Chapter 18: XIV

— QUENTIN —

My sister has just exited the bathroom.

She stuffs her phone into her right pocket and then lazily runs a hand through her curls.

She seems out of sorts, as she looks down at the ground while walking towards us, slightly wobbling when she does so.

I nudge Seamus, who's attention is elsewhere, and, after taking one glance at Rori, we share an identical look of concern.

By now, our friends have already left the cafe.

It has been a total of fifteen minutes since Rori walked off. They insisted on staying but we told them not to. Annalise had even offered to check on her, but Seamus warned her that doing that would only make things worse.

He is silent now, as we wait. Completely indifferent. Wearing a brooding scowl on his face as he looks into her worried eyes. A few weeks ago, he would not be standing here scowling at her. A few weeks ago, he would have been the first one to ask what was wrong. But now, he doesn't say anything at all.

When he does speak to her, i am nervous of how the conversation will go.

Will he say something of use or will he simply ridicule her?

I can never tell.

But he is my twin, and so is Rori, and, therefore, i can't help but feel a little responsible on behalf of both of them. If he makes some snide remark which then offends my sister, i will feel partially responsible for him making her upset.

I may be the youngest in the family but sometimes it really feels like i'm my siblings' baby sitter.

"I need to speak to Quen for a second," Rori tells our brother.

Seamus scoffs and shakes his head at me, and i shrug my shoulders in return.

I feel a little pity for the paranoid boy, who most likely assumes we are plotting against him.

We often make fun of our sister for being so nosy, but clearly it's not just her who feels they constantly have to adhere to one's business.

"Go ahead," his gruff voice suggests that he is giving her permission.

He rolls his eyes, huffing to emphasise his annoyance, while walking over to a couch in the cafe, a miserable look on his face as he pretends to scroll on his phone, no doubt wishing to eavesdrop on our conversation.

I turn to face Rori, raising my eyebrows in question.

"I have to go and meet Zeph," is all she says. "I was hoping you would cover for me?"

Suddenly, her pulling me aside makes sense, as i know she would never rely on Seamus at this moment in time.

"He's with Yakov, remember? Do you even know where they are?" i ask, skeptical of her sudden urgency to see our brother.

"Yes. Don't worry, i'll phone him. Have them meet me," she reassures me, and i nod, albeit begrudgingly.

I sigh, and again look over to where Seamus is sitting.

He is slouched against a cushion, staring at the two of us, but when he notices i'm looking at him, he immediately drops his gaze.

I suppress a smile at his predictability, refocusing on my sister.

"If Xav asks, i'll figure something out. But please make sure to keep in touch with me," i compromise, and she sighs in relief.

I know that if Xavi catches me lying for my sister, i will be betraying his trust even more so, however, this knowledge does not affect me right now because i am well aware of what happened between he and Zephaniah.

"Thank you so much, Quenny. You're the best," she says, pulling me in for a quick hug, which i happily return. "Goodnight, Sunshine!" she then calls out to our brother, who most likely mumbles a retort under his breath.

As soon as Rori leaves, i approach him.

I sit at the opposite end of the couch and deliberately rest my feet on his lap to annoy him. As expected, he looks up from his phone and flashes me an unimpressed glare, roughly shoving my feet off.

"Dick," i hiss.

"Moron," he instantly snaps back. "What did she want from you and why has she left without us?"

"She has a name, Seamus." i say, simply to spite him.

"Yeah, a darn stupid one," he grumbles.

"Your name is Seamus," i remind him.

"And your name is Quentin," he says with a smirk. "Sounds like some guy from the sixteen hundreds."

"Shut up."

"No," he says. "Now tell me what Rori said."

I sigh, shaking my head at his determination.

There is no point in keeping it a secret when he will otherwise find out for himself.

"She's going to meet Zephaniah."

"Now?" he scoffs, increduous. "Why?"

I shrug.

He sighs.

"What am i missing here?" he presses, a frown forming on his face. "Why would she not want me to know that?"

Is he serious?

"She doesn't trust you right now, Seamus," i answer. "Everything she says or does gets used against her somehow. So as far as you're aware, she's staying at Anna's house tonight and you will not dare tell Xavi or anyone else the truth."

He laughs at me.

