Chapter 20: XVI

— RORI —

It's Tuesday now and approximately three days have passed since the incident at the club.

Xavi explained everything to the boys as soon as they woke the next morning, which, as i had anticipated, didn't go down smoothly.

They only began to calm down once Yakov revealed to us that our brother was awake. We huddled together in the living room and listened to him and Zephaniah argue over speaker phone.

It wasn't as entertaining as it sounds, however, since most of their arguing was about me. Not only that, but Zephaniah sounded very frail, weak, and well...not himself.

Apparently, the side effects of whatever medication they put him on has yet to wear off. Yakov described his symptoms as extremely drowsy, confused, and light-headed.

Also, according to Yakov, Zephaniah had addressed him by different names (mainly Wyatt) on more than one occasion. Thankfully, his disoriented state has begun to wear off now.

Yakov also explained to Zephaniah and the others about why my involvement was necessary, and when they found out about the phone call, they were absolutely livid.

And when i say livid, i mean they had pitchforks at the ready.

Yesterday morning, i woke up to see my phone resting on my bed-side table. When i asked Xavi if he was able to trace the call back, all he said was that the number does not exist.

I was a little shaken by this statement, since now we have no way of finding out who the caller was.

The only clues come from my own recollection, but even then, they most likely aren't an accurate representation of what happened at the time. Especially since my sole focus was making sure my brother was safe.

Currently, Yakov and Xavi are dealing with our eldest brother who's stay at the hospital has been prolonged.

We haven't been able to visit him since the night he was admitted, but since i know he is somewhat safe from danger right now, i haven't been dwelling on it too much.

Instead, i fear what will happen once he is released.

"Hey."

As i exit my room, i look to my left and spot Seamus.

We haven't spoken since last weekend, in Aunt Tosca's cafe, and avoid each other during school hours.

I'm not sure which i prefer: having a brother who won't stop bugging me or having a brother who ignores me twenty-four-seven.

Probably the former.

"Hey," i respond, not bothering to hide the suspicion in my tone. "How have you been?"

It's the first question that comes to mind, and so now i feel like a fool for attempting small talk with my brother.

My twin brother, no less; the boy who has shared each and every milestone with me, from becoming potty trained, to taking part in our first heist.

Small talk should be non-existent to us.

I hate feeling so insecure. I mean, it's not like he's going to judge me for asking a simple question.

Right?

"I've been feeling really shitty, to be honest," he answers without hesitation. "I've been a dick to my favourite sister, more or less, and now she doesn't want anything to do with me."

I roll my eyes.

"I don't blame her, though," he continues. "I've been acting extremely juvenile, and ignorant...jealous even."

The word 'jealous' catches me off guard. What could he possibly be jealous of?

"Any advice on what i should do about it?"

I glance up at him, expecting to see a teasing smile on his face, but instead, his expression remains neutral.

Seamus looks much different now in general.

His short hair is fuller, curlier, and darker. He is taller, broader, and his overall appearance looks much less like Quentin. In fact, besides his twin brother, he could also pass for being Xavi's look-alike.

I have often thought about what it would be like to have an identical twin and each time i conclude that i am glad to not have one.

What can i say? This face is much too pretty for me to share.

And with saying that, the number of times i have been compared to one of my older brothers is enough to put me off entirely. We're not even the same gender, yet apparently i bear an 'uncanny resemblance' to whichever boy i am seen with at the time.

"I think you should firstly apologise to her, properly, and you should bring her favourite food to her..."

Seamus nods, suppressing a smile.

"Well, it's funny you should mention food because i just cooked a mean risotto. And last time i checked, risotto was her favourite dish."

"Oh, really? I thought it was chilli paneer?" i question, innocently.

His eyes widen in realisation.

"Italian dish, i meant her favourite Italian dish," he corrects himself, causing me to grin.

The truth is, neither of these meals are my number one choice right now but i'm not exactly going to pass on the opportunity to eat free food made by a decent cook. Risotto is a good dish but he's most likely thinking about one of our brothers instead.

