The same way they ripped out our hearts eight years ago.
Shiloh doesn’t get it. Even as close as we are, as many times as she’s heard the stories, she doesn’t fucking get it. How could she? She’s not from Sabine Valley. She didn’t wake up in the middle of the night to the scent of smoke on the air. She wasn’t forced to flee a burning building that left forty of our people dead. It was sheer luck that none of my brothers were among them. She didn’t become an orphan that night.
My father was a monster. I was more than old enough at twenty-seven to understand just how fucked he was when it came to running the Raider faction. But he wouldn’t have run it forever, and Abel is not the same kind of monster. No matter what pieces of himself he carved away over the last eight years to keep us and our people protected, he has more than proven he’s fit to lead the Raider faction in the past three weeks.
Things are working out exactly like they’re supposed to. So why the fuck can’t I get my head on straight? Why can’t I escape the feeling of a sword hanging over our heads, just waiting until the right moment to fall and sever us from the world of the living?
I can barely stand to be inside my own head. Desperate to talk to someone with the slightest bit of sanity, I seek out my brother Ezekiel. He won’t have softened on our main goal. Not when the betrayal he experienced was so damn personal.
When we were driven out of the city, Ezekiel was one of a trio of friends who represented the hope for the future. A Raider, a Mystic, and an Amazon. I’m still not sure how they met, but they were constantly together through most of our childhood. I think Ezekiel expected them to come for him after the exile. It was the first time they were separated since they were little.
They…didn’t.
When we were doing our research and planning for our return, we discovered that Jasper and Beatrix were dating. Not only had they moved on from the loss of Ezekiel, but they moved on together. When he found that out, my brother went quiet in a way that worries me. He hasn’t been the same since.
He insisted on Jasper as his Bride, and Abel allowed it. I don’t think anyone expected Beatrix to show up, too.
I make my way down to the second floor and knock on Ezekiel’s door. He doesn’t make me wait long, but when he opens it, all I can do is stare. He’s shirtless, his lean body covered in scratches. That’s not what shocks me. No, it’s the fact that he has both Beatrix and Jasper handcuffed to his bed, wearing nothing but underwear. Ezekiel leans against the doorjamb as if that is not a huge fucking red flag. “Need something?”
“Zeke?” His childhood nickname pops out of my mouth. “What the hell is happening here?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I really wish that were an option. Hell, I wish that the only reason I cared was because of the potential fallout of having the Amazon queen’s younger brother and the leader of the Mystic’s younger sister cuffed. The truth is that it doesn’t matter who they are. This isn’t okay.
Ezekiel used to be a nice kid. Sweet, even. The kind of innocent that even Gabriel never quite accomplished. All that changed with the exile. The past eight years, he’s gotten colder and colder, until he rivals Cohen for being the most monstrous of us.
This is too far, even for him. This is too far for anyone.
I shake my head slowly. “You know I have to worry about it.” Abel oversees everything. Cohen runs our soldiers. I’m in charge of the household. “Move out of the way.”
Ezekiel lifts a brow and moves back. “By all means, please play the hero for these two. Your concern isn’t required.” He lifts his voice. “Do you want me to release you, Beatrix?”
She glares daggers at the back of his head. “No.”
“Jasper?”
Jasper’s look isn’t filled with violence, but he doesn’t look particularly pleased, either. “No. We’re fine.”
I really wish I could believe them. I move past my brother and take in the rest of the room. There are the remnants of a destroyed chair on the floor, and one of the paintings has fallen off the wall. Or been knocked off, more likely. On the large bed, Beatrix and Jasper are side by side, their wrists cuffed to the headboard with padded bondage gear. It’s designed not to damage the skin, though I haven’t had reason to use it myself.
They both have a scattering of bruises, and Jasper has a set of scratches to match Ezekiel’s. I meet both their gazes in turn. “Leave the room, Ezekiel.”