But the question still hung there between them like a bad smell nobody wanted to acknowledge first.
What did they actually know about Phei besides the rags-to-riches-to-apocalypse arc? Charity-case-turned-urban-deity was a cute tagline for the obituary, but it didn't explain shit.
"Apart from Melissa," Maddie said, drawing the words out like she was pulling taffy, "we don't know a single other soul from his family tree."
"Or his name before Maxton got stapled onto it like a price tag," Sierra added. "What was it again?"
Three pairs of eyes swiveled to Delilah.
She shifted on the log bench, suddenly aware it was digging splinters into her ass and that the discomfort was probably karmic. This was her family's garbage fire, after all—Maxtons, marriages, dead uncles, mystery nephews, the whole incest-adjacent soap opera.
"Ryujin Tiamat," she said, barely above a whisper. "Birth certificate says Tiamat. Phei Ryujin Tiamat."
Sierra tilted her head. "And the father?"