"You know, i don't really trust her either," he says. "In fact, this whole fight started because of her betraying my trust, and now you turn it around on me? You blackmailed me with some old news just because Rori went running back to you, crying about how mean her her brothers are."

"Yeah, pretty much, i did," i say, bluntly. "I mean, what else was i supposed to do? I just want my siblings to get along, but some of them are too fucking stubborn to apologise." i sigh, recollecting my thoughts. "But we both know her snitching on us has nothing to do with it, so don't give me that bullshit!"

"Well enlighten me, Quentin!" he demands in a raised voice. "What is the real reason?"

"It's because you're exactly like the rest of them," i seethe, venomously. "Just like Teddy, you've been brainwashed. Taught to care for yourself and for yourself only. Rotten apples, the lot of you. But i won't let it happen to my only sister."

I know i will regret speaking to him so harshly later on, but he needs to hear the truth from someone he knows will give it to him.

It isn't often that i become frustrated with one of my siblings, but there's only so much i can take before i kick off.

"So what? You think that because i made a few little threats to my sister, i'm just like them?" his lip curls, and he doesn't even try to hide the look of satisfaction on his face. "Are you really that soft, Quentin?"

"It's not just the unnecessary threatening that makes you the perfect poster boy for Zephaniah and his merry band." i shake my head, unable to believe he is so oblivious. "Take a long, hard look in the mirror, Seamus, because i doubt you'll even recognise yourself."

We are capable of joking around, he and i, but being in the middle of all his petty feuds is beginning to get increasingly exhausting. And as the days go by, and the nights get darker, my placid personality seems to be ripping at the seams.

Growing up as the identical twin brother of Seamus has been more difficult than it has been fun. Even through childhood, he was the same: constantly picking fights with other children and leaving me to clean up the mess.

He is self-centred, compulsive, and extremely disrespectful.

He is everything i am not.

"Rori needs you right now, Seamus. She needs both of us," i say, once i have calmed down a little. "Her mental health is a riot, she's becoming dependent on others around her. She wakes me up in the middle of the night. I'm there for her but you're not."

When i look into his eyes this time, i see a small glimmer of realisation slowly passing through them.

He looks away all too quickly, not wanting me to catch his display of emotion.

"I don't want to say that she loves you the most because i'm every bit her twin, as you are," i continue "But if you never put things right with your sister, and if you continue to treat her as if she is dirt for the rest of our lives, she'd still be able to say your name fondly. Because that's the type of person Rori is."

As i stand and head towards the exit, i stop to glance at him once more.

He is slightly more recognisable this time.

"And so, no, i don't have to blackmail you, because i know you're going to do the right thing. Starting from now." i nod my head, certain. "You don't have to be unkind in order to make a name for yourself in this family, Seamus. Please remember that."

— SUCKER PUNCH —

"Ms, i simply cannot allow you to enter this club when you are clearly underage. Not to mention the lack of ID you came with. Now, would you please walk away before i have to alert my boss."

Club Lumina.

I knew my brothers would be here. I just knew it.

And when i inconspicuously messaged Xavi, he confirmed what i already knew.

He said he would've joined them tonight, if it weren't for the fact he is currently trying to stay as far away from Zephaniah as possible.

He misses Wyatt right now, as do i. Despite the fact it has only been a matter of days since we last saw him.

The only thing is, the last time he disappeared for days at a time, he returned with Yakov.

I wonder who he'll bring this time.

Perhaps our uncle?

As usual, we have been left with no updates and no calls. Just a letter on the fridge, stating his departure, which is at least better than nothing.

Things are always dreary when Wyatt isn't around. Pretty much all of my siblings would agree with that.

And now, Xavi is truly missing his best friend for the first time in what feels like years; truly realising how much he needs Wyatt in his life...a feeling that i relate to also.

Xavi asked me if i had contacted Wyatt, to which i replied yes.

He said that he needs our brother to come home this instant, so they can discuss things.

Whatever that means.

I need our brother to be here too.

My most frequent source of comfort. The one who makes everything better.

He would, without a doubt, find a way to manage situations like the one i am faced with now.

"No, Sir, with all due respect, it is you who does not understand," i tell him, with hostility in my tone. "I do not care if my name isn't on some stupid list, you must let me in here. It's an emergency."