Besides, all that matters is Seamus has finally come to his senses. That doesn't mean i'll forgive him straight away, God no, but i may as-well take advantage of this in the meantime.

I also have Quentin to thank. I don't know what spell he cast on our brother, but it sure took effect, and pretty quickly too.

"Relax. I'm just messing with you, Seamus. Yes, i'd love some risotto, thanks for the 'subtle' offer."

A wide grin appears on his face, erasing any doubt he had.

"And if i apologised to you right now, would you accept it?" he asks.

"You won't know until try."

"In that case, i'm really sorry, Ria." he declares, awkwardly awaiting my answer.

I can hardly supress a smirk.

He's never been good at owning up to his mistakes — which i can relate to —nor has he been good at apologising. In fact, this might be the first time i have heard a sincere 'sorry' from him in years now.

"For what?" i press.

"For treating you badly, for not hearing you out about the whole Teddy thing, for copying your English assignment, for everything." he sighs, regretfully. "I was an idiot."

"Are an idiot," i swiftly correct him.

"I'm an idiot," he agrees, apologetically shrugging his shoulders.

"I'll accept your apology when you fix the mistakes you've made, starting with the assignment. What grade did you get?"

"A plus," he murmurs, regretfully.

"That A plus should have been mine," i say, angrily. "You'll tell our school the truth. I expect you to receive a failing grade, just as i did. In that case, you completely deserve it."

He nods, seemingly surprised by my hostility.

"I accept your terms."

"Not only that," i quickly shut him up. "I want a written apology. No rushed handwriting, or half-assed attempt, i swear i'll send it back," i warn him.

"You want a written apology; you'll get a written apology," he states. "And anything else, your highness?"

"Money." i flash him an innocent smile.

"Money?" he repeats in sheer disbelief. "You want my money?"

"Yes," i reply, deadly serious. "I know your allowance is bigger than mine, ever since you started working at the clubhouse more regularly. I want some money," i whine. "I don't have enough to buy every single book on my amazon wish list. I mean c'mon, Seamus."

He raises an eyebrow at me, unamused.

"Let me get this straight, you want me to transfer you some extra cash so you can go and buy books that are practically porn in word form, from what i've seen."

"Mhm," i confirm.

"You're a devious little shit, you know that?"

"Aww, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me!" i mock. "But you'll do it, right?"

His lips curl in annoyance, but regardless, he answers me with a curt nod.

"Of course i'll let you waste my hard-earned money," he says, through gritted teeth and a forced smile.

"Anything for your favourite sister, right?" i mock his words.

"Anything." he flashes me a gentle, genuine, un-Seamus like smile. "Anything at all."

— SUCKER PUNCH —

Quentin walks into the dining area, as Seamus begins to serve the risotto for our dinner. I flash him a bright smile, which he returns.

"What's got you looking so chipper?" he eyes me with suspicion, before noticing my plate. "Ooh, risotto! Can i have some?"

He then, like an impatient toddler, goes to snatch the fork from my hand without waiting for a response, frowning in disappointment when i quickly move it out of his reach.

"He made it especially for me," i gloat. "But i'll let you have the leftovers," i add, rather cheekily, causing Seamus to snort a laugh and Quentin to glare at the two of us.

"What a nice thing to do," the latter says, mockingly, while patting our brother on the back. "See, aren't things just so much better when we all get along?"

Seamus pretends to gag, causing Quentin to scurry away from him. I laugh.

He was right.

It is so much better when we all get along.

"Mmm," i hum, contentedly. "You know what, Seamus, i'm gonna need you to make me some more of this tomorrow...and throughout the rest of the week, in fact."

He tilts his head towards the ceiling, muttering something along the lines of "God, have mercy on me."

Quentin glances between the two of us, amused.

"Sure, why not?" he eventually replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm, a false grin plastered across his face as he narrows his eyes at me with a look that says 'I'm going to kill you one of these days'.

"May as-well make some for me too then," Quentin grumbles loud enough for us to hear.

