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The smile didn’t linger long. Kieran wasn’t sure they were equipped to handle a witch. But then, he didn’t make the decisions, and he’d barely paid attention to the briefing. They had a single — relatively — soundproof room to stuff him in. They’d managed to get a collar to block his magic, and they possessively guarded chains that could hold even vampires and werewolves. Kieran had a very limited supply of sedatives as a last resort, but that was dangerous at best.
At first, Kieran only muttered irritably when he saw the collared witch chained in the far corner of the cellar. The heavy manacles that went with the chains could supposedly hold even a shifted werewolf, assuming the fucking walls could handle it. The heavy links forced their captive to sit up against the wall without giving him much room to wiggle around.
The witch lifted his head, and Kieran’s heart stopped. Distantly, he was aware that Wren was talking, but he didn’t hear a word she said. For the first time ever, he knew their prisoner — and he knew their prisoner well, for all that it had been years since they’d last laid eyes on one another.
Romulus.
His eyes locked onto the witch’s, then he was falling, lost in hazel eyes he hadn’t seen in a decade and a half, eyes he’d once dreamed about.
His brother’s eyes, bleary and unfocused as they were.
No. Not brother; he couldn’t afford to think about him as someone that close. They weren’t related by blood, and even though Kieran couldn’t remember life without Romulus and his mother around… He needed that distance to avoid thinking about the witch as his little brother. Romulus was his stepbrother, one he hadn’t even seen in years and a witch.
Nothing more.
She elbowed him, and he jerked his head up. “Don’t fall asleep while I’m briefing you,” she said with a huff.
Kieran closed his eyes tightly, wondering how the fuck he’d missed the very important detail of their captive’s name. He’d stopped listening at “witch whore” because it shouldn’t have mattered which one it was. He’d obviously been wrong. Then again, they were all the same, so they may not have even mentioned the name at all.
It seemed impossible. Romulus had never seemed like the type to be someone’s bitch. Kieran hadn’t thought he was anything like the sluts and whores who appeased the more powerful in exchange for an easy life of protection and privilege — for as long as it would last, anyway.
Then again, he had never known his little stepbrother liked men. Fucking a notorious arms dealer didn’t seem to match up what he knew about Romulus. Maybe, just maybe, all of that was because he hadn’t seen him since they were teenagers.
“Did you hear a word I said?” Wren asked him, and he opened his eyes to see her glare leveled on him.
Romulus kept looking at him, staring even, and Kieran grew increasingly on edge. Had his brother recognized him, or did he look very different now?
Romulus didn’t. Older, stronger, a lot taller, but—
Still reeling, he didn’t even bother to lie. “No,” he admitted freely. “I’m… I’m not fully awake yet.” He blinked dramatically at Wren, like that was going to prove his words. It wasn’t, of course, but it helped him avoid meeting his brother’s gaze.
“Neither is he, so listen,” she insisted, grabbing him by the chin. She turned his face, forcing him to look at her properly. “He doesn’t know what’s happening with Franklin’s gift, so…”
Kieran nodded mutely. She didn’t have to remind him of how wary she was of the collar’s potency or how aware they both were of just how handy being a magical black hole was.
Go, go, gadget guinea pig.
“Right.” Kieran nodded more emphatically as he struggled to get his thoughts in order.
Fuck, he needed sleep.
“Okay. Go, before he wakes up and has the chance to hurt someone,” he added, not sure if being alone with his stepsibling would be better or worse. He wouldn’t have as much desperately needed distraction without Wren there, but his secret would be safe. It was a double-edged sword, and he was poised on a razor-sharp edge.
Romulus continued to squint at him with the glazed look of someone drug-addled as Wren retreated up the stairs and left them alone.
Making sure he wasn’t dying was as good of a start as any. Kieran reached for his chest pocket for his laser light, only to realize his critical error in not putting on his shirt. “It is you, innit…” Romulus slurred into the silence that followed his realization.
Kieran cast a quick look over his shoulder at the door to make sure Wren had shut it and reminding himself that the room was practically soundproof. “Who?” he asked. Maybe, through some miracle, Romulus believed he was someone else entirely.
“Kier, don’ fuck wi-with me.” His stepsibling tried to yank at the bonds, but they weren’t going to give way to anything as feeble as a witch. “Wha’s goin’ on? Why’m I…?” Romulus continued to mutter and slur. If he could even wonder about any of it, the sedation was starting to wear off.
Damn it. He still hadn’t figured out what to do.
Kieran had dealt with prisoners before, and he hadn’t always been the good guy. But none of them had been someone he’d known, let alone someone he’d grown up with. “Shut up,” he mumbled lamely, his chest aching with the sheer weight of his conflicting emotions.
Right. He was supposed to make the witch try to use his magic — not someone he’d cared about, not someone he’d grown up with, not someone he knew. Definitely not his brother. Just… the witch.
He didn’t want to test it yet, though; if he tried now and it worked, he wouldn’t know if it was the collar or drugs holding his magic back.