"Ms—"

"Łabanowski," i seethe. "The name is Łabanowski. And if you look at your precious list, you'll notice the names of my brothers written down. If you don't believe me, a simple google search will provide all the evidence you require."

To his right, the stereotypical bald and buff bodyguard pulls out his phone, doing as i instructed.

He glances at his phone screen, and then at me, his eyes widening at whatever news he has discovered.

He nudges the younger man who indifferently nods his head in understanding, before asking for someone on his Walkie-Talkie.

Within thirty seconds, i am personally escorted into the club, members of staff apologising for the mens' incompetence.

Sometimes it pays to be a Łabanowski.

— SUCKER PUNCH —

A chorus of rowdy laughter fills my ears and the smell of expensive cologne hits my nostrils from the moment i set foot through the door. Besides from that, the place reeks of alcohol and something else i can't quite put my finger on.

I observe a middle-aged man, who shuffles a deck of cards on a poker table.

A waitress, who appears to be in her mid-twenties, stands beside his group. She is gorgeous and extremely elegant, with mid-length, curly, blonde hair, plump lips which are painted red, and a long, black, slip dress which hugs her slim figure.

Compared to everyone else, i stick out like a sore thumb.

My outfit isn't too garish today, at least, but this isn't exactly a place where one would wear jeans and sneakers.

The sound of cheering diverts my attention to the bar, where a group of handsome young men stand, laughing and patting each other on the back in the way that only men do.

Another young lady brushes past my left side, carrying a silver dish in her right hand, and i instantly get flashbacks to this morning after seeing that it holds four neat lines of cocaine.

Anman sitting in the far corner of the room rubs his hands together in eagerness, roughly pulling the woman onto his lap before he snorts a line. I grimace and look away from them, now drawn to the jazz band who play in the centre of the large room.

The lead vocalist — a beautiful, dark-skinned woman — furrows her eyebrows when she notices me, looking me up and down because she knows i do not belong here.

Her dress is much more decorative compared to the other women; with intricate, gold designs all over.

"Two shots of the strongest drink you have," i order, piling several bank notes into the bartender's hand.

The man simply winks at me and says nothing else, immediately preparing my shots.

As soon as he hands me them, one by one, i dispose of them into my mouth. A burning sensation soon follows, as the fiery flavours of the drink all erupt on my tongue at once, eventually resulting in a familiar, numb feeling which i crave so often.

"They tower over anyone and everyone. One of them has a scar on his face and the other is most definitely wearing black. Where the hell could they be?" i mutter to myself, receiving a few judgmental looks from those around me.

The bartender holds another drink in his hand, which the man on my left reaches for, but i quickly intercept before he can get ahold of it.

I take a quick sip and then pass it to him, seeing that his fists are now clenched as if he wants to kill me right here and right now.

Hastily standing up from my seat, i stumble back a little which causes a waiter behind me to drop his tray. Glass smashes everywhere, but, luckily, the sound is drowned out by the background chatter and band.

I crouch next to him and begin to  frantically pick up the little shards of glass, repeatedly apologising while doing so. The man doesn't seem to bother at all, nor does he question what i am doing here, but i still take the time to help him out.

I am picking up the final piece when my hand brushes the tip of a man's leather shoe. I internally cringe when he doesn't move from his spot, but don't bother looking up either, as i am already far too embarrassed.

"S—sorry, Sir."

Suddenly, his arm tightly wraps around my wrist and yanks me up from the floor, causing me to shriek in surprise.

This time, i feel too frightened to look up, but do so anyways, and then my shrieking dissolves into a quiet whimper.

"Y—Yakov?" it comes out as a question, even if it is not my intent. "Fancy seeing you here," i say through nervous laughter.

To say he looks angry right now would be the understatement of the year.

Shocked, infuriated, and utterly disappointed? Yes, i believe those would be better descriptions.

And if i thought the guy who's drink i stole wanted to kill me, Yakov is surely about to.

"Save the pleasantries for Zephaniah, mia cara."

The moments that follow are all too reminiscent of my childhood.

The only time that Yakov ever did pay any attention to me was when i was in trouble. He would grip me by the arm, or lift me up if i was being too stubborn, and proceed to drag me all the way to wherever our older brother was at the time.