"Quentin, i am not about to be whipping up a whole damn feast for you," Seamus, the grump, snaps at him. "I ain't no Gordon Ramsey!"

"No, but you do have his temper."

"Quen—"

"You're meeting Rori's every command. What am i, chopped liver?" he says, sparing me a mischievous wink.

"It's fine, Quentin, he'll make you some." i face Seamus. "Isn't that right, Seamus?"

If i thought he wanted to kill me before, he definitely wants to kill me now...

"Alright," he begrudgingly agrees, with an exaggerated groan. "Looks like i'm playing maid for tweedle dumb and tweedle dumbest."

I clear my throat, giving him a meaningful glare.

"I mean...my beloved brother and sister."

"Nice save." Quentin smirks at him, taking a seat beside me.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"Oh, of course."

I hear the sound of Vinnie's voice echoing from behind us and find him leaning against the kitchen doorway, phone against his ear.

"Alright...Uh-huh...Yup." his eyes land on mine. "Okay...Bye. See you later"

"Who was that?" i ask, immediately after he hangs up.

"Xav," he grunts. "Couldn't you tell by the fact i couldn't so much as get a word in?"

"The kid talks for America." Seamus nods in agreement, shamelessly licking the remnants from the risotto spoon.

"Hah." Vinnie laughs at his remark. "Who you calling Kid, Kid...ooh, is that risotto?"

"No, it's a baked potato, what does it look like?" Seamus snarls at him, which only adds to our brother's amusement.

I don't know why my most grumpy brother insists on being so hostile towards Vinnie, knowing he will not be rattled in the slightest.

Come to think of it, Seamus is never not grumpy with anyone he meets. Quentin and i are probably the only two people who have experienced the more loveable sides he has to offer.

I guess you could say he is very reserved...

"Easy there, Sunshine," Vinnie mocks, looking him up and down. "Not a fan, are we?"

"Not after today, no," Seamus says, causing massive grins to appear on me and Quentin's faces.

"Anyways, i also came to tell you guys that Wyatt texted me. He should be home some point later on."

My eyes light up with excitement at the thought of seeing my favourite sibling, but then i remember i'm supposed to be mad at him.

He was wrong for leaving us yet again, when things began to go south, not even bothering to let us know the details of his trip.

Wyatt truly is the kindest person i know, but he can be so ignorant sometimes. Even more so than the worst of my brothers.

"What about Zeph?" i attempt to change the topic. "When will he be home?"

"I've no idea, to be honest," Vinnie answers.

"...Kay." i nod, disappointed with his answer.

"But hey, did you not hear me the first time or something? Wyatt's coming home. You remember him, right?" he attempts to joke. "Scruffy blonde, six-foot-something..."

All three of my brothers focus on me, their eyes filled with curiosity.

"Yeah, i heard you. That's great news." i don't bother to feign enthusiasm.

"Well you sure don't sound too excited, Ria," he states the obvious. "Did you guys fall out or something?"

"No." i sigh. "Not exactly."

"Then what?" Quentin presses.

"It's nothing, guys." i roll my eyes at their nosiness. "I'm looking forward to his return, i—i am, it's just..." i trail off, leaving them to stare at me in anticipation. "I don't know."

"Well that was anticlimactic," Quentin sasses. "Also, does he even know what happened yet? With Zeph?"

"Yeah. Xavi told him almost immediately after he found out. He didn't respond though, of course. But i'm guessing that's why he's deciding to come home all of a sudden."

"Did he mention where he was at all?" Seamus joins in the interrogation.

"Nah. Nah, he didn't say anything. Look, i'll show you the text if you want," he says, pulling out his phone which displays our brother's name at the top of the screen.

Wyatt

Today 14:34

Will be home tonight. Xavi gone mad during my absence?

"That is weird..." Quentin scrunches his face in distaste.

"No. That's just Wyatt," Vinnie disagrees. "Ever so laid back, right?"

He does have a point.

