The dried blood on the kitchen floor blurred in front of me.
I stood there, with the bucket at my feet and the damp rag in my hand, and I just couldnât fucking move. I stared at it like an idiot with the same fucking words resounding in my head. Dadâs deadâ¦dadâs deadâ¦dadâsâ
Thump.
The sound of a car door outside made me flinch. I shifted my focus to the door behind me. But Iâd know the heavy sound of Tobiasâs steps anywhere, even when he was limping.
I didnât turn around when the rattle of keys came, just stood there pinned to the floor by that fucking stain. Tobias stepped in and closed the door behind him. I doubted he even noticed me, I stood that fucking still.
He just walked in with his head down, then noticed I was there. His head snapped up and he stopped moving. One slow turn of his head and he followed my focus to the floor, then muttered. âIâm gonna take a shower.â
I winced at his cold tone, hating how all I wanted to do was meet that dark, savage stare and ask him what the fuck had happened? Was it an accident? Did the gun just fucking go off? The memory of that moment pushed in. The glint of steel still in his hand, one thatâd been aimed at our father. No matter how hard I tried, I couldnât push the memory away.
I wanted to ask him what heâd doneâ¦
No, I wanted to demand to know why the fuck heâd done that.
Why, T?
Why kill himâ¦
But I didnât. Instead, I said nothing as he tossed a set of keys on the counter and limped down the hall. He shoved a hand out as he went, bracing against the wall. I lowered my gaze to the black jeans stuck hard against his thigh. He was hurtâ¦I knew that. Bad, too.
Still, the stubborn bastard refused to ask for help. He just dragged his t-shirt over his head, drawing my focus to the scratches that marred his back. But it wasnât the cuts that made me wince, it was the already darkening bruise across the entire half of his back.
Jesus.
Jesusâ¦
Bang!
I jumped at the slam of the bathroom door. Seconds later, the howl of the water pipes came. What happenedâ¦what the fuck went down? I was desperate to know. Still, knowing wouldnât change the outcome.
I turned back to that stain on the kitchen floor. One thatâd long since dried. I took a step, sank to my knees, and set to work scrubbing, but all the time the question resoundedâ¦
What are we going to do?
What the fuck are we going to doâ¦
I tried to come up with a plan, one that wouldnât get us killed, then rinsed the cloth in the bucket before turning back. The constant motion of the rag on the floor lulled me into thoughts of her.
The last thoughts I had of our sister as she raced toward The Order in an attempt to save one of our own. âGoddamn you, Caleb. We shouldâve stayed together, you fucking idiot. We shouldâve stayed the fuck together.â
I searched the floor for any trace of blood before I wiped the cupboard our father had leaned on and slowly realized the bathroom was silentâ¦and had been for some time.
Water dripped from my hand when I rose. I dumped the contents of the bucket down the sink before scrubbing that with bleach and stowed the chemicals away. But my focus was pulled toward that hallway. Where it was quiet. Too damn quiet.
Something was wrong.
That thought forced me forward, leaving the kitchen behind until I stood outside the bathroom, right across from the bedroom where Ryth had been. I dragged in the air, catching the faint scent of vanilla. Fuck. The place still smelled like her.
That wasnât goodâmy pulse spedâno, that wasnât good at all. Focus. Fucking focus, Nick.
âT,â I said, my voice husky.
But there was no answer. I stepped closer to the bathroom door. âT,â I called louder.
Silence.
The memory of that gun in his hand was stuck in my head as I turned the handle and shoved open the door, finding T sitting on the side of the tub, naked. Water dripped from his body onto the floor.
His leg was bleeding, the bullet wound black and ugly. âJesus, T!â I closed the distance. âWhy the fuck didnât you tell me it was this bad?â
My brother just sat there, staring at the floor, his knees jerking and trembling like he was coming apart. Iâd never seen him like thisâ¦not this badânot ever.
