Page 67 of This Reckless Home

“And the second kid?” he asks. I take a breath, feeling his arms tightening around me, but a part of me knows I don’t deserve the comfort. Not for this.

“Liam. Fourteen. Last year.” Another inhale, the guilt threatening to swallow me whole. “His father was grooming him to join his white supremacist group.” Nox’s arms freeze as I shiver, remembering the hate on that man’s face, the Nazi flags decorating his porch. Remembering knowing what the money I was offering him would be used for. Knowing the harm it would help cause, and still doing it anyway because by that point Liam was my son just as much as any of the others, and what mother wouldn’t sacrifice the world to keep their child safe?

Nox is tense beside me and Steele goes very still in the passenger seat. I watch the back of his head, the tension in his shoulders.

“How much?” Steele’s deep voice is barely above a growl, and my heart thrashes in my chest as a lump forms in my throat.

“I paid two hundred thousand dollars to that vile man.”

My words are broken. I know that what I did was so wrong, but the other option was to leave Liam to become just as hateful as his father and I just… couldn’t.

The car fills with silence so thick I can barely breathe through it.

“Where's the kid now?” Nox asks carefully, voice low against my hair but loud enough for the others to hear. I want to pull myself from his embrace, not knowing how he can stand to hold me after my confession. Especially given his background. But his arms band tighter when I move.

“California. Witness protection. Liam testified against his father six months after I got him out.” My voice is steady even though my hands are shaking and I feel nauseous. “He told the FBI everything. Meetings, plans, weapons caches. They'd been investigating for years, but Liam…” I finally meet Steele's dark eyes even though it feels like the hardest thing I’ve ever done. “Liam gave them what they needed for convictions. Twelve members of that hate group are in federal prison now because of him.”

“So you saved the kid and he took down the whole organization.” Anatole's tone is flat, but his knuckles have gone white on the steering wheel. His jaw works. “That money could've bought anything. A gun. God knows what. Pointed at any of us. At Noah.” My throat tightens.

The FBI agents saw Liam’s testimony as a win, but really, it was a bitter victory given how much harm the group had been causing for decades. How much they were able to cause with the money I gave them.

“The money still funded them for six months.” Steele's voice is flat, hard. I can’t help flinching at the brutal truth, the reality of my actions. “Bought propaganda. Weapons. Whatever the fuck else Nazis buy.”

More heavy silence as once again the hard truth remains.

They did use the money to harm innocent people. I gave them that money. I chose to give them that money, and regardless of my reasons, it didn’t and doesn’t alter those two facts.

“Yes.” My throat closes, tears fill my eyes and burn as they spill silently over my cheeks. “It did.”

We sit in silence, absorbing Steele’s words. Absorbing mine.

It’s not comfortable, but it’s not meant to be.

Anatole glances at Steele. “What would you have done? Left the kid there?”

Steele's jaw works. “No.”

“So—”

“But I'm not gonna pretend it doesn't sit wrong.” Steele cuts him off, still staring straight ahead. “And you shouldn’t either. That money funded people who'd lynch me without thinking twice. Who'd hurt Noah. Call Nox a half-breed while they beat him fucking bloody.”

Silence again, heavy and weighted and uncomfortable.

The night passes by the car windows, darkness surrounding us but I doubt any of us see it.

Nox's arms tighten around me.

The moment holds, awful images no doubt playing like a movie inside all our heads.

“I know,” I whisper, the words hurting as they leave my throat. “I think about it every day. Who that money hurt before Liam could⁠—”

“Good.” Steele's voice softens slightly, though is no less firm. “You should.”

His eyes meet mine in the mirror for just a moment, and I nod, letting out a shaky exhale. I can't read his expression in the darkness, but my chest tightens all the same.

Have I lost him?

Would I blame him if I had?