Wyatt rarely displays emotions of panic, distress, anger, etc, so when he does, you know the situation is severe.

Christ, even when he fell off his bike and broke his arm at fifteen, the only thing he was truly concerned about was if the groceries he was carrying were still intact.

The man exudes nonchalance.

But with saying that, surely he at least has the decency to check in with Zephaniah?

And what about me?

I was there too. I was involved in the whole scheme. As was Yakov and Xavi in the end.

I am positive that Xavi will have been updating him regularly. Possibly asking for advice, too.

He may be Wyatt's older brother by just fifteen months and two weeks, but it's clear Xavi looks up to him a lot and considers him an equal. A best friend, even.

The way he is acting is disrespectful to say the least, whether he realises or not.

It's always about what suits Wyatt, never the rest of us.

I love my brother with my whole heart, i really do. But if he wants to keep the top spot on my list of favourite brothers, he needs to make a change.

And fast.

— YAKOV —

For the first time in weeks, i head to the head quarters of my former gang, where eleven of Zephaniah's associates are currently being held captive.

I can't help but think they must have had a role to play in what happened to my older brother the other night.

It was no coincidence, that i am sure of. And in our line of work, nobody can be trusted.

Blood, or otherwise.

"I'm here to meet with one of the associates. I'll be in the interrogation room, bring them to me. I don't care which one," i order one of my men.

"Of course, Sir." he nods. "Right away."

Pleased, i make my way to the end of the long corridor, entering the code and unlocking the door of the room.

This is by far the most tedious part of my job. Playing detective really isn't my thing, but it's something that has to be done.

If it were Zephaniah in my position right now, i'm sure he'd have his fun with it.

He'd turn it into a game show, one in which he is the host and the penalty for answering incorrectly costs the contestant a finger or two.

I say this because it would not be the first time where he carried out such psychopathic acts.

In fact, the removal of one's fingers is child's play for my brother.

He'd probably just settle for their head...

The large iron doorway alerts me that someone is entering the room and Carlos Santino, one of Zephaniah's associates, comes into view.

Bound by handcuffs and shoved onto the seat on the opposite side of the table, his expression is grim, his teeth grinding together when he recognises my face.

I smile at him, politely, to knock him down a few pegs. No need to be hostile.

I offer the exact same civility to my younger siblings when they need to be put in their place.

They may view me as their boring, strict, non-participating older brother, but i'm the one who successfully mediates every fruitless little argument they have.

"Santino." i acknowledge him with a curt nod. "I suppose you know the reason for our meeting today?"

He wordlessly nods.

Such unacceptable decorum will result in him getting shot by his superior one day.

"I require you to give me verbal answers, Santino."

"Yes, Sir," he corrects himself. "I—it's about Zephaniah, isn't it?"

"I need you to inform me of any information you may have regarding what happened the night my brother was hospitalised," i cut straight to the point.

Frozen in place, all the boy does is open and close his mouth, repeatedly, like a mere fish.

Carlos is a young man, most likely younger than my brother Vinnie who is barely twenty-one.

And being the youngest of my brother's associates, he would be named the weakest link.

But he has always been obedient, unlike some of the elder men, and never stupid enough to risk his head being sliced off at the hands of a Łabanowski.

"Sir, i promise you i did not want to partake in setting up your brother, i—"

"That's quite enough, Santino," i swiftly cut him off, for his own benefit. "Your fate is not mine to decide. As of now, all i ask for is a name," i lower my voice to a deadly whisper, leaning forward slightly as i speak. "Give me the name of he who tried to lure my brother into a death trap, and we'll be done here."

Anxiously running his tongue along his lower lip, his eye contact falters for a moment, then the words start pouring out of him.

The exact words i was expecting, nevertheless.

"Henryk, Sir," he reveals, gulping once more. "It was your Uncle."

— XAVI —

"Do you want the good news first, or the bad?" i ask, approaching my eldest brother who is leaning against the headboard of his hospital bed, smirking at God knows what on his phone screen.

His unfazed demeanour is truly baffling, considering it is only a few days after the incident at the club.

