Chapter 12: VIII

— QUENTIN —

"It doesn't make a difference whether i'm seven minutes older than you or seven years older than you, you do as i say. You hear me?"

"Get a grip, Seamus. You have no power over me."

Walking into one of the many rooms in Lindsay's home, i immediately recognise the sound of my siblings bickering.

Rori leans into Christian — clearly unable to stand on her own — and my brother stands in front of them, a scolding finger pointed at my sister.

"Relax, Man, she's unstable right now," Christian placates. "Literally."

"That's the point, Chris. I told her and Anna to stick together. I told her not to drink too much. You know what she's like."

My sister releases a humourless laugh and attempts to wriggle out of Christian's hold, which results in the opposite outcome when his grip on her tightens.

"She could've been seriously hurt," Seamus continues, jaw clenched as he shakes his head in frustration. "I'm gonna kill Dylan, if it's the last thing i do. I swear to God."

I approach the three of them, Mikey in tow, and only then do they acknowledge our presence.

"Quenny!" Rori squeals, finally breaking free from Christian's vice grip, as she flings herself at me with open arms.

"Gesù!" i blurt out, gasping for air as her arms wrap around my torso in a tight hug.

"I missed you so much!" she beams, her hazel eyes searching mine. "Did you guys miss me?"

"Of course we did," Mikey cheerily answers, sparing me an amused, yet apologetic, glance.

Seamus rolls his eyes, shaking his head at me.

"Lei è un pezzo di merda!" he snarls. "Prova a trattare con lei per una volta."

"Seamus!"

From my peripheral vision, i see Mikey turn to Christian with a shell-shocked expression. The latter simply shakes his head in such a way that states 'This happens more often than not.'

"No, Quentin, i'm not kidding. I'm sick of her disregarding everything i say; putting herself in danger like that. It's selfish!"

"Calm down, Seamus," i order him, with a meaningful glare.

My brother nods, forcing himself to take in a breath as his gaze shifts to our sister once more, eyes softening when he acknowledges her bewildered state.

"What did she do?" i ask him after a moment's silence.

He sighs, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

"When we walked in, we found Dylan Sanders encouraging her to climb onto the rooftop. Apparently, she really is that stupid that she'd risk dying to complete a dare."

"Where is he?" i growl.

"I let Jason take care of him for now," he says, almost regretfully.

"For now," Christian repeats, as if the words provided consolation.

"Are you guys mad at me?"

I look down at Rori, who looks up at me with wide eyes, a sympathetic smile on my face.

Her hair is roughed up, the make up on her face smeared.

For once, i may not be disappointed if my brother does actually murder Dylan Sanders.

"Yes," Seamus replies, at the same time as i mutter "No."

I shoot him a pointed look.

"No, Ria. We're not mad at you," i reassure her with a soft voice, attempting to untangle the knots in her hair. "Do you know where Annalise ran off to?"

She shakes her head no, causing Seamus to scoff.

"Remind me to kill her as-well," he snarls. "This was her bright idea, remember? 'Make Rori go to the party, Seamus. It'll be good for her,'" he mimics. "Oh, yeah, thanks Anna. Look where that got us!"

Rori begins to writhe in my embrace, and i gently push her away.

"You okay, Ri?"

"Gonna puke," she mumbles, attempting to stumble out of the room.

I quickly guide her to the nearest bathroom, which, thankfully, is only a few feet away, and she begins throwing up immediately.

I grimace, holding her hair back, and turn to face the doorway, which is filled by the large forms of Christian and Mikey.

"Is she okay?" Mikey asks, a sorry look on his face.

"She will be." i sigh, gently rubbing her back as she vomits without rest. "Did you eat at all, Rori?" i ask my sister, who wordlessly nods in response.

"A— y—yeah. A little bit," she replies between breaths.

I turn to my friends with a knowing expression. A 'little bit' does not suffice, though at least she's emptying her body of its toxins.

"Seamus is gonna ask Teddy to pick you guys up," Christian says, and i nod in acknowledgement. "I'll go get her some water."

Mikey steps into the bathroom as soon as Christian leaves. Plucking pieces of toilet paper, he begins wiping off the remnants of vomit from Rori's face.

This is going to be a long night.

— RORI —

I wake at approximately nine am, blankets and pillows draped across my body in a disorderly fashion.

The first thing i take note of is the pounding sensation in my head, my hand massaging it on instinct though it does nothing to relieve the pain.

I then become aware of the extreme dryness in my throat and the drowsiness of my limbs as i struggle to sit upright.

Please tell me i'm not—

"Hungover?" a voice startles me. "That would be correct."

My head snaps towards the end of my bed, as i acknowledge Wyatt lazily strumming the tune of our most cherished song on his acoustic guitar.

