Hooking my arm around him, I pulled him to my chest and started sobbing on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
His entire body trembled as he held me. “I know.”
“Tell me this isn’t real.”
“I can’t,” he whispered, choking on his words. “Liv, I tried so fucking hard to save him. They wanted me. I begged them to stop. I offered to give them Lovelace.”
I lifted my head off his shoulder and ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it off his forehead. “Then why did they kill him?”
“I don’t know. None of this makes sense, Liv. Why capture and torture the three of us, leave us in a cave that could have killed us from the gases alone, and then let Marcello and me live? They got nothing from us. Not even a passcode. And I offered it. Many times. I would have given anything for Tate.”
I believed every word he said. Drake loved Tate like a brother. From the day he brought us home, he treated us as if we were his family.
The rotary blades made a loud whooshing sound as they lifted off from the helipad. Until then, I had paid little attention to our audience. Surrounded by a dozen of Drake’s friends and their families, we were the stars of this fucked-up scenario.
A hint of sadness and remorse was on each of their faces. They all knew Tate. All the men were members of The Devil’s Knights and had embraced my brother as their own.
“I’m exhausted,” Drake mumbled, eyes half-closed, swollen from being punched.
It looked more like someone had beaten him with a bat or bricks. The rough cuts on his tanned skin were deep and would likely get infected if I didn’t keep a close eye on them. My new priority was taking care of Drake.
He needed me.
“Come on,” I said, blinking back tears as I offered him my hand. “Let’s go home.”
Home.
That word sounded weird the second it left my mouth. The Battle Fortress hadn’t been my home since high school. To keep my distance from Drake, I spent four years on campus at Kingston University.
With whatever strength he had left, Drake rose from the ground on shaky legs. It was a miracle he could walk in his condition.
As we walked toward the house, Sonny Cormac slung an arm around Drake. Aiden Wellington took up his right side, giving me a reprieve from dragging his heavy body. I nodded my thanks, and then more tears slid down my cheeks, blurring my vision.
“We got you,” Sonny told Drake. “Just hang on.”
“I’m fine,” Drake slurred.
“No, you’re not,” Aiden said, gripping him tighter. “But you will be. Eventually.”
“Tate’s dead,” he said as if he needed to hear the words aloud. “Tate was my brother. My family.”
“Yeah, we know,” Sonny said, steering him toward the veranda.
“No, you don’t.” Drake shook his head. “Tate was my half-brother.”
His words startled me, nearly knocking me off balance. This could not be right. Drake had told me five years ago that none of us shared blood. The DNA results confirmed it. And if Drake was Tate’s brother, then…
Oh God.
Please, no.
“You’re delirious, man.” Sonny laughed. “Just go home and get some sleep.”
Inside the house, we ran into Alex Salvatore and her four husbands. They stood in the butler’s kitchen, Alex rubbing her pregnant belly with Damian and Luca doting over her. Marcello sipped from a bottle of Pellegrino and leaned into Bastian’s side.
Alex was one lucky girl.
Four of the hottest men I’d ever seen huddled around her like a unit. When she moved even an inch, they went with her, like the planets gravitating around the sun. A slight sense of jealousy stirred in my gut, seeing all four men so devoted to her.