He, of course, was proud of himself back then for handing me over like i was being auctioned at a cattle-fair. He thought he was doing the right thing.

Kiss-ass.

I would wail non-stop, bribe him, guilt-trip him, blackmail him, do absolutely anything i could to avoid the inevitable, but Yakov was not empathetic in the slightest.

Kind of like right now...

Of course, if it weren't for the fact i need to see Zephaniah, i would be talking his ears off, referring back to our friendly conversation earlier on and reminding him that he was going to try and be a better brother.

I would guilt trip him by saying that he is my favourite brother and tell him how much i love him, but it would be worthless and down-right humiliating as he would not even spare me a single considerate glance.

Instead, he would grip my arm so tightly that all of the blood in my body would rush to it, and i would release a string of curses under my breath.

"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow."

"Don't be so dramatic, Rori." he rolls his eyes at me, continuing to direct us through the large crowd of people.

We eventually stop in front of large, double doors, but, before i can say anything, Yakov impatiently bursts through them.

It is the worst possible time for Yakov to become impatient, also, because, by the time he ever-so-spitefully shoves me into the room, i see a sight that makes me want to run five hundred miles in the opposite direction.

"Dios Mio."

So, i successfully diverted Yakov's attention...but at what cost?

No sister wants to walk in on some random girl making out with her brother.

"I—i was just—"

"Leaving?" Yakov ushers the woman in a disdainful tone.

"Uhm, yes, sorry. I'm so sorry," she apologises, clearly distressed, but my brother pays her no mind as he dismisses her with a wave of his hand.

Right after that, i hear a shuffling noise, and, when i open my eyes, the woman is passing by us. She smiles at me, awkwardly, and the only look i can muster up in response is a sour-faced grimace.

Poor girl.

Actually, no, poor Rori!

"Compose yourself for once, Zephaniah. You're here for business, not pleasure," the latter scolds him in a disapproving tone.

"She came onto me," he argues. "And i happen to be slightly drunk."

Yakov sighs the most exasperated of sighs.

"Little sister!" Zephaniah suddenly exclaims, and i turn my head to see that he is staring directly at me, a warm smile on his face. "You always seem to pop up where you aren't wanted."

"It seems that's a habit we both share, hm?" i instantly retort.

"Touché." he nods, before facing Yakov once more. "Where did you find her and why didn't you throw her out?"

"Throw me out?" i scoff in offence.

"Si." he nonchalantly nods. "He should've left you by the garbage cans outside, tied a pretty name tag around your neck, and hoped that a nice, little family took you in by Christmas time."

"Say something, please!" i whine to Yakov.

"No, Rori, i think you ought to do the talking here," he dismisses me without a moment of hesitance. "In fact, i believe you owe us both an  explanation as to what you are doing here."

He makes his way over to where Zephaniah is now standing, and their relation becomes more apparent from the way they mirror each other's intimidating stance.

I was right about Zephaniah, also, as he is clad in a black shirt and pants, the sleeves on the shirt rolled up half-way and the top buttons left undone to show off his various tattoos.

Yakov is dressed the opposite...yet similar. He is wearing an off-white, pristine looking shirt, and both of them are wearing several jewellery pieces.

"How on earth did you get in here?" Zephaniah asks when i don't say anything, genuine intrigue in his eyes.

"By revealing that i was your sister," i respond, begrudgingly. "That tends to scare people shitless."

Suspicious, he squints his eyes at me, furrowing his eyebrows in a perplexed state.

"Well, they shouldn't have allowed you to enter. You're fifteen," he says, before adding, with a baffled expression, "My God, you're fifteen? Last time i checked, you were like six."

I send him an unimpressed glare, which he ignores.

"Why did you come here?" he asks, before i have the chance to say anything.

"I—"

I hesitate, because how the fuck am i supposed to admit to him that some random man called me and told me to check on my brother?

He would either: A) laugh in my face. Or B) Lose his shit.

I mean, both of those outcomes are things i am used to when it comes to Zephaniah, but in a public setting like this, option B could put us all in danger.

"Spit it out, Rori. We don't have all night," he orders, harshly. "What are you doing here?"'

I want to tell him the truth, only i can't seem to find the words.

