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“Copeland family is off-limits!” Tim snarls, his body growing with adrenaline. His palm bleeds, collateral damage from the broken glass, but he stands over our brother and grits, “That means Minka. It means Aubree. It means Mia. It meansanyonewe consider more important than you.”
“You didn’t have to hit me!”
“Well, you can be a little slow sometimes, Lix. Not stupid,” he amends. “Just insanely oblivious. So I want you to look into my eyes when I tell you this for the last time: they’re not for you to discuss. They’re not for you to even think about. Don’t talktothem. Don’t talkaboutthem. Just forget they fucking exist.”
Slowly, with rage pulsing from his every pore, Tim looks to Cato. “You’re not as arrogant as him, but this is a warning for you too: don’t get any ideas about following in his footsteps.”
Cato’s smarter than Felix, so he sits back in his chair, lifts his hands in surrender, and clamps his lips shut.
Appeased, Tim looks over to me. “Figure out an alternative way to deal with Pastore, or we’re gonna have to crash his party and risk retaliation from Cordoza himself. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to survive long enough to go back to Copeland and make things right with the girls. But following any plan Felix makes is a guaranteed waynotto live.”
Having effectively kicked Felix while he’s down, he stalks toward the house.
“He’s cranky.” Bleeding from his face and sprawled on the ground, Felix runs his thumb through a long line of crimson dribbling along his cheek, then brings it between his lips to suck the mess away. “When was the last time he got laid? Because I don’t remember him being this rude all the time.”
“Swear to god.” With a shake of my head, I move toward the house too. Because Felix can’t be reasoned with. He can’t be convinced to shut his damn mouth even to save his own life. “I’m never coming back here again,” I say loud enough for them both to hear. “Never again. This place is Hades.”
“You’re grumpy too!” he cackles. “Copeland has made you soft, bruh. Cato?” he turns his attention to the final remaining Malone. “Have you ever fucked three women at once while four dudes watched?”
“What?” The youngest, and somehow, the most mature of our group, pushes up from his seat and follows me to the house. “You’re so stupid sometimes, Lix. Clean up the glass—and don’t let me find out you made one of the maids do it.”
* * *
My day sprints away faster than is fair, all because the sun comes up hours before my body is accustomed to functioning. Breakfast passes, and it feels like the middle of the night. Lunch comes and goes, and my stomach is only just waking up enough to consider coffee. Now dinner has arrived, Felix is still a pest, Tim alternates between anger and silence, Cato is never around, and Minka… won’t answer my texts.
“You’ve got Minka Mayet. Leave a message at the beep, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
Beep.
I drop my face into my hand, my head drooping low, and my heart… is just fucking tired.
“Hey.” Quietly, I descend the stairs in a house that has dozens of bodies inside it, but next to no noise coming from anywhere. It’s like a funeral home in here. “It’s just me, Mayet. You haven’t replied to any of my messages all day, which is kinda scaring me. Did you take our fight out of the box and now you’re mad? Or are you busy? Sick? Injured?”
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and stop barely short of biting, purely so I can feel something other than the deep pit in my stomach. “You should be running with energy today because of the infusion last night, so I don’t think you’re home sleeping or sick. Which means you’re probably working. And maybe having our fight without me. Don’t say anything that’ll hurt your own feelings,” I murmur.
Stepping off the staircase, I turn right and move toward the kitchen. My footsteps echo on tile, and my ears ring with the eerie silence.
“Don’t dig my hole deeper without giving me a chance to fix things. I, uh…” I head into the kitchen and find it empty. “I spent the day with my brothers at the house. Things are still, ya know, quiet here. But we have something coming up that’ll maybe redirect things.”Or get us killed. “I really want to talk to you before then. We have things to discuss, and I’m pretty much done with speaking to your voicemail. Call me, okay?”
I move out of the kitchen and head toward the living room. “I know it’s still afternoon in Copeland, so you’re working. But don’t leave me hanging all night. I’m tired as hell, and being this far away from you is torture. Turns out, I’ve got a fucking battery pack inside me; when I’m near you, it’s charged and full. But now I’m away, I’m running on empty.”
Pausing in the living room, I find the fireplace burning, and a half-empty snifter of whiskey beside a wingback chair. It’s like my father was in here just today, living his life and running his empire.
Not possible, I know. He’s dying, and he’s already beyond the shitting-himself phase of death. In reality, that alcohol probably belongs to Felix.
“Anyway,” I say to Minka’s voicemail, knowing I’m about to be cut off. “You said some stuff last night while you were dozing off that’s kinda got me worried. So call me back and let’s talk it out. If you make a move before we do that, I’m gonna be pissed. I love you.” I circle out of the room and speak faster because I don’t want to be cut off mid-sentence. “Talk to you soon. If you don’t call me back in the next couple hours, I’m gonna—”
Beeeeeep.
“Come find you,” I finish on a sigh.
Lowering my phone, I lock the screen and slip the device into my pocket, then I stop in front of the room where my father is being kept.
He has nurses and maids. Machines to help him breathe, and others that supply him with nutrition and water. They’re prolonging his agony at this point, keeping him just strong enough to remain alive, but the pain is surely torturous. The cancer eating him from the inside out. The disease, rotting him away one blood vessel at a time.
He probably wishes to be dead, but his pride won’t allow him to check out until he has no other option.
Taking a deep breath, I reach down and twist the knob to open the door, then I head inside in silence. The only sound that fills the room is thebeep-beep-beepof the machines. I keep my footsteps light. My movements quiet. Then I turn away from the door and jump two feet into the air when I find Tim sitting beside the bed, his body pointed toward our father, his ankle resting on his knee and his hand wrapped around a gun.
