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“Since when have I ever run?” Roman replied, his tone betraying no hint of the fear coursing like ice through his veins.
Roman stopped at Darien’s left. His cousin still smelled of chlorine and blood, still emanated a bone-deep exhaustion and a clawing need for something Roman recognized as drug addiction. If Don made the decision to strike, they’d all be done for.
“What do you want?” Roman bit out.
“What do I want?” Don spat. “I want a son who doesn’t lie. And I want another son who isn’t a spineless pussy—”
“That’s enough,” Darien barked.
Don’s eyes went black. He stalked forward—
Roman moved, coming between Don and Darien. “Stop.” The word echoed. “I’ll go with you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? I’ll go. Happy?”
Don stepped back, beckoning with a hand. “Paxy—”
Roman’s blood cooled. “No,” he snapped.
But Paxton was already walking, squeezing between the people who looked torn on what to do, afraid of making the wrong move, of crossing a line Roman didn’t want them to cross.
There were many.
Roman stopped Paxton with a hand on his shoulder. Said to Don, “He’s staying here.”
“I can do this all night, Roman,” Donovan threatened. “Either you both come to the House of Black…or we end this family reunion. Right here. Right now.” His eyes flicked to Darien again—and gods, that threat in them, that promise of death, was enough to make Roman want to hurl.
Roman stared at his dad, well aware that everyone in the room was looking at him.
There was no point in fighting tonight—they wouldn’t win.
So Roman took his brother by the hand. “Fine. You win. Like always.”
Donovan smiled. “Wise choice.”
“Roman…” The whisper came from Ivy.
Roman’s eyes locked with hers. “It’s okay,” he lied. He scanned the group behind him—the faces of his friends and family.
Darien’s expression was livid, his eyes flickering with black. “Just say the words, Roman,” he urged.
Roman dropped his attention to the floor. Swallowed the lump in his throat. “Not today,” he whispered.
He tugged Paxton out the door, silently vowing to guard him as he always did in their personal hell.
Travis lasted ten minutes. Ten, and then he said screw it and sprinted down the stairs.
He thundered to a stop by the open front door to find everyone standing quietly in front of it.
Don and his Shadowmasters were gone. And so were—
“Where are they?” Travis said, breaths tearing apart his lungs in wild gasps. He stepped into the group, shoving his way through, his eyes picking apart the foyer, the empty living room beyond. “Pax?” His breaths came quicker, head spinning. “Roman?”
Footsteps sounded on the steps behind him. One by one, the others appeared. Loren, Jewels, Malakai, Arthur, and Shay.
“Gone,” Darien said. His voice was hollow and quiet, his eyes a shining black as he stared out at the empty driveway, not a trace of Roman and Pax in the area. “Don took them.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. Pushed his hair back. “And I don’t know what to fucking do.”
Travis knew from the look in Darien’s eyes, his tone of voice, that Roman chose to leave. Knew that Darien found himself at a crossroads for really good reason.
Because going after Roman could have even deadlier consequences than not.