'Tightrope' by The Stone Roses was the first song he ever learned to play, at just eight years old, when i was a baby. The band wasn't really known in Russia, but it was the only song downloaded on his second-hand MP3 player.

Xavi had begun teaching him and Vinnie how to play the guitar, and Wyatt insisted on perfecting that specific song so that he could sing it to me.

He wasn't necessarily the most talented musician in our family but i was definitely his biggest fan.

I still am.

"W—water?"

"To your right."

I grab the bottle of water from my bedside table, flashing my brother a grateful smile, despite the fact it does nothing to rehydrate me.

"Thank you," i say, with a sigh of relief.

"You're most welcome," my brother replies, with a smile of his own.

"Please don't tell anyone," i blurt out.

His smile morphs into a knowing smirk.

"Tell them what?" he feigns confusion.

"That i went out last night."

He laughs.

"Oh, Ri. The evidence is as clear as day...You might want to fix that before you join us for breakfast."

I release a groan, flopping back onto my pillows.

"Why can't you just bring breakfast to me?" i exaggeratingly whine.

"Because, our brothers are expecting you," he taunts in a sing-song voice. "C'mon, you best get up before Xavi finds you."

Begrudgingly, i do as i am told for once, and, by the time i have showered and gotten ready for the day, my hangover symptoms have lessened ever so slightly.

Not much can be heard as i walk down the stairs, which is unusual when one lives in a house alongside seven other people.

But when i enter the kitchen and spot Yakov, my suspicions immediately fade.

I ignore the seven pairs of eyes looking in my direction, as i unceremoniously slump myself into the nearest seat, ordering Wyatt to make me some toast.

He clears his throat, and i mumble an irritated 'please', soon lifting my head from the table when i sense someone's piercing glare.

"You must mind your manners, Rori," my second eldest brother chastises. "Hungover, or not."

My mouth falls agape as i stare at him with a mixture of awe-shock and resentment.

"How do you—"

"Quentin was rather indiscreet."

I grab an orange from the fruit-bowl without thinking, chucking it in the direction of my youngest brother.

He yelps.

"Ow, Rori!"

A few seconds later, i feel the same orange hitting my cheek and turn to glare at Seamus who snickers.

"Children!"

Yakov faces us with a harsh, reprimanding glare; meanwhile, everyone else in the room attempts to stifle their laughter.

His use of 'children' instantly takes me back five years, and i feel a frown forming on my lips.

"We're not children," Seamus shoots back.

"You just threw an orange at one another," Vinnie ever-so-kindly chimes in. "Seems pretty childish to me."

"You still watch cartoons...seems pretty childish to me," i mimic his voice, causing my youngest brothers to laugh.

From across the table, i notice Yakov sighing into the palm of his hand.

Seriously?

It's been nine days since he arrived and he already appears sick of us.

"Would you care to apologise, Seamus, Rori?" Yakov addresses us, his tone suggesting that it is not a question but rather a demand.

"Nope," we respond at once.

"You must know that violence is never the answer," he continues, causing everyone to laugh.

"Says a literal gang lord." Uvaldo snorts. "Yakov, why are you trying to parent them right now?"

"Because i am the eldest in the room and i do not appreciate their careless attitude," he swiftly answers. "Your fifteen year old brothers and sister were at a party last night and it's clear no one knew about it, nor do any of you seem to care," he continues without hesitation. "Did Xavi really raise you to be so...reckless?"

Six pairs of eyes narrow in Yakov's direction, as we glare at him with scrutiny.

Who does he think he is?

Welcoming himself into our home is one thing...but to order us around and question our upbringing, despite the fact he had little involvement in it...he simply has no right.

But before any of us can say anything, the sound of dress-shoes clinking against floorboards can be heard from the other room; Zephaniah and Xavi come into view as they communicate in argumentative murmurs.

"We're going out for dinner tonight, to Fresco dal Forno," Xavi declares. "Dress appropriately."

I exchange a confused look with Seamus.

We're not used to eating out very often; the eight of us, that is. Never mind with Zephaniah and Yakov.

"What's the occasion?" Vinnie asks, eyeing our brothers with suspicion.

"I wasn't aware we required one." Zephaniah shrugs, with a quirk of his eyebrow.

I watch as my eldest brother walks towards the kitchen cabinets, busying himself by making an espresso.

Unknowingly, a frown forms on my face as my staring becomes glaring.

Right as Zephaniah turns around, his eyes find mine and he greets me with a wink.

My frown only deepens as i think about how casual both he and Yakov are acting.

Sitting with us for breakfast.

Making themselves espressos.

I do not care if Zephaniah owns this house on paper: he is nothing but a rude and unwanted guest.

And, as if sensing my discontent, he speaks up.