Unfortunately, we were not able to trace the call due to the fact the number no longer exists. Of course, we have our theories regarding who it could have been.

"Let me guess, it was Henryk's doing," he says, without bothering to glance up from his phone screen.

I raise an eyebrow at him, displeased.

"What gave it away?" i ask.

"Oh, you know, just the fact he sent me a death warrant the moment i turned eighteen. Or perhaps because he's the root of just about every problem in my life." he flashes me a sarcastic grin. "Now for the good news."

"There was no good news," i tell him. "I lied."

"Fuck you." his smile drops.

"We need to decide what to do about Rori," i change the subject. "I'm worried for her."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"The phone call, Zeph, it was untraceable," i say with a sigh. "What if Henryk finds another way to get in contact with her? You know he's capable of doing so. At the end of the day, our sister's a liability. She'd probably jump off a bridge if that friend of her's told her to. Never mind our Uncle."

"Since when has Rori had friends?" he snorts, childishly. "And who said anything about the phone call being from Henryk?"

"I just assumed—"

He clicks his tongue.

"Henryk isn't the only viable option. Yes, it's most likely got everything to do with him but we can't just ignore the other known possibilities."

"I get that. I do." i nod in agreement. "But he's the only one who knew of Mother and Father's plans for Rori. He has the most leverage over any one of us."

"We..." he gestures to both of us, "know what Mother and Father's plans were for our sister. Don't you get that?" he says, as if it were obvious. "It is possible that at some point, word has got out."

I furrow my brows, frowning in thought.

"As in someone overheard us discussing them in the past, or as in one of our siblings has betrayed us?" i ask.

He gives me a knowing look.

"You know what i always say, and that is to trust no one...blood or otherwise. You never truly know what a person's motive is."

I sit in silence, avoiding eye contact with my brother.

The sad fact is, he is completely right. Not that i'd ever admit such a thing to him.

I mean, i can't even say i trust him and he was practically the head of our family for over two decades.

Being betrayed by family is nothing new to us. But still, why would any of us want to risk losing our only sister by spilling the truth about how our family came to be?

The fact is, most of my younger brothers, and Rori herself, do not know said truth. And i pray to God that they don't ever find out, for they would be crushed.

She would be crushed.

Us older ones have known for years now, since we existed long before our parents ever had a daughter. We knew the reason as to why our parents kept trying for a girl but the only time it truly affected us was when little Rori finally came into the world.

Then we began to feel sickened by said world and by our parents, even more so than already.

And so we rarely ever speak about it. Unless, of course, the topic arises in a situation like this one.

That's why i doubt that my brothers would have anything to do with revealing our secrets to an outside source. Even accidentally.

Our private fairs are our private affairs. Even to close friends.

"Well unless it was yourself, or Yakov, my younger brothers and i have nothing to do with it," i seethe, and his lips curls into a slight smirk.

"I believe you, Xav." he nods, seemingly impressed. "And regardless of whether it was Henryk or not, everyone knows our sister is still one of the most valuable people in our entire family." his demeanour turns serious once more. "It is she and i who are in the most vulnerable positions here, and you'd do well to remember that."

"How could i possibly forget?" i challenge.

"Very well." he nods. "And on that note, we ought to discuss what will happen once i am discharged from this buco di merda."

— RORI —

Standing in my walk-in closet, hands against my hips, i look up to where the highest shelf is. Eyeing the white wicker basket, which is tucked in next to some of my winter blankets, i debate my next move.

The small chair in the corner of the room catches my eye and i make a grab for it. Placing both of my feet on the seat of the chair, i am now tall enough to reach the basket.

With a minor thud, i jump off of the chair and place it back in its original position. Walking over to my bed, i gently place the basket down on the covers before allowing myself to flop onto my bed.

I timidly pick up the purple, velvet box, brushing off the dust that has gathered over just a few weeks time. And hesitantly opening it, i am pleased to see that my necklace is still very much in-tact.

