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“You want more pancakes, honey?” Georgie asked him, just as she flipped another buttery pancake onto his plate.

“Of course, pancakes for dinner are my fav,” Jon replied, his mouth full of food.

“Young master, you’re back.” Georgie smiled, noticing me. “Have a seat. I’ll put together a plate for you, and you can enjoy it with your brothers.” I hated the way she addressed me, but somewhere over the years of correcting her, I had given up.

I smiled and thanked her. Georgie had been taking care of me since I was in diapers, and I considered her my second mother.

“Thank God you’re back. I need a raise to babysit this slouch,” Jon groaned, throwing his head back. “He’s the worst company ever.”

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” Grayson gritted out, glaring at Jon, who simply grinned back, enjoying getting a reaction out of him.

I sighed, taking a seat. I knew Grayson wasn’t the White Hand, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t commit another dumb act, so till then I’d asked Jon to keep an eye on him. Grayson was still not allowed to go anywhere except my house, and in return, I now had two guests invading my home.

“No one told me my brothers were having dinner, and didn’t bother inviting me,” said a voice behind me.

Marcus.

“Hey, Marko,” Jon hollered, holding out his fist, to which Marcus rolled his eyes but bumped it anyway. His sling was long gone, and so were his bruises, almost as if he had never been hurt in the first place.

“Is he still not talking?” Marcus gestured toward Grayson, who sat still with his arms folded across his chest, not saying a word.

I didn’t know Grayson had it in him to be this quiet. His uncontrollable rage showed in his eyes, but he didn’t react for the first time in his life. But I knew my brother. He was saving it for someone else, and when he burst, it was going to be a messy bloodbath.

“I just paid a visit to Ame this morning,” Marcus said with a sigh, thanking Georgie when she set down his plate before quietly leaving the room.

Grayson stiffened at the mention of her. He still hasn’t found the courage to face Ame. The guilt of Alessio’s death was eating him alive. I wasn’t cruel enough to point fingers at him and say that it was his fault. It was my responsibility, too, and I failed terribly.

“She isn’t doing too good,” Marcus continued, shaking his head at me. “Father is worried, Kane. You’d better do something fast.”

“I am,” I said flatly. The tone of my voice gave nothing away while my fists curled under the table, my nails digging into my skin. Marcus loved to play the obedient son, and he was. Although he tried not to show it, he loved to soak up Father’s attention. Mother’s incident devastated him the most, and soon after that, he became ten times worse, sticking to Father instead.

Jon glanced my way before he spoke to Marcus. “Dad needs to calm down. Kane’s doing his best.” Although his tone held some lightness, his eyes were hard as they pinned Marcus.

Marcus still didn’t look convinced. “I know that, but we’re running out of time. And keeping Dad in the dark isn’t going to help.”

“I know what I’m doing.” That was all I said, as I calmly cut a slice of my food. Father can go fuck himself for all I care. Even during his reign, I did his work without complaining, and when he made mistake after mistake, I kept quiet. Our family was in this position only because of him.

I’d been refusing to see him. He was furious that I killed his twin without telling him. Except for the stain of Alessio’s death, I was doing a far better job than he did. And soon, this would all be behind us.

Frustration flashed in Marcus’s eyes, but he slowly nodded. “Fine, you know best anyway.”

Thankfully, the conversation soon turned to lighter topics. I left my brothers to finish their dinner and headed straight to my office. Sadly, my day still wasn’t over.

“He’s inside,” Mikhail told me, standing guard near the door.

I nodded, stretching out the knots in my neck before I entered, knowing very well the following talk was going to test me.

“Must be my lucky day if you personally invited me over.” Killian stood by the bookshelf, running his finger along a photo frame of my brothers and me. “Only I don’t feel lucky at all.” He turned and leaned back, folding his arms.

“My fight isn’t with you,” I repeated what I said the other night. Killian was volatile and a hotheaded motherfucker, but he was decent enough that I still considered him my cousin.

“Is that so?” He grinned, crossing his legs. “Met your girl today. She was very sweet…”

“Stay away from her,” I warned before he could continue.

“Fine.” He chuckled. “Can you tell me why I’m here? Because I don’t want to spend an extra minute of my day looking at your face.”

“Take a seat.” I waved a hand, heading to my chair. “And make us both a drink.”