"Will someone make sure this machine is fully stocked at all times?" he demands, rather than asks. "That, and your alcohol supply."

I clear my throat to avoid growling at him like a rabid animal, and his eyes momentarily flicker to mine again, amusement evident in his expression.

"Surely they have staff who deal with such tasks?" Yakov glances at him, before turning to address Xavi. "You do have staff, don't you?"

"And why would we need staff when there are already eight pairs of hands?" my guardian responds in a displeased tone of voice.

Yakov scrunches his face in shameless scrutiny and i shake my head at his pretentiousness.

As i am distracted, Seamus swipes a piece of uneaten toast from my plate and begins to aggressively chew on it.

I reach over to slap him and he kicks the leg of my chair, causing me to fall back into my seat.

Teddy snickers from beside me, which i choose to ignore.

"Pig," i mouth to my twin, before placing my head against the table once more.

"Lift your head up, Rori," Xavi scolds me, receiving only a muffled groan in response. "Seriously, what's with her?"

— SUCKER PUNCH —

Upon entering Fresco dal Forno, Yakov informed me that our older brother was one of the investors who helped bring the chain to the West Coast.

And, for some reason, this angered me more than it should've...possibly because i now know Zephaniah was an investor of my favourite Italian restaurant in the whole of the United States.

Seriously. What are the chances?

Yakov also stated that the restaurant was founded by the family of a friend of our brother, which took me an embarrassing amount of time to understand.

It has never once occurred to me that Zephaniah has any friends. Besides Alfonso, that is. And i know the restaurant does not belong to his family; otherwise, Yakov would've told me so.

But, even still, i doubt that Zephaniah is much of a friend to Alfonso. My brother has no likeable qualities whatsoever.

And i think it goes without saying, commitment is not his strong suit.

If anyone were to be considered Zephaniah's best friend, it would surely be Yakov.

Those two were — and still are — inseparable.

Even when Zephaniah would push him away, Yakov never once gave up on him. He brushed off each silly remark our brother would throw his way, and never engaged with his conflictive habits either.

A built in best friend. That's what they were to each other.

To be honest, i don't know much about their shared interests, but my eldest brothers have always seemed to be connected in a way that the rest of us aren't. And, throughout my childhood, i barely spent time with the two.

I do have vivid memories though, stored somewhere in the back of my mind.

I recall standing in-between them as a toddler, and they would swing me back and forth in the air while i held onto their hands. However, this was something the older ones would frequently do to distract me, which, i guess, removes its significance.

There was also the time Yakov taught us how to make sandcastles...

To no one's surprise, he wouldn't settle until each one was perfect. But soon after, Zephaniah knocked them all down as punishment when Quentin began flicking sand into his eyes.

The latter had cried non-stop afterwards, but i found it rather funny.

In fact, i often found it funny when Zephaniah made people cry...just not when it was myself.

"...Is she even listening to anything i'm saying right now?"

No, Zephaniah.

"What on earth is she looking at?"

The cute blonde at table three.

"Jesus, Rori. Pay attention, will ya?"

Vinnie rudely flicking my forehead diverts my attention.

"Uh-huh?" i smile up at him, feigning innocence.

"Ignore it," Uvaldo snarls. "She's too busy ogling that grown man over there, who's, like, twice her age, by the way."

"He's like thirty, Val. Relax."

"Like i said..." he eyes me up and down as if i am stupid.

"Seriously?" i shoot him a look of disdain. "Since when did admiring someone's side profile become a crime?"

My brother narrows his eyes at me, shaking his head in disappointment, as if he wasn't just, in his own words, ogling the bartender.

"If we could move on now, please, that would be appreciated," Yakov says from beside me.

My second eldest brother seems to have been by my side all evening; asking me the odd question here and there, giving me disapproving looks when i reach for my phone, and, of course, scolding me for placing my elbows on the table.

I had to refrain from rolling my eyes on several occasions. Though perhaps this is his subtle way of making up for all the years in which he looked past me instead of at me.

The years in which he treated me as if i were a ghost.

"Oh, so you'll listen to him but not me?" Zephaniah's stern eyes bore into mine, and i smile sweetly.

"Looks like it," i say with a shrug.

He grits his teeth, before averting his gaze.

My eldest brother often told me that i was nothing but a stubborn little brat growing up, but i think he failed to notice that he, himself, invented the word stubborn.

If there's any chance of us reconciling in the future...any small, minuscule, chance, he's going to have do a lot more than apologise.

But that's the thing; he won't. He wouldn't.

In fact, i don't think the word 'sorry' even exists in Zephaniah's dictionary.

I do not think that my brother has one empathetic bone in his body.

He is a lot of things: outspoken, big-headed, violent, but never sorry.

Zephaniah is never sorry.

It's just a shame that i am often forgiving.

