. I can thank him and maybe get more answers from him.

"Sir, I've brought you a ginger ale. You'll feel better drinking some."

I look to the nice lady and reach out my shaky hand to grab the soda from her. She watches me trying not to spill it everywhere and offers me a straw. She places it in my sofa can and kindly smiles at me. My left arm is pinned across my chest and my fist clenched. She must think I'm crazy to travel alone. Actually, she's right. I need Greya here with me. She always knows what to do. Right now she'd be performing her magic on my cramped arm while also telling me this is the stupidest idea I've ever had.

She's not here though, and that's my fault. All I can do is try to stay calm and massage the pressure points in my arm the way Greya does and hope it helps. I can't face my father looking like this.

Finally the plane lands and the flight attendant is already by my side ready to help me. Accepting her help would only prove how weak I am in this broken body and the exact way my father will see me as. That's not happening. I came her for a reason and If that means dragging my leg to get there, so be it.

I thank her for her kindness, throw my backpack over my shoulders and slowly make my way out to the Uber I just ordered to pick me up.

Calming my body enough for it to appear semi-normal is proving to be impossible as the car approaches the maximum security prison. This was a bad idea.

My driver drops me at the visitor's entrance and I'm about to ask him to take me back to the airport. I can't do this. Look at me. How did I ever think my criminal father would take me seriously.

I realize I'm staring at the entrance door for longer than I should. I came here for Greya, for her safety and everyone else's. Walking through this door is a must.

"State your name please."

Bare white walls and floors, security bars and locked doors. Guards everywhere.

"Your name?" The security guard asks again.

Shit! I didn't think about what name I'd use. Using Becker would be too risky. I can't trust anyone else here to know who I really was.

"Um, L...Loxley M...Madden." The security guard gives me a funny look, but notices my arm and my crutch and realizes I'm disabled.

He nods, asks me to write my name in the visitor's log along with the name of the person I'm visiting. After he reads it, he gives me another funny look then says something to the guard next to him, who also gives me a look over.

"Have a seat over there. When we have him secured, we'll come get you."

When they have him secured? That doesn't make me feel any better.

Twenty torturous minutes later, I'm escorted to a secure room.

As soon as I limp through the door, my father's familiar blue eyes widely take me in. He recognizes me, and I'm practically frozen in place. Fear, Anger, Hate all consume me at once as I watch him watching me. Besides his eyes, he's mostly unrecognizable to me from the last time I saw him. He's completely bald, black ink designs cover his head, neck and arms. He's paper thin and his skin is so pale, the walls and floor appear to have more color. I was told he was sick, but he's already on his death bed.

I take a deep breath and make my way over to the metal chair that sits across the table from him. The smirk on his face while he examines me, makes me want to jump over the table and strangle him. Not yet though, I'm here for answers.

"My long-lost son. To what do I have this pleasure?"

The sound of his voice has me cringe. We have a metal table separating us and his wrists and legs are bound by shackles that I'm surprised are small enough for his frail limbs. My crippled ass would have no problem breaking him in half.

Suddenly, I'm not sure what to say or ask him.

"Your adopted father really did a number on you. I knew you survived, but damn."

"Why w..were y...you there? Why did y...you look for m...my mother all those y...years? Y...you couldn't just leave h...her alone?" I found my voice and I have so many questions and this damn stutter isn't doing me any good.

His evil smile tells me he's amused and honestly, I don't care if he sees me as, whatever he sees me as.

"Your mother promised to marry me, but instead, she took off with my unborn child."

"Y...you knew about m...me?"

He laughs then begins coughing and wipes his bloody sputum with his shirt sleeve.

"I'll hand it to her, she kept you hidden from me for a long time. Your washed-up father found her for me. He actually wanted her back as much as I did, the fool he was. He led me right to her and to you. You were my child and she had no right keeping you away from me."

"So it w...was me y...you w...were looking f...for the entire time?"

I was right, he would've killed everyone that night to have me.

"I loved your mother. She wanted me to change and maybe I would've if she didn't hide my only son, my legacy." He begins coughing again.

I'm having a difficult time believing him, although he's being surprisingly open with me.

"What do y...you w...want with me? Have y...you been trying to find m...me since?"

His laugh sounds like he's been smoking ten packs a day his whole life.

"What do you think I want with you?"

He's asking me? That's why I'm here. I don't answer, I only sit back in my chair and look at him.

"You were heir to my thrown. I would've taught you everything. You would've been king, had everything, run everything."

I'm confused.

"And n...now?"

"Ha! Look at you! My only son, a brain injured cripple who can't talk right. Maybe before, but not now. I turned my business over to someone else. No one knows I have a son. I don't want anything with you."

There he is. This is what I expected from this man. The words don't hurt coming from him, they only cause anger.

"Y...you did this to m..me. Y...you drove my mother m...mad. Y...you ruined m...my life!"

"Your whore of a mother is to blame."

"She w...was protecting m...me from a criminal."

"I am your father," he growls.

"Y...you don't need m...me, so don't look f...for m...me, or my mother. Leave us a...alone."

"I have no need to waste my energy on you or your mother. I have weeks left of my life, if that. You're incapable of taking over for me any way. If people knew I had a son like you, I would've been vulnerable. I'm going out on top." He shakes his head and chuckles to himself. "Unfortunate how everything turned out, isn't it."

I can add relief to the stockpile of emotions rushing through me. He no longer needs me or will look for me. That's what I wanted to hear from his deranged mouth.

I'm done here. I grab my crutch and stand up from my chair, taking one last look at the man who's DNA I share but nothing else.

"Bye son. Thank you for the visit,' he smiles. Half his teeth are black or missing.

Suddenly, I feel sick again and lightheaded. Fuck! Not now, not here.

"Guard!" Is the last word I'll ever hear from this man.