The day arrived when Fender returned to the camp.
He came at sunset.
The double doors to the perimeter opened so he could enter on horseback, four guys flanking either side of him, guns hidden under their clothes to protect him from an unexpected ambush.
I walked down the steps of the main cabin to the grass then waited for his approach.
When he came closer, I realized Melanie sat behind him on the horse.
I was surprised he’d brought her.
She must have convinced him to, in the hope of seeing her sister.
Fender stopped, and instead of getting off the horse first, he took Melanie’s hand and helped her down, his entire focus on getting her to the ground safely.
Her curled hair was pulled back, she wore heavy makeup, and she was in skintight jeans, knee-high flat boots, and an olive-green t-shirt. Diamonds were in her lobes, she wore an expensive necklace, and she looked like French royalty even when she was dressed casually. She pulled off her riding gloves.
Fender came next, landing on the ground and handing the reins to one of the horse masters. When the other guards realized the boss had entered the camp, they came out of the communal cabin to look at him.
I pushed my hood down to look at him.
Fender walked over to me, Melanie staying slightly behind him. His brown eyes were locked on to mine, and he looked at me the way he used to, like we were brothers. My crimes seemed to fade more and more with every passing week as our profits soared. In his eyes, I’d made up for my stupidity, and I’d suffered enough for it.
He stopped in front of me in a gray t-shirt that fit his muscled frame tightly. A shadow was on his jawline because the hair never went away, no matter how often we shaved it. It was there by the evening. We were the same height, so his stare could pierce right into me. “Brother.”
I gave no reaction, but the affectionate term affected me deep down to my core. It was in front of this cabin where he’d mutilated me with a knife, but I understood that it was just business, that it was the only way to keep me alive. It was no different from when I whipped Raven until she collapsed. “Brother.”
He extended his hand to me.
I paused before I took it, my hand gripping the inside of his elbow, just as he did to me. Then he brought me in, giving me a quick embrace with a pat on the back. I did the same before I stepped back.
All the guards saw.
I nodded to the cabin and stepped aside so he could walk inside.
He moved up the stairs and through the door.
Melanie came to me next, her blue eyes identical to her sister’s. She looked at me affectionately, like she wanted to convey her gratitude for not ratting her out. But she couldn’t speak, so she touched me subtly on the arm and kept going.
I’d thought I was loyal to my brother, but now I wasn’t so sure where my loyalties lay.
I walked in behind them and shut the door.
There was a large dining table against the wall and a seating area with two couches facing each other. Melanie took a seat on the couch, sitting straight with her knees together, a woman so beautiful and elegant, it was hard to believe she’d ever been a prisoner here. A life of fine things had turned her classy, making her appear like a member of the aristocracy. Her hands moved to her thighs, and she sat there quietly.
I sat on the other couch and didn’t look at her.
Fender went to the cabinets and poured the drinks. He made himself a scotch, while retrieving a bottle of water for Melanie.
My eyes moved back to her face, seeing an ocean of emotions. There was relief, guilt, anxiety…but no fear. If she was pretending to feel affection toward Fender, she wasn’t just fooling him but also me. She went back to him to save her sister, but maybe she did it for herself too.
Her hair was a shade lighter than her sister’s, and she had high cheeks and full lips. Their similarities were noticeable. There was no denying she was a woman of exceptional beauty, but there was something inherently boring to her appearance…at least to me. She was a simple woman with simple thoughts…blandly unremarkable. When I looked at Raven, I saw a complex woman with a fire that never burned lower than an inferno. She was intelligent, resourceful, resilient…fearless. Like she was a priceless work of art, I could stare at her forever and always find something new to admire.
Fender sat on the couch beside Melanie and handed her the water bottle.
“Thank you.” She twisted off the cap and took a drink.