I delicately trace my fingers around each and every intricate detail of the locket, admiring it one last time before i decide to look inside.

I can't hold back a smile when i see the picture of me and Zephaniah, which was taken over fifteen years ago now. No matter how hurt i feel due to his cold behaviour the other night, i know this photo always manages to cheer me up.

And i guess that's something reassuring. Because i can reflect on our previous happiness, and the special moments we once shared, yet not be sour about our relationship turning bitter as i grow older.

At just twelve, going on thirteen years old, my eldest brother already looked older than that. Perhaps it was his expression, or lack thereof, as he only displayed a tired smile on his face. A minuscule one, at that.

He was looking down at my face —which the camera only shows half of — and i could tell he was scrutinising me, based off of the fact he still does this today.

The slight narrowing of his eyes is letting me know he was neither pissed off, nor in a good mood. And the furrowing of his eyebrows tells me he was completely focused on me and me only.

Perhaps he didn't even know the photo was being taken at the time, and if so, that would make plenty of sense, considering this is one of few photos including both of us that i have seen before.

But despite the lack of warmth he shows me in this photograph, i do spot something along the lines of fondness in his eyes...a fondness he reserved for me, only every now and then. A fondness he reserved for me when he believed that i was actually worthy of his love.

On the night which Vinnie and Uvaldo were shot, when he found me eavesdropping at The Clubhouse, i noticed his eyes held the same fondness. And although it only lasted for a few minutes, it impacted my mood for several days afterwards.

I will never forget that encounter, because even though his advice was rather twisted, it was still his advise. It is true that i remember almost everything my eldest brother tells me, and take it on board too.

Moments where Zephaniah acts his physical age are few and far between, and so i must make the most of them while they last...

Sudden knocking on my door brings me back into the present. And as i jump in fright, hastily trying to stuff the necklace back into its box, the picture falls out.

I don't bother with it, hurriedly placing it, plus the velvet box, back into the wicker basket, shoving it all behind a nearby pillow.

"What is it?" i call out, and Uvaldo enters my room.

"Xavi's home. He told me to come get you."

I gulp, my heart sinking when he mentions one name instead of two.

Xavi has been at the hospital for the majority of the day and it is only around seven o' clock in the evening now. I can't imagine Wyatt will be back until much later though, but i at least hope our third eldest brother arrived bearing good news.

"No Zeph?" i double check, as he shakes his head in sympathy.

"No Zeph," he confirms.

"Okay." i sigh in resignation. "I'll be down in, like, two minutes," i tell him.

It is troubling me, just how quickly i have become attached to my eldest brother after i had only just managed to accept he was never coming back. And i don't want to lie and say that i haven't missed him while he has been in the hospital, because i clearly do.

I mean, i'm literally sitting on my bed and reminiscing about the past. I'm hardly content at the fact he isn't around right now, which annoys me greatly.

I already admitted to Zephaniah that i care for him just minutes before he was hospitalised, but imagine the torment i would be faced with if he knew how much comfort a silly, old, piece of jewellery brings me.

Surely he'd just think of me as pathetic...Even more so than he already does.

"I'll be counting!" my brother annoyingly announces, though thankfully remembers to shut my door on his way out.

I heave another sigh — this time of relief — once he leaves, and immediately go to retrieve the wicker basket from where it rests behind my pillow.

I place the photo back in its rightful place as quickly as i can manage. The necklace goes back into the box and the box then goes back into the wicker basket.

I want to wear the necklace again, it just doesn't feel right yet.

Not when Zephaniah and i aren't on good terms...But then again, are we ever really?

Still, i'll hold off for a while longer.

Perhaps when he gets released from the hospital i will put it back on, in the hopes that he remembers his act of kindness from five years ago and in the hopes that he appreciates seeing me wearing the necklace again. Rather than finding me pathetic, that is.

Only my hesitancy does remain, seeing as the last time i wore the necklace, it ended up stained from the blood of another.

That was a woeful night, indeed.

My first time committing murder, and probably not my last.

(Edited)