“We all know you’re not going to touch her,” Aidan says, finally breaking the simmering tension between Liam and me. My hot-headed little brother coming in as the voice of reason in this situation—who would have thought? “But now what? You’ve got the two of them locked up here. Your issues with Briar aside, Remi is innocent; punishing Briar only hurts Remi in the end.”
“I missed everything,” I mutter, my throat raw, finally meeting Aidan’s eyes.
His hard stare softens before he speaks again. “Then don’t miss another second. You can’t get those years back, but you can damn well decide what kind of father you’re going to be now.”
Silence hangs heavy in the room, the truth staring me right in the face.
They’re right.
“I’ll deal with the kid—Remi,” I say finally. My voice is hard, final. “Buther? Briar made her choice when she kept the truth from me. She betrayed my trust when she sold us out to Giovanni. She doesn’t get another chance.”
Aidan’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. I hear Liam mutter something under his breath, but I let it go, stalking for the stairs leading to the guest room on the upper level, since apparently, I’m staying the fucking night.
77
PANCAKES
KOEN
It’s early,but seeing as I can’t sleep, I decide to get an early jump on breakfast.
A quick glance at the clock shows it’s about five thirty a.m. I leave the lights off in the kitchen, the dim glow from the rising sun illuminates the kitchen just enough to see.
I started cooking breakfast for the family just after our mother left; our father didn’t handle it well. He spent most of his time out of the house, seeing to mob business, and leaving me in charge of the family.
It was my responsibility to keep them in line.
Keep themsafe.
He’d offered to hire cooks or maids, but I didn’t trust them. I didn’t want strangers inside our home or anywhere near my siblings, and besides, I enjoy cooking. The slow monotony and normalcy of the routine grounds me.
Even now, the turmoil inside my head quiets as I pull out the eggs, ham, and cheese—deciding to keep it simple today with omelettes. There is still so much work to do after everything that went down the other night. Giovanni’s gone underground. I have my men out scouring the streets for both him, and Volkov, too.
Needing more cheese for the omelettes, Ihead for the fridge, grabbing the cheese and closing the door, but as I go to turn back to the stovetop, I freeze.
The tiniest flicker of motion catches my eye. So small, it’s possible I imagined it, a trick of the light even, in the stairwell leading from the lower level to the kitchen.
I move slowly, carefully placing the cheese on the counter and reaching for a knife from the block on the island. Pulling open the drawer just below me, I casually rifle through the silverware in there to cover me while I keep my eyes on the doorway.
I left my gun in the guest room.
The house is well-protected—well-guarded—and I’d doubled the guards since the Volkov’s attack, but while the odds of an intruder are low, they’re never impossible.
A shadow shifts in the hall, and my spine goes rigid, my hand tightening on the knife. But just as I go to step around the island to face this intruder head-on, a pair of round green-brown eyes peek quickly around the corner.
They catch me looking, and disappear just as quickly as they appeared.
I freeze.
Remi.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I slide the knife back into the block as I debate what to do. I reach back, bringing my bowl of eggs over to the island so I can monitor the stairs while I work. As I go back to whisking the eggs, I see her—from the corner of my eye—peeking in again.
Curious eyes scan the kitchen, keeping one eye on me the whole time. When I dip out of view to pull out the salt, she darts inside, hiding behind one of the chairs at the kitchen table.Watching me.
She inches closer when I pull out the pancake mix.
“Hey Remi,” I say casually, “do you like pancakes?”
