“Jeremiah also said your IQ was above average and that you’re super smart. Just because nobody ever taught you doesn’t mean you can’t be taught. I’m good at math and numbers, but I’m terrible at reading and history, and I went all the way through high school, barely making a C in my core classes. All those boring facts about dead people who only seemed to make things worse. I don’t care about Poland in the thirties.”
Ever smiled at the disgust in his voice. As if that lesson in particular had been the final straw to kill Arsen’s love of history. “I just want to know what everybody else does.”
“We’re all just faking it,besenok. You know as much as the rest of us. The math they taught us in school? I’ve never needed it once. You can learn addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. Everything else was a waste. None of us knew the important things like filing taxes or creating a budget. They didn’t teach us how to be adults, just how to sit quietly in a room for eight hours for little to no reward. You’re not nearly as behind as you think you are. But I can and will teach you whatever you want to know…except history. I won’t do it.”
Ever smiled. “Okay.” Something else occurred to him then. “Will I get to keep my first name when I get my new birth certificate?”
“I don’t see why not?” Arsen said. “In two days, there won’t be enough people left from your old life to matter. Only us.”
Ever dropped a kiss on Arsen’s chest. “What about my last name? Will they just pick a random one for me?”
Arsen was quiet for a bit. “It doesn’t matter what your last name is.”
Ever frowned. “Why?”
“Because eventually it will be mine.”
Arsen gave Ever one long, last look, then kissed his hair and slipped out of bed. He would be upset when he woke to find Arsen gone, but it had taken so long to get Ever to sleep that Arsen just couldn’t bring himself to wake him now that he was sleeping so hard, starfished on his stomach, mouth open, drooling adorably onto Jericho’s guest pillow.
Arsen shoved his legs into the sweatpants he’d left pooled on the floor and pulled on a hoodie, not bothering to zip it up. The others were already gathered, scattered around the living room, likely waiting on him. They could wait another minute. He walked to the kitchen and poured himself a black coffee, taking a sip and wincing as the bitter liquid burned its way down.
After another sip, he shuffled back to the others, not sitting on the couch but on the arm, looking out over the sea of faces. Asa and Avi sat side by side on the couch with Seven, Lake, and Cree stuffed in beside them, not looking terribly upset by the close proximity.
Felix was on the floor in a pair of flowy black pants and a tank top, cleaning his nails with a butterfly knife. Zane lay between his legs, head on his thigh. Arsen couldn’t imagine trusting anyone enough to have a blade dangling over his head like that, but Zane was unfazed.
Other than Felix, everyone else looked like they’d crawled out of bed and headed straight to Jericho’s living room. Most were in sweats and t-shirts. All but Levi. He wore his uniform from the convenience store, having likely come from work. Nico sat on the floor with Levi, staring up at Jericho and Atticus expectantly.
“What’s the word?” Seven finally asked. “Did you talk to Daddy?”
Arsen’s lips twitched as the others laughed. It was no secret that Seven had taken a liking to the Mulvaney patriarch. The fact that the man was married really hadn’t slowed his crush any.
Atticus nodded. “I did. He brought up something that hadn’t occurred to me yesterday during our initial meeting, though it should have. Traffickers have victims. Victims often stashed away in places where they are totally dependent on their captors.”
Arsen’s stomach clenched. Why hadn’t that occurred to him? He felt sick at the thought of more kids just like Ever trapped somewhere, waiting to be sent into a life of misery and servitude. “Fuck.”
“He’s not willing to sanction his sons’ participation until he knows if there are victims and where they’re located to ensure their safety.”
“So, what do we do?” Arsen asked.
“We need someone on the inside to talk,” Felix said, like it was obvious.
Maybe it was. Arsen hadn’t been on his game since the fire. Everything had happened so fast that he was still reeling. His mind just kept coming back to what might have happened had Ever not been awake.
“It’s not that easy,” Lake said.
He was right. Gangs only survived by loyalty and that loyalty came from fear. The potential for retaliation from their own members usually trumped getting the shit beat out of them by strangers.
Usually.
Arsen sat forward, dropping his elbows onto his knees before scrubbing his hands over his face. “These guys are hard to break, man. They get jumped into these gangs. They’re beat half to death by their own crew.”
Avi smirked. “I don’t know. We’re pretty persuasive when we need to be.”
“I mean, the last 4Loco shitbag we tortured sang like a fucking canary as soon as a blowtorch was involved,” Seven reminded him.
Arsen winced. That 4Loco shitbag had shown up to kill all of them and had almost gutted Arsen in the process. They’d gotten the jump on him, but just barely, and only because there were far more of them than him and he hadn’t been prepared.
“Yeah, and I still have the scar to prove it,” Arsen said, hand floating to his side without thought.