Surely he will think i am mad, or that i am playing a childish prank on him like Xavi.

Or maybe it does turn out that the guy on the phone was the one playing a prank and he will label me a liar, Yakov too, and i will become the boy who cried wolf.

I just...this all happened so fast.

Receiving the call, getting into the club, confronting my brothers.

I never really had time to process it from a rational point of view.

I need to distract them in the meantime...

I need to come up with an excuse to get them out of the club as soon as possible, and have them stay the night at our house...

"You have to come home," i insist. "Now, i mean."

"And why on earth would i do that?" he asks, seemingly amused by my command.

"Because..."

"Because?"

"Because bad things are gonna happen if you don't!" i exclaim.

"Bad things are going to happen either way, Rori, i don't see how me leaving the club will help." he laughs.

"But, what about Henryk?" i ask, my voice small. "What if he's in town? What if he finds you?"

"What the hell has gotten into you, Rori?" he snaps. "You're so fucking deluded. Always living in fear. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"That's enough, Zephaniah," our brother interjects.

"What, you think i'm gonna die or something? You think he's gonna kill me? Maybe in your nightmares, Sweetheart, but in the real world, it'll be me who sticks the knife through his heart. You hear me?"

"I wouldn't fear the worst if i didn't care about you to begin with," i tell him. "Do you really think i want to admit that? That i truly care for your existence, and your well-being, because i do. That doesn't mean i want to."

He raises his chin and clenches his jaw, looking down at me without a hint of interest in his eyes.

His snide remarks have already set me off, and i quickly become side-tracked from the task i set out to complete.

"You smirk, and sneer, and make a joke out of every single thing i say." i shake my head, pathetically heartbroken by my own realisation. "You have no idea what i went through when you weren't around. You couldn't give a flying fuck about me, or the rest of your siblings," i venomously spit. "So in all seriousness, Zephaniah, i want nothing more than to hate you."

I did hate you, i wish i had said. But that's the thing. Hating someone becomes unbearable after a while.

"I have so much to say to you both, but especially you, Zeph." i lazily gesture to him. "Dozens, upon dozens of letters, all addressed to your name. And i pity myself. I pity that optimistic little girl and her naivety!"

His eyes bore into mine throughout the duration of my speech, and it feels as if he is staring into my soul.

As if he is trying to figure out the mechanisms of my brain.

But before any of us can say anything more, a young man appears by the doorway, sparing me a brief glance of confusion before facing my brothers.

"Sorry, i, uh, wasn't aware you guys had company," he awkwardly apologises. "The guys are waiting for you in the other room."

I look at Zephaniah, and then i look at Yakov.

My eldest brother's eyes have yet to look away from me. Yakov, on the other hand, is focused on our brother.

This is your chance, my eyes tell him. This is your chance to make everything right. To mend our relationship, once and for all.

Zephaniah can easily read my tentative expression and the glimmer of hope in my eyes, watching how they flicker back and forth between his own.

He sees how i am forced to gulp, because my throat has now become dry with anxiety.

And as he nudges me to the side on his way past, without even uttering a single word or shooting me a look of consolation, he sees how that hope has quickly withered and how my lips part as i am forced to take in a sharp breath.

If he turned around, he would be able to see the way my head now hangs low to hide the disappointed look i wear on my face.

Zephaniah has already experienced the satisfaction of seeing my heart shatter into a million pieces many times before.

Why does he like seeing me suffer in such a cruel way?

Why does he like to kick me when i am already down?

As a little girl, i wanted nothing more than to be loved by him.

He was my father figure, after all, seeing as my real father never spoke so much as a few sentences to me throughout the eight years that i knew him.

And in my heart, i needed Zephaniah to be the father ours wasn't.

To love me, and dote upon me, like i was the greatest blessing life gave to him.

Like i was the sister he wanted, and not the little girl he merely viewed as weak and incapable.

But unfortunately, that little girl was forced to grow up overnight and realise that she would never be enough for him...

That there is no point in fighting for something that never was. No point in waiting on apologies that would never come.

And so she would move on. One way or another. Without Zephaniah.

"Rori?"

I swivel my head, refusing to cry at the sight of my second eldest brother who appears to be a different man to the one i spoke to earlier on.

What good are my tears now?

