“Sir, please step aside,” Stevens tells his mayor as he walks Lucas out.
“Lucas!” I call as he’s ripped from my arms.
“What the fuck is going on?” Jared blusters as Jax jumps on his phone.
I run down the steps after Lucas, but he glances back at Madoc. “Take her home.” He gestures to me. “It’s not safe here.”
I shake my head.Like hell. I’m not going anywhere with my brothers after what they just did.
“Hey, leave him alone!” someone calls out.
They lead Lucas to their police car.
“He didn’t do it,” someone else shouts. “I did it.”
“Nah, it was me!” another voice chimes in.
The officers stop, looking around at the Rebel crowd.
“Anyone else we need to bring in while we’re here?” they ask Lucas.
But he just shakes his head. “No.”
Farrow runs up, but a cop holds out his hand, pointing a finger in his face as a warning.
“Quinn won’t go with Madoc,” Lucas tells him. “Stay close.”
“Don’t worry about anything,” Farrow tells him.
Lucas stops at the open door of the cop car. Tall with his chin up, he peers back at Madoc.
Then, he looks at me.
I love you, he mouths.
And then he disappears into the car, gone in seconds.
Madoc
The heat that made my brain feel like it was on fire an hour ago has moved into my chest, anger now replaced with fear.
My God, this was why he left eight years ago. I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror, phones ringing out in the police station where damn-near our whole fucking family sits and waits. The water I’d splashed on my face drips off my skin, back into the sink.
How did I not know that something was wrong?
I mean, I knew something was wrong. Why didn’t I press him? Chase him down? Stop him from running? Bring him back?
Why was it so easy to believe he was just some kid being rebellious? I did everything I could to escape my house—my pain—when I was younger, how did I not see that he was doing the same damn thing?
Shit, part of me even thought I’d been suffocating him and he just needed space. I wasn’t his dad, and I started to wonder if he was sick of us.
“Jared, Jax…” I spit out at myself in the mirror. “Their kids are no trouble. Why don’t mine just fucking talk to me?”
Tears spring up, and I bow my head, gripping the sink. Shame replaces the fear. I’m not built for self-pity. I clear my throat and grab some paper towels, wiping my face clean.
“James is definitely going to fuck with Jared someday.” I fix my hair, being more realistic now. “Dylan already nearly gave him a heart attack. That was funny. And Hawke is a late bloomer. There’s still time for him to be a hassle to Jax.”
I won’t be the only one trying to wrangle my damn kids.
