Sweet Salvation (Ruthless Games 3)

There’s a chair set against one wall, and I walk over and sink into it, still gazing at my brother. The men all settle in around me, leaning against the wall or lounging in the doorframe.

Minutes tick by slowly, and my eyelids droop a few times. I keep expecting the men to leave, to go take care of the business I know must be waiting for them. But they don’t. Each one of them stays right where they are, alert and silent.

I know they’re not keeping vigil over my brother.

They’re keeping vigil over me.

The sun is almost up by the time Caleb’s eyes blink slowly open. I’ve completely lost track of the days and hours by now. Everything since the party has been so disjointed and chaotic that sunrise and sunset seem like arbitrary markers.

A new day is starting, but it feels like the end of a long one. I think I could sleep for a week.

Caleb’s dark lashes flutter a little as he blinks again. His eyes slowly focus, first on the ceiling above him and then on the room around him.

My stomach balls itself up into a tight knot. I don’t know if he’ll remember what I said last night, and I can’t decide if I hope he does or doesn’t. Maybe I should still try to sweep this all under the rug, to forget about what I know and just let us each go our own separate—

“LaLa?”

My brother’s voice is groggy and soft, but there’s no mistaking what he says.

I freeze, my hand gripping the arm of the chair tightly as my muscles tense, my entire body going into some kind of weird fight-or-flight mode.

“Caleb?”

The word scratches out of my throat, as dazed and quiet sounding as his use of my old nickname. I drag my gaze up to meet his, and I’m shocked at the raw pain that splits his face.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck. LaLa? You’re…?”

He shifts on the bed like he’s going to sit up, but he obviously can’t manage it. He’s got an IV hooked up to his arm, and he groans softly as he settles back onto the pillow. Looking back up at the ceiling, he blinks several times, tears sliding out from the corners of his eyes.

My own eyes burn, and I clench my jaw, fighting down the wild surge of emotions.

None of my men leave, but they all stay still and silent, letting this play out between us without interference. I’m glad as hell that they’re here. I don’t think I could face this on my own.

“I…” Caleb shakes his head. “I kidnapped you. I could’ve killed you. And I never would’ve known.”

“Would it have been okay if I wasn’t your sister?” I shoot back, and Caleb lets out a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“No.”

“Glad we’re agreed on that.”

His eyes open again, and he tilts his head toward me, his blue eyes bloodshot. “How did you find out?”

The fidgety feeling inside me intensifies. Despite all the time I spent looking for him, despite my desperate drive to find my brother, I’m not good at… being his sister. I don’t even feel like I know what that means right now.

But I answer his question, holding his gaze as I do. “I looked for you for a long time. I had an old picture of us from when we were little. But it was all I had.” I grimace. “Now that I know who adopted you, it makes so much fucking sense. They must’ve buried the records of you, paid people off to destroy them. They didn’t want anyone to know you weren’t their natural born son.”

“I hate them.”

He says the words dully, as if the emotion hasn’t had time to truly settle in and take root yet. Or maybe it’s buried itself so deep in his soul that all he can feel is the aching throb of it.

“Yeah, me too.” I nod, because that’s at least one thing we can agree on right now. The rest of our relationship, whatever amount of one we may eventually be able to salvage, will take time to develop.

But at least we can unite in our shared rage against the people who stole him away from me. Who stole us from each other.

“The stuffed animal you had,” I say quietly when he doesn’t speak for a moment. “The one you said your mom burned. Was it an elephant?”

His brows draw together in surprise. “Yeah. It was. It was all beat up, but I loved it.”