"Don't even bother starting, Yakov. I know how you feel about him, but you cannot justify his behaviour any longer. I'm sick of it!"

"Lower your voice, Rori," he annoyingly scolds me, before raising his hands in surrender. "I wasn't going to defend him."

"Good," i say, and i laugh, humourlessly.

"I'll take you home now, Sorellina. Okay?" he reaches for my hand but i am quick to recoil.

Although Yakov has said nothing to hurt me, it's his actions tonight that leave me feeling betrayed.

And after i forgave him?

Same old, same old.

The dynamic duo doing their best to make my life a living hell.

Yakov hands me over to our brother, who then rips into me until i'm reduced to crying right in front of his eyes; i piece myself back together again, we slowly begin to make progress, but alas, the process will repeat itself time and time again.

As soon as Zephaniah leaves the room, Yakov is back to being himself again.

Or at least his new self.

Personality number two, shall we call it?

There is no more trying to please his brother by getting me into trouble. Instead, he attempts to comfort me. His comfort, however, i do not want.

For the first time in a while, i view him as a complete stranger; the man who joined us for dinner last month.

For the first time in a while, i have only seven brothers and he is not one of them.

And for the first time in a while, i truly wish it stayed that way.

"No, Yakov. You don't understand." i shake my head, profusely. "Something bad is going to happen. He's going to die tonight if we leave him here on his own."

"Rori, cara mia, i truly don't think you're feeling very well right now," he says, his voice gentle and slow. "We must go."

"But the man..." i continue, not thinking about what i'm saying. "The man on the phone call, he..." i pause mid-sentence, determinedly trying to remember his words. "He implied that Zephaniah isn't safe. That i'd better check up on him, before it's too late."

Yakov pales, and his calm facade begins to morph into something akin to that of Zephaniah's rage.

"Whatever are you talking about?" he asks me, his cold eyes filled with nothing but concern. "What man is this you speak of? What phone call?"

"Before i got here. The call. The man. Red Lion."

At this point, i am struggling for breath between each fumbled word. In fact, i think i am on the brink of a panic attack.

My petrified eyes find Yakov's, who immediately takes action. He gently places a hand on my right shoulder, and i allow him to guide me out of the room and back into the open space where most people are still crowded.

With each movement we make, i frantically scan my surroundings, and my vision becomes a total blur as i fail to make out the passing faces of those who stare at me and my brother with questioning glances.

Dizzy on my feet, i lean further into his hold, causing him to place both hands onto my shoulders as he steadies me, forcing me to walk in front of him.

I almost bump into another set of double doors when we come to a stop but luckily Yakov prevents me from doing so, saving myself a head injury and, of course, embarrassment.

As the doors fly open, i see twelve men staring in our direction.

My eyes immediately find Zephaniah.

I begin to come back to my senses a little bit when i see that he is still alive and well. I can tell that Yakov feels the same, also.

However, this feeling of relief doesn't  last for much longer...

Everything that occurs after this moment feels like an out-of-body experience. As if i am watching a scene from a film play out, rather than witnessing it in real life.

My eldest brother is in perfect line of vision, comfortably seated on one of the red, velvet chairs by the head of the oval table.

He was sipping his scotch, only he stopped himself right as we burst through the doorway.

That's when he began to scrutinise the glass's contents...

His pupils are larger than usual, as they shift between mine and Yakov's.

As if he is silently conversing with the two of us.

"Zephaniah?" Yakov finally speaks. "Is everything okay?"

But he does not receive an answer.

Instead, he watches our brother's hand begin to tremble, and the glass begin to jostle around, and the way it shatters across the table.

Shards of tiny glass fly everywhere, just like earlier on when i carelessly bumped into the waiter.

Zephaniah's head begins to dangerously droop.

He tries to stand up from his chair but stumbles backwards in the process.

I move to run forward but Yakov holds me back, rushing to our brother's side and stabling him like he had done with me only a mere moment ago.

If people could see my eldest brother now, struggling to stand on his own two feet, unable to respond to the sound of his own name, i wonder, would they still be scared shitless?

A chorus of rowdy laughter fills my ears.

The smell of expensive cologne hits my nostrils.

And the place reeks of alcohol...way too much alcohol.

(Edited)