"Now, as i was saying." he cleares his throat. "We're gathered here to celebrate the merger...and, of course, our family reuniting," he adds the latter as if it were an afterthought. "So, on that note, if anyone has any questions about how this is going to work, you may ask us now."

I find it strange that my brothers decided to take us out for dinner, considering that Xavi only does that on the odd occasion.

However, the private booth we are seated in — the best they have to offer — is a nice change from our dining room.

Not to mention the endless supply of food and drinks, which immediately get charged to Zephaniah's tab.

It's safe to say we kids have been abusing that privilege since the very moment we sat down.

"Are we moving?" Seamus speaks first.

"Not as of now," Yakov is quick to respond. "Zephaniah has recently moved out of his home in New York, so will stay with me for the time being, but we'll see how things go."

A few wary looks are exchanged between us, but nobody says anything else on the matter.

I remain silent, fiddling with the beads on my silver bracelet.

"I want a promotion," Uvaldo requests, though it comes across rather demanding.

"First of all, that wasn't a question," Zephaniah points out, with a raised eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Secondly, i'll consider it...given that you work to a satisfactory standard and exceed my every expectation."

"Is it bad that i want to change my identity and join a different gang?" someone whispers in my ear.

Looking to my right, i giggle as Vinnie's green eyes stare back at me.

I can always count on him to be on my side.

Actually, that's far from true. We disagree a lot.

But still, he's pretty cool.

My eyes drift to the right of Zephaniah and find Quentin. He notices my stare from his peripheral vision, but pays no mind whatsoever.

It's safe to say i am less than happy with my younger brother for ratting us out to Yakov earlier on. God, he has some mouth on him.

I'm just going to hold onto the hope that no one will make my guardian aware of where we were last night.

Wyatt, i know we can trust. Vinnie will only use things against us if he feels the need to, and the same goes with Uvaldo.

Teddy, however...

Well, so long as it concerns getting me into trouble, he's bound to say something.

The only question is: when will he strike?

With said brother on my mind, a target on his back, i shoot him a piercing glare from across the table.

His eyes briefly flash to mine and the son of a bitch has the audacity to smirk at me!

God, what i would give to throw my drink at his smug-looking face right now.

I know he's up to something.

"So, is Xavi still our guardian then?" Quentin asks, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

"Of course i am," Xavi answers him, his tone almost offended, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"The chances of Zephaniah or me being around all of the time are small," Yakov appeases us. "We still have business to take care of elsewhere, as you know, and so it wouldn't be fair to strip Xavi of his title as your guardian."

I unknowingly release a breath after hearing this.

I am willing enough to take baby steps and hopefully accept my brothers back into my life one day, but i can honestly admit that if anyone were to tell me i had to live by Zephaniah's rules again, i might just pack up my stuff and run far, far away.

In comparison to Xavi, my eldest brothers are dictators, which says a lot considering he, too, is a strict parent.

All hell would break loose if one of them were to take charge of me and my life once more. Not to mention the fact i am now anticipating Xavi's inevitable wrath if he finds out about our sneaking out last night.

"Everyone raise your glass. Let's make a toast."

Wyatt's voice startles me, making me realise that, while my youngest brothers were busy grilling the eldest, i was lost in my thoughts again.

"To new beginnings." he pauses, a fond smile on his face which contrasts the dull expression on mine. "And to the Łabanowskis." his smile morphs into a small, self assured smirk. "Because no one who dares to mess with our family is left unscathed."

As i knock back my glass, placing it back onto the table before my brothers have even drunk from theirs, i notice something from the corner of my eye.

Or rather, i notice someone.

Nobody else seems to be aware except from me and that is because he is looking directly into my eyes.

He is not so far away that i am unable to see his features but also not near enough that i could possibly recognise who he is.

His eyes remain on mine as he crosses the road and proceeds to walk past the restaurant. But, before he has fully disappeared from my view, i am able to make out the outline of his hand as he offers me a curt wave.

My eyes linger on the spot where he just stood, and i blink a few times to regain my thoughts, attempting to redirect my focus back to my family.

Only i can't.

The boys don't seem to notice that i'm not engaging with their conversation anymore, having moved on to talking about things they know will not be of interest to me.

There is just something about the passing stranger that unsettles me.

It isn't an ominous thing, as such, but it certainly sends a chill down my spine...

Later that night, i am kept awake by unwelcome thoughts of how much my life is beginning to change.

The only good thing is that my nightmares seem to have run their course for now.

I suppose Zephaniah's return has brought back some rough memories for me; only i am not sure of the meaning behind those dreams in which i am drowning.

In which the only one who can prevent my impending doom is him.

The one who has hurt me more times than i can count.

The one who has protected me more times than i can count.

(Edited)