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“They wanted you!” I yell, storming away from him. “Block did, at least. And every time he…did what he did, he made sure I knew he could get to you if I didn’t cooperate.” With my back to him, I tear my shirt off so he can see my tattoo. “And Brine, thekindpriest,” I sneer. “He made sure to whip me numb because that was the only way he could get his rocks off.” I reach over my shoulder and point to my back. “The ink hides the evidence well, but not so well that you can’t see it if you care to look.”
The air is thick, so thick that breathing is almost the equivalent of suffocating. My chest heaves with my fury, but I bite my tongue so the rest of my thought doesn’t escape.
Apple cared enough to look.
“Paul, I didn—”
“Malice,” I snarl. “My. Name. Is. Malice.” I suck in a shuddering breath. “Paul died a long time ago.”
Mark’s bare feet slap against the floor as he walks toward me. I stiffen, but don’t turn around. I’m strong, stronger than most, but even I have a breaking point. Apparently, revealing the deepest, darkest parts of me to my own kin, having him scrutinize the dirtiest parts of my past, is it.
“I didn’t know, Malice,” he says quietly. “I must’ve… I don’t know, blocked it out, I guess.”
“And now you know.” I put my shirt back on and do the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life… I face him. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
Mark averts his gaze and narrows his eyes to slits. “Let’s just say, Brine and Block aren’t who I thought you were going after that night.”
Like the brother I am, both by blood and by bond, rage sweeps through me at what he’s saying without actually saying it.
“Who?” I demand in a clipped tone.
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“It fucking matters, Mark,” I snap. “Give me a name.”
He returns his gaze to mine. “Malice, I’m… Fuck, I’m so sorry about what you went through, what they did to you. I really am. And grateful.” He smirks, but it’s full of self-hatred. “I… you suffered to protect me. But…” He shakes his head. “It didn’t work. I suffered too.” Mark turns and stalks back to the wall, punching it. “Fuck!”
“Who?” I ask again. “I’ll fucking kill ‘em. I’ll hunt ‘em down and end their goddamn miserable lives.”
Mark huffs out a breath. “I’m a grown man, Malice. I can handle my own demons.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“Yeah, I should.” He faces me again. “I was so damn angry when I thought you’d killed the wrong men. I couldn’t understand why you’d do that and then leave me to continue to suffer.” He shrugs. “Now that I know the truth, I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if we’d talked more back then, if we’d confided our shame to each other.” Mark takes several deep breaths before continuing. “But we can’t go back. We can’t change what happened. And as hard as the truth is to hear, I’m glad you told me. It explains so fucking much. But…”
“But what?” I prod.
“I’m not ready to talk about, well… I’m just not ready.”
The protector in me wants to scream at him to talk, to unburden himself and let me take his pain away, but the man in me, the survivor in me, respects his decision. I have to respect it because it’s what I did.
“You don’t have to suffer in silence,” I say. “You’re not alone.”
“Yeah? How’d that work foryou?”
“Touché,” I say with a chuckle. “But seriously, bro, you’ve got a lot of people at your back now. I know you’ve had Apple, and she’s great, but she’s not your only family.”
“It’s been a long time since you’ve called me that.”
“What?”
“Bro. And family. It’s, um…”
“Nice,” I finish for him.
“Yeah.”
Shit, this is hard.
