And what had that changed?
He only grew more restless. He only felt like he’d failed more damn supremely. Violet’s absence settled heavy, a hollow that violence could not fill and fury could not drown. And for the first time, he had no idea what came next.
He cursed.
Reaper exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Let’s take a moment to calm down.”
Drake glared at his brother.
“Very well,” Reaper amended, “don’t calm down. However, there’s nothing you can do about your little flower right now but give her a moment to catch her breath. In the meantime, while she does that, you can settle the matter of this foe of yours.”
“Have one of the others handle them.” He didn’t trust himself to keep their number one family rule.
Reaper nodded. “You should move your treasures in the meantime.”
Drake’s brows furrowed. “Why is that?”
“We might have been seen,frère.”
Drake sighed. Of bloody course.
Reaper reached over the bar for a bottle of cognac. “But first, have a drink. You look like you need one.”
Deveraux staggered to his feet. “Give me that.”
Reaper lifted the bottle out of his reach and handed it to Drake. Deveraux backed down with a scowl.
Drake didn’t drink at once. He held the bottle by the neck, knuckles whitening, taking a moment to collect the last of his damn calm, which had never evaporated this fast.
Reaper watched him for a moment. A coin suddenly appeared between his fingers. “Maxen was so damn furious I thought he’d wring your neck.”
Deveraux scoffed. “Still might. I still might.”
“Where is Maxen?” Drake asked, ignoring Deveraux. The sight of his face still made him want to put a fist in it.
“With his wife,” Reaper answered, coin flicking from finger to finger. “Says to deal with your matters before he deals with you.”
Drake cursed again. “What about Serpent? He’s not been home lately, has he?”
Reaper’s coin vanished into his palm, and he shook his head.
Slightly worrying. They couldn’t afford for their brother to retreat within himself right now.
“Serpent will surface,” Deveraux said. “I understand he always does before things turn for the worse.”
Reaper grunted. “What do you know? What if he doesn’t?”
“Then we drag him back,” Drake muttered. “Same as always.” His gaze slid to the shattered chair as he tore the cork free with his teeth, spat it aside, and took a long swallow. The burn did nothing but summon an unbidden image of Violet, drinking straight from the bottle in his dungeon, unafraid, defiant, looking at him like he had lost his mind.
Perhaps he had.
Perhaps the best thing he could do was turn his back on her.
If I do nothing, I cannot ruin her.
Only if he did nothing, he would lose her entirely. The certainty flared hot and sharp. He would never earn another moment of her attention. And that, worse than becoming his father, felt unbearable.
Drake slumped against the counter of the bar.