âWe have to get her out, Nick.â He slowly lifted his gaze to mine, and all I saw was a ghost. âWe have to get her out.â
He looked so fragile at that moment, not like a monster at all. He looked like a man pushed to his breaking point, one who was fucking vulnerable. Thatâs what having Ryth in our lives had made usâvulnerable, too vulnerable. That desperation was crushing. âI know, brother,â I answered. âI know.â
But we were running out of people to ask, except for the one person who knew more than anyone. Elle Castlemaine. I stared at that bullet wound in my brotherâs thigh. âWe have to find Elle. Sheâs the one who can get her out of there. We find her, and we get our sister back.â
Tobias lifted his gaze to mine. âAnd C?â
And Câ¦my heart kicked in my chest. I didnât knowâ¦I just didnât fucking know. Was he dead already? If he wasnât, then he soon would be. They didnât need our brother. His life meant nothing to them. It was all Ryth, wasnât it? All fucking Ryth.
âWe do whatever we can to get him back.â I held that dangerous stare. âWhatever we can.â
T shook his head slowly. âSo, we try to find Elle, if they havenât killed her by now.â
I scowled, the way he said it worried me. âWhat are you talking about?â
âSheâs gone, Nick. After what she did, sheâs gone.â
After what she did? Sent her own daughter to that place? âNo,â I answered. âTheyâll need her. Theyâll use her.â
My brotherâs laugh was chilling as he shook his head. âYou donât get it, do you? Sheâs a loose fucking end. One whoâs shown them she canât be trusted, not even by her husband.â
A chill raced through me. âWhat are you talking about?â
âWhat do you think Iâm talking about?â he snarled. âShe killed our fucking father.â
My gut clenched as that cold moved deeper. âShe killed our father?â
But the gun was in his hand, aimed at dad. Iâd seen it for a second as I ran through the trees before heâd lunged toward him. I was sureâ¦I was sureâ
Tobias flinched, his voice stony. âYou think I killed him?â
I searched that stare for the truth, but I was sure, I was so fucking sure. âYes.â
He gave a chuff and looked away. âFigures.â
âYou killed him, T.â I didnât know if I was trying to convince him or myself. Was he lying? Was he trying to pin it on someone else? I knew the hate that brewed between them. I sure as hell understood if heâ
âGet the fuck out, Nick.â Tobias shoved up from the tub, but swayed. He grabbed hold of the sink and dropped his gaze, breathing hard.
My mind raced. âElleâ¦killed dad?â
He jerked that menacing glare my way. âGet the fuck out!â
I stumbled backwards as it finally hit me. âTâ¦Iââ
He lunged and shoved me in the middle of my chest, the force knocking me backwards as the bathroom door slammed closed with a BANG.
I stood there, unable to move. All I saw was that fucking glint in my head, a memory I now tried to pick apart. Was he telling the truth? Was Elle the one whoâd actually killed our dad and all this time Iâd thoughtâ¦Iâd thoughtâ¦Iâ
The door was yanked open and Tobias limped out, still looking fucking pissed. Gone was that vulnerable stare. Gone was that fragile fucking moment. He was the bastard again, the ruthless sonofabitch who could easily have pulled the trigger.
Couldâ¦sure, but would he? I lowered my gaze to the white bandage around his thigh, that was already specked with blood. âT, you need to see a doctor.â
âSave it.â He shoved past me to the bedroom at the end of the hall, the one we were supposed to share, and closed the door behind him.
The clang of steel on steel rang out. My brother was searching for weapons and getting ready for war. I wanted to say something, to make this right. But I couldnât. Not now when he was seething.
I turned around, ready to make my way back to the kitchen, and found myself gravitating to that room instead. The one which smelled like herâ¦
The place was a mess. A fucking desk lamp was smashed on the floor. I took a step closer, finding the indent in the wall where it had hit. No, where sheâd thrown it. I shifted my focus to the ruined bed. The bedding was everywhere, and there was a damp stain on the sheet. I didnât need a fucking blow by blow to know that was our sisterâs.
