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Now that Arthur was finished with his explanation, Roman was out front of the house, having a smoke by the garage while he waited for the others to get out here. They would be heading to Caliginous on Silverway so Tanner could plant a bug in the security system—one that would give him view of the areas in the building where cameras didn’t cover. The plan was to not just catch Gaven and the imperator, their men included, but to see what they were doing at Caliginous—if there was a reason they were going there that didn’t involve the same reasons Roman and countless other hellsehers went. For appointments to relieve their Surges.
The front door opened, and voices drifted out. The others began to file to the vehicles that were parked in the driveway, figuring out who was going with who, etcetera. Arthur and Kylar would be staying behind with Paxton and Eugene, but everyone else would be going. Darien and Loren were the only ones who weren’t out here yet.
Travis had just determined that he’d ride with Jewels on his bike when he turned on a heel and started heading Roman’s way.
“Fuck,” Roman muttered, the hand that was tucked in his jacket pocket tightening into a fist.
“Did you just swear under your breath?” Travis accused. When Roman didn’t answer, Travis said, “Stop giving me that look.”
“What look?” Roman flexed his jaw.
Travis paused several feet from him, shifting his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Like I’m not supposed to be here.”
“You’re not,” Roman bit out, taking another drag. “The fucking agreement, Travis,” —he blew a stream of smoke at the sky— “was that you wouldn’t come back here.”
Travis winced. “I haven’t seen you in years, and the only thing you’re capable of talking to me about is how I shouldn’t be here?”
Roman stared out at the gates. Paxton lingered near Shay, who stood near Roman’s car—listening. Both of them were listening, Roman could tell. In a world of immortals, privacy was hard to come by.
“Roman?” Travis prodded. His steel eyes were scanning the bruises on Roman’s face, only partially obscured by the shadows beneath his hood. “You never told me it was this bad,” he said quietly.
“You didn’t need to know,” Roman snapped.
“I’m your brother. I should know—”
“Travis—” He took one last drag and flicked the cigarette aside. The sky started spitting rain, fat drops drumming on his hood and speckling the pavement. “This—” he waved a hand at his own face “—is precisely the reason why I got you the fuck out of Yveswich. So that this—” he waved again “—would not be you. Is it so hard to understand why I’m pissed?”
“Go ahead and be pissed, then, but I’m not leaving,” Travis said. “And I’m not going to let that—” it was Travis’s turn to wave “—happen anymore.”
Roman couldn’t find words in the heat of his rage. Since Travis had left the city, and Roman had cut all ties between them, he’d wanted nothing more than to have a relationship with Travis again. One day, he’d always told himself. One day, when Don was dead in the cold ground.
Travis had come back too soon. Travis, the one brother he’d saved, had come back too fucking soon. And Roman knew, the minute Don found out his middle child was back, in the city he’d abandoned…
Black pushed at his eyes, and he squeezed both hands into fists.
“You’re worried,” Travis said. “And I get it. I’m worried, too—I admit it. But I’m not a teenager anymore, Roman—”
“It doesn’t matter how fucking old you are, Travis!” Roman barked. “I’m twenty-seven years old, and I couldn’t beat Dad in a fight if my life depended on it!” His voice ripped through the yard, silencing the conversations of the others who stood by the vehicles. “And it fucking has,” Roman continued, breathing heavily, working to lower his voice and failing. “But, by some grace—or curse—of the gods he hasn’t killed me yet. Yet,” he enunciated, nostrils flaring. There had been several close calls, most of them in the last twelve months. Paxton was Roman’s only tether back to life, the thought of his brother being alone in the House of Black keeping his heart beating day after day.
It was either that, or the gods were punishing him. Giving him a personal hell right here in Terra before he went to the next after death.
Darien came out of the house, then. He thumped down the front steps, keys in hand, Loren trailing behind him. She pulled up the hood of her white jacket, her full lips moving with a question Darien answered with equal quiet.
Travis’s throat worked with a swallow. “I’m not leaving, Roman. And he,” Travis said, pointing now at Darien with a hand that slightly trembled, “is not leaving, either.” Fuck, they’d talked—clearly.
As if his name had been called, Darien glanced their way.
“This isn’t his war to fight,” Roman said, tearing his eyes off Darien, but speaking loudly enough for his cousin to hear, too. He wouldn’t drag any more people into this than the ones who had to be in it—himself, that was it. What he preferred. No Travis, no Darien—and as soon as Pax was old enough, Roman would throw him the hell out of this city, too.
“You’re right—it’s not,” Travis said. “But you have people who care about you. People who are really fucking pissed that you watered down how bad it was over here. I’m going to let Darien talk to you himself, and you can go ahead and try to convince him not to help and see if you win. But you’re not winning with me—not this time. I’m here to stay.”
With a steadying breath, Roman stalked up to Travis, who’d grown nearly to his height. Ignoring the many faces watching their exchange, he growled, “Then I guess I’ll have to bury my brother, after all, won’t I?”
He walked past Travis before he could reply—and before he could feel the weight of his words in the colors of Travis’s aura. He knew this wasn’t what Travis had expected to come home to, but Roman hadn’t expected him to come home at all. He was an adult, and he could make his own decisions, but Roman feared he was choosing wrong.
And feared he’d literally have to watch his own brother be killed right before his eyes. In Yveswich, a Darkslayer abandoning his house was a crime that demanded punishment. And now that Travis was back on Yveswich soil, a Devil walking a zone that didn’t belong to him, Don had free rein to enact that punishment any way he wanted.
And Roman knew he’d aim exactly where it would hurt the most: at Roman.
