AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I don’t want to see any of them hurt.
For my part, I try not to think too much. I hang out in Ransom’s room for a while, playing on my phone, then I spend a bit of time hunting down the pieces of clothing and things that have ended up scattered throughout the warehouse.
I take a shower in their bathroom later in the afternoon, running my fingers over their products on the shelves, taking in the little things that stand out for each of them, as if I’m trying to make sure the memories stay in my head. All of this has been so chaotic and strange, and I can’t deny that a part of me is worried that I’ll go back to my regular life and realize this was all a dream or something.
Before, it would have felt like a blessing to discover this was all some nightmare that I could wake up from as if it had never happened. But now…
Now, I think I might miss them. Miss this.
I’m dressed and dry, sitting cross legged on Ransom’s bed when he pokes his head into the room. It’s early evening by now, and my stomach growls, reminding me that after my banana and peanut butter sandwich, I only had an apple for lunch since I didn’t want to disturb Malice and Ransom, who were working in the kitchen for a good chunk of the day.
Ransom grins at the sound, cocking an eyebrow as he glances at my belly.
“Hey, look at that. Perfect timing,” he says. “We ordered a bunch of food to celebrate.”
“What are we celebrating?” I ask, getting up to follow him downstairs.
“We have a name to go with the face, and we’re working on a plan to take Ilya out,” he answers. “That’s reason enough.”
We walk into the kitchen, and the smell of the food makes my stomach growl even louder. There’s a huge spread laid out on the countertops, and I can tell just from the various scents that they’ve gotten dishes from my favorite Indian place.
There’s a big platter of samosas, containers of tikka masala, korma, and butter chicken, and a plate that’s full of nothing but garlic naan. It makes my mouth water just looking at it all, and I shoot Victor a glance, knowing it had to have been him who picked this.
He’s the one who knows everything about me, and he probably saw me order from this place when he was watching me on the cameras. The last time I had it was the night I finally decided to start spending their money, and I can remember rationalizing to myself that I deserved a treat after everything these men had put me through.
It seems fitting in a weird way that we’re having it now.
For some reason, I’m not even really freaked out or pissed off by the idea that Victor used his spying to find out what food I like. It’s almost… sweet, in an odd way.
In a very Victor way, I guess.
“Don’t just stare at it,” Malice grumbles, kicking a chair out from the kitchen table for me. “Eat it. It’s gonna get cold.”
“Okay,” I say, smiling and taking my seat.
Victor passes out plates, and we all load them up with everything, scooping rice from the big container in the center of the counter, then adding the different kinds of curry and grabbing naan.
Everything smells amazing, and I tuck into the food happily, making a soft noise of enjoyment at the spicy, savory flavor.
As we eat, I find myself glancing around the table, watching each of the men as they talk easily amongst themselves. I can clearly picture the three of them having meals like this before. Maybe not this food specifically, but ordering pizza or something, passing the box around and filling their plates.
Like a unit.
Like afamily.
Vic said it’s better to be alone than to be with someone who would hurt you, and after hearing Malice’s story about their dad, I understand why. But the truth is, I don’t think he’ll ever have to be alone—not as long as the two men sitting across the table from him are still alive. They’ll have his back no matter what, and that’s not something a lot of people can say.
The brothers are each so different, but those differences only seem to bind them closer together, rather than forcing them apart.
I watch Victor make neat little quadrants on his plate, keeping all of the curries separate, using the naan to keep from getting anything on his fingers. Ransom just piles it all on, not seeming to care if the korma touches the tikka masala. Malice has a samosa in his hand, and he dips it in what I know is the spiciest sauce, biting into it and not flinching.
Ransom goes back for more butter chicken, and some of the sauce drips between his plate and the container on the table.
“Must you?” Vic grimaces, chewing and swallowing his own neat bite.
“Yup. I must,” Ransom replies, but he cleans up the mess with a smile. “You know I’m always the messy one.”
“No you’re not,” Vic counters. “That’s Malice.”