So that was how Caleb had fixed it. With angry sexâ¦
Of course he did.
I massaged the knotted muscles at the back of my neck and moved closer, running my hand along the crumpled fabric before I sat. Christ, this was a messâ¦one I didnât know how to get out of.
The bedroom door at the far end of the hall opened and the thudding sound of boots rang out. I rose and made my way to the doorway, finding T already locked and fucking loaded, with the duffle bag full of guns in his grasp.
âWhere are you going?â I asked.
He didnât answer, just kept walking.
âT.â
He stopped in the hallway and didnât move. Was he just going to leave? âIâm going to find Elle.â
âWhere?â
He turned, meeting my stare. âThe only place there is.â
Then it hit me. Home. Thatâs where he was goingâ¦he was going home.
I swallowed and nodded, not daring to argue. âIâm coming with you.â
He gave a slow nod of his head. I guess that was as good as I was going to get. I headed for the kitchen, grabbed the gun I had left on the counter, and tucked it into the waistband of my jeans before snatching the keys off the counter. I didnât even dare ask where heâd gotten the car fromâ¦I sure as hell didnât want to know.
One sharp whistle, and Rebel limped our way. She looked at me with so much fucking love, pressing her little body against my leg before I reached down and ruffled her black ears. âLetâs go, girl.â
T limped hard as he strode through the door, and I followed, wincing at the sun. A gray Toyota sat parked in the driveway with the windows down. There was a smear of blood on the outside of the driverâs door, fresh too, by the looks of it.
âDonât ask.â
I held up my hand. âWasnât saying a word.â
He kept walking, heading to the trunk. I yanked open the driverâs door and pulled the lever until the latch released. A thud, then he was climbing into the passenger seat. I took that as a sign, at least he wasnât going to kill meâ¦yet.
Rebel jumped up into the seat and awkwardly leaped into the back. She was a damn smart dog and a damn fighter. Sheâd had to be. I climbed in, started the engine, and reversed.
âMaybe we donât take Center and Grange,â Tobias muttered, closing his eyes and resting his head back. âIâm sure theyâll be looking for me.â
âIâm sure they will,â I agreed, knowing instantly who âtheyâ were.
The assholes heâd stolen the car from. Who were probably out for blood.
I stayed away from those streets, instead headed west and made our way to the more affluent suburbs with lush green gardens and their fake fucking smiles. Forty minutes was all it took to replace one shitshow with another. I pulled into the driveway and parked where I always parked, like our entire fucking world hadnât been ripped apart.
I climbed out, leaving T behind me, and made my way to the keypad beside the front door. The place echoed when I stepped in. It was cold now, and hollow. There was no breath of fresh air that our little sister had brought with her when she invaded our home. No excitement at the prospect of teasing and tasting her, either.
My pulse sped as T followed me inside and closed the door.
âIâll take the study,â he muttered, striding off and leaving me behind.
I couldâve told him that searching there was useless. Weâd already tossed the place from top to bottom searching for information about dad. But my brother didnât listen, just limped away, his hand fisted at his side.
âFine,â I mumbled, and turned toward the kitchen. âYou want to be pissed off, then be pissed off.â
My belly howled as though it sensed exactly where I was headed. I yanked open the refrigerator door, pulling out whatever I could find as a heavy thud came from the study.
He wanted to be pissed, then let him be pissed. He still needed to damn well heal.
I slathered bread with butter, then added ham, cheese, and mayo before biting down on one, then I turned back and made two more before shoving them both in a snap-lock bag and tossing them on the counter.
Each step was agony as I climbed the stairs, pressing against the wound in my side. I was pretty sure Iâd ripped something last night, charging after Ryth. The sharp pain was constant, a fucking stabbing ache. Still, Iâd manage, because I wasnât as bad as T.
