Waking up between them in the pre-dawn darkness, their breathing steady around me. The weight of Jace’s arm across my waist, possessive even in sleep. Cal’s face buried in my hair, a small smile playing at his lips like he was dreaming something beautiful.
And Silas... Silas was frowning in his sleep, brow furrowed, jaw clenched like he was fighting demons even in dreams. A small sound escaped him, barely audible, but it sounded like pain. Like fear. My chest ached watching him battle whatever shadows lived in his head.
Static whispers from the phone. I strain to catch more of that voice, the one that used to call me firefly like it was a prayer, like a promise. But Charles shifts, the speaker angles away, and all I hear is my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
I couldn’t help myself. I cupped his cheek, thumb smoothing over that furrow between his brows, and pressed the softest kiss to his lips. Just a whisper of touch. Immediately, his face relaxed, the tension melting away. He turned into my palmlike a flower seeking sunlight, and for a moment, he looked peaceful. Young. The boy I remembered before life carved him into something harder.
That’s when I knew I had to leave. Not because I regretted what we’d done, but because I understood what it meant. They needed each other, their brotherhood, their unbreakable bond. I was the variable that could destroy it all. Even if I could make Silas’s nightmares disappear with a touch, I couldn’t be worth the cost of their family.
When he hangs up, the cabin fills with cartoon soundtracks and engine hum. Too loud with my silence.
I clear my throat, trying my best to crawl my way back to the present. “How are they?” I ask, voice too smooth, too carefully disinterested. “Jace and Cal and Silas?”
“Good. Different, but good.” Charles stretches into leather that probably costs more than most cars. “Jace runs enforcement now—restructured it, made it look legitimate. Contracts and uniforms, but underneath, still a sharpened blade. Cal took over anything with wires—cyber, comms, keeping us ahead of federal interest. Silas is still...” He pauses, searching. “Silas. Information extraction. Problem solving. Making examples.”
“Like Riverside,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Yeah. Guy tried to renegotiate after signing. Sy made the decision easy.” Charles studies me with those familiar green eyes. “You keeping tabs from LA?”
“Only when it bleeds into my feed.” Not quite a lie.
He exhales slowly, weighted. “After my wedding, they changed. Jace got colder. Silas started volunteering for every violentcleanup. Cal had a stretch where he wasn’t himself.” His fingers drum against leather. “Did you know they had eyes on you?”
My stomach drops. “What kind of eyes?”
“Found a mirrored drive when I was purging servers. Your name on the root folder. Cal’s work, but under Jace’s credentials.” He watches my face. “Logs. Geo tags. Photos from security cameras that shouldn’t aggregate. Timestamps going back to college, then LA. A couple of years’ worth.”
The air feels thinner. “Personal surveillance.”
“Jace said it was an old oversight from Dad. Said he meant to delete it.” Charles’s voice gentles. “He wiped everything while I watched. You were safe—that’s all that mattered.”
Safe. The word sits heavy because I can hear ghosts inside it—Cal with keyboards and bent conscience, Jace with passwords and promises he kept for reasons never spoken aloud.
“Something was off back then,” Charles continues. “You disappearing hit them harder than they admitted.”
“Can’t see why. They were your friends, not mine.”
“Don’t say that, Parks. They cared about you.” He leans forward. “After my wedding, I thought maybe something happened, but nobody said anything.”
“Nothing happened.” The lie lands soft as feathers, loud as gunshots. “I packed and flew out the next day.”
Noah peels off headphones, amber eyes finding mine like compass needles. “Mommy, are you sad?”
“No, baby.” I dry my cheeks with my sleeve. “Happy to be going home.”
The seatbelt chime sounds. Through windows, coastline spreads like promises and warnings—inlets, marsh light, the silver river curling behind the Carter estate like a sleeping guard dog.
“Welcome home,” Charles says, like something sacred.
Outside, three black SUVs wait with engines warm. In the distance, barely visible against the backdrop of old money and older secrets, I catch a glimpse of movement. Three figures too far away to distinguish, but my body knows anyway—recognizes the particular way they hold space, the gravity they create just by existing.
My mouth tastes like copper and sugar. The air smells like salt and cut grass. Thunder rumbles somewhere too distant to be certain if it’s coming closer.
I tell myself I’m ready. I tell myself I’m tired of running. I tell myself the truth weighs less than lies.
The door opens to heat and brightness, to summer that smells like reckless youth and consequences I’m finally ready to face.
16
