Shiloh had been six. Malachi ten. Micah fourteen. That was when everything had gone from barely tolerable to hellscape.
“I’m not placating?—”
That was as far as Shiloh got before Micah’s fist connected with his stomach, bringing him to his knees once more. Micah’s fingers twisted into Shiloh’s hair until he cried out. He grabbed at his brother’s wrist instinctively, half-hoping his hair didn’t come out at the roots, but also wishing it would so the pain would stop. Micah started to drag him along the floor.
“How about we go play on the roof?”
“Please, no…” Shiloh begged, his sneakered feet scrambling for purchase on the tile floor as if doing so could prevent what came next. “Micah, not the roof. Please…please…I’ll do anything. I’ll get your gun back…please…”
“Save your energy, baby brother. You’re going to need it,” Micah said. To one of the men who now followed behind them, he added, “Get the rope.”
Shiloh gasped. Maybe he really was going to kill him this time. The thought made him feel almost peaceful. He closed his eyes and thought about Levi and his patient eyes and soft lips.
At least he’d gotten a kiss first.
“He said he was there to kill you?”
Levi nodded, sitting stiffly on Jericho’s super comfy couch in his penthouse apartment across town. It wasn’t the white couch they used to have; nothing about the apartment was really the same as before. The blankets were gone, the walls were painted. The place looked more…lived in? The new couch was much darker, probably to hide all the stains from spilled drinks and grubby little hands.
Outside, the sun was just starting to rise, painting the sky in pinks, oranges, and yellows. Levi had come straight from work just as Jericho had asked. But he’d had two hours to think about everything that had happened, and now, he was more worried for Shiloh than ever. What would happen to him when he returned home without having completed his job?
“Yeah, he said his brother wanted to send you a message.”
Jericho’s husband, Atticus, sat in one of the chairs opposite the sofa, arms crossed, his expression mutinous. “How exactly would your dead body have sent a message to Jericho? Was heplanning on leaving a calling card like some supervillain? Was he going to send a flower bouquet with a confession to your funeral? Send up a beacon in the night sky like Batman? Who is this moron?”
People could say what they wanted about Atticus, but he sure never pulled any punches. You always knew where you stood with him. He seemed slightly more cranky than usual, but maybe that was because of Levi’s three-thirty wake up call. He seemed alert enough to have been up for some time but was still wearing pajama pants and one of Jericho’s t-shirts, his red hair messy.
At first, Levi had thought Atticus was kind of an asshole—which, to be fair, he was—but he’d grown on him and on all of Jericho’s boys. Maybe because it was obvious how much Jericho loved him or maybe it was how protective Atticus was over all of them, even when they weren’t super nice to him. Either way, Levi respected the man. He’d saved their asses—and fed their asses—more than once.
“Easy, Freckles,” Jericho murmured, sitting on the arm of the chair, petting a hand over his husband’s bedhead.
Levi hadn’t really considered any of what Atticus said. Maybe therewasgoing to be some kind of calling card? It was hard to say because the plan had been thoroughly ruined. “I don’t know, man, but I do know that kid’s in trouble. His brother was slapping him and shoving him, and it definitely wasn’t the first time. He was really scared.”
Jericho grimaced. “Did he say anything else that might help you identify him?”
“All he said was his name was Shiloh and his brother was making him do this,” Levi said, shaking his head.
He should have tried harder to get some kind of identifying information out of him. Instead, he’d kissed him. He touched his lips. It was a really good kiss, too. Shiloh was so…submissive.Deep down, Levi knew that submission probably came from years of trauma, but his dick wasn’t getting the message.
Was it wrong that he wanted Shiloh to be submissive for him? He’d never hurt him. He’d never take advantage. He’d treat him like he was supposed to be treated. And he sure as shit wouldn’t let his fuckwad brother ever lay a finger on him again.
Levi blinked when he realized Jericho was snapping his fingers in front of his face. “What?” he asked dully, realizing that Jericho had asked him a question.
“Did you bring the security footage like I asked?” Jericho repeated.
Levi nodded, pulling the thumb drive from his pocket, then hesitated.
Jericho frowned at him. “What’s the problem?”
Levi’s gaze slid away from the couple. “Who exactly is going to see this footage?”
“Calliope, us,” Atticus said. “We’re not going to show the cops if that’s what you’re worried about.”
That wassonot what he was worried about. Fuck. Calliope was in their group chat. If she saw this, she’d tell everybody. How she’d even gotten into the group chat was a mystery. Maybe she’d just inserted herself one day and they’d never noticed. Shewasa hacker. If she could hack government agencies, surely, she could have invited herself into their group chat.
But if she watched the footage, she’d see Levi kissing Shiloh. She would definitely tell the others. When Jericho saw it, he was going to have questions. At the very least, he would tease him. And then tell the others. If Calliope didn’t beat him to it. Which she probably would. And then Atticus would tell his brothers. And if he didn’t, Noah would. Why did he have to have the world’s most gossipy friends?
“What’s the problem?” Jericho asked again.