My focus gravitated upwards to the top floor we shared with our sister, but I didnât want to go thereâ¦not now. Instead, I turned and made my way to the bedroom Elle had shared with my father. If she was going to keep any kind of hidden documents, itâd be there.
I turned the handle and pushed open the door before stepping inside. It felt weird walking in. I still expected to see momâs things lined up along the dresser and smell the faint floral scent of her perfume. Not thisâ¦
Sure as hell not thisâ¦
The room wasnât neat and perfect, it was a damn collision. Clothes were strewn over the floor, the dresser with all her jewelry was sideways across the room as though itâd been dragged over and upended. I kicked an open suitcase still packed with half of her thingsâ¦designer clothes, shoes, gold necklaces that mustâve cost dad a fortune. It was easy to see where her things wentâ¦
But she didnât take them, did she?
She was in a damn hurry to leave, that was obvious. If sheâd left all this behind, then maybe sheâd left other things as well. I bent and upended the suitcase, scattering her diamond earrings and rings to the floor before I searched through them.
But there was nothing but clothes and jewelry and my focus shifted to the walk-in closet. Even from here, I could see bags waiting in the corners of the wardrobe. I rose and moved toward them, brushing my hand along the clothes still hanging before searching the pockets.
I wanted information.
Thatâs all.
Clothes. Shoes. I pulled them all down, moving through each of them one by one until I found a small black satin clutch hidden way in the back. One that was heavier than it should be.
I twisted the clasp, to find a small leather-bound notebook inside. âWhat is this?â
The clutch hit the floor at my feet as I opened the handwritten pages and started readingâ¦
Watching her with her friends, I could almost forget how she came to be, what she represents, and her purpose in all this. But her innocence will be the very thing that makes her perfect for them. As much as I hate thinking about it, I need that more now than ever. I need her innocent and perfect. I need her because Iâm backed into a corner, and Iâm holding her out in front of me, hoping theyâll take her instead.
Because I cannot go back there.
Not to what they are.
Or what they do.
Jack tells me he loves me. He says heâll protect me and heâll keep us both safe. But I donât know what safe is anymore, maybe I never did. He looks at me like Ryth does, they want more than I can give. My soulâ¦my heart. I canât love themâ¦and right now Iâm too fucking weak to run.
I stopped reading as a steady thud of steps came behind me. My heart hammered. My mouth went dry.
âFind anything?â T asked from the doorway.
At first, I couldnât speak. I couldnât do anything but stare at that desperate scrawl, the one where a mother tried to convince herself she wasnât the biggest monster of all. I swallowed, then just lifted the diary.
My brother took it without speaking and started to read.
âWhat the fuck?â he said finally.
I nodded, meeting his stare. âWhat the fuck indeed.â
âShe fucking used her? She was goddamn collateral. No, not collateral. She was fucking bait, Nick. She was goddamn bait.â Tâs words carved through my middle. Still, he kept talking as I tried to hold on. âWhat does she mean by monsterâs blood in her veins?â
I slowly shook my head. âI wish I knew.â
What I did know was that Jack Castlemaine wasnât Rythâs father, and if he wasnât, then who the fuck was?
âThis changes everything.â Tobias handed the diary back to me. âTrafficking is one thing, but what sheâs talking about here is some kind of breeding program.â
âI know.â
âThis is bad, Nick.â Fuck, he looked scared. âThis is real fucking bad, and weâve run out of options.â
âI know.â I stared at the journal in my hand as that crushing weight grew heavier. âWeâll figure out something, okay? I donât know what, but weâll figure it out.â
The moment I said that, my phone vibrated in my pocket. This was a number that was new, one that no one should haveâ¦so who the hell was calling?
I pulled it out and stared at the caller ID. Private. Goosebumps raced up my arm as I hit the icon, answering the call. âYeah?â
âNicholas Banks?â The unfamiliar voice on the other end was careful.
I glanced at my brother. âWhoâs asking?â
âThis is Jack Castlemaine. I hear youâre trying to save my daughterâ¦I want to help.â