“Fuck them up. You deserve your chance, for taking care of me after… everything went down. And pick some juicy bits to send to Andrea and Ryan with my regards.”
Taylor rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, pretending to sound put out even as he caught the tire iron before it hit the floor. “You don’t owe me, or anyone else, a damn thing. We’re family, and we stick together. But,” he eyed Elio with a hungry look. “If you insist, it wouldn't be much of a chore to finish them off.” Taylor propped the iron against his leg to roll his sleeves upto the elbows. Elio watched with increasing panic as he stretched his neck left to right and shrugged as if loosening up, while Gabriele’s eyes began to go glassy with unshed tears. "I'll take care of the clean up. You go check on your mate."
My last glance of my personal nightmare was over my shoulder, watching them shrink into themselves when Taylor stepped closer. I lifted my hand to wave at the members loitering around the warehouse. Two fell into step and followed me out to the parking lot toward our bikes, leaving behind the muffled screams and heavythwacksas it fell shut again. One of them handed over the jacket I’d shucked at the beginning of Elio’s session.
My future was with Grant. And I’d be damned if Elio or Gabriele Messina took up one more second of the life I fought so hard to carve out for myself. Good fucking riddance.
Epilogue
Grant, July 2055
Despite the fact that I looked like shit for three weeks, my shifter healing got me back on my feet even faster than the Riot’s doctor expected. He rambled on with speculations about‘a strong mate bond’ and ‘naturally enhanced characteristics to protect each other,’ but I had tuned him out while he had been rattling on at my bedside. I’d never been happier to see anything besides the barren white walls of the treatment room when I busted free from the Red Riot’s clinic to take in the acrid desert Vegas air.
The downside of all that, however, was getting roped into the management of the club itself as soon as I was able to sit upright. Not that I minded the work, but I’d rather trap Lore in her condo for the next week to make up for all the time we’d been apart while I healed. Everything I’d brought with me that came from Andrea had been promptly disposed of, and I didn’t ask Lore too many questions about what happened with Elio. For the first time I could remember since living with the Blacks, I felt like I could actually breathe.
Then, when I thought I had a moment of peace…Taylor mentioned their sister coming to Vegas. We were lounging on one of the black couches set along the edge of the club’s main floor, and I choked on the water I’d been drinking as he cackled loudly. Fortunately, the Merrow was closed for a couple more hours, so no one else was around to watch me attempt to drown.
“How many of you nightmares are there?” I was only half-joking, still coughing and clearing my throat in an attempt to recover.
Taylor threw his head back in a wild guffaw, laughing so hard that tears streamed down his cheeks and his shoulders shook with the force of it. It was a good three or four minutes before Taylor was able to compose himself enough to talk again. “Ah, that’s rich,” he finally sighed, pulling his right hand from where it was jammed in his slacks pocket to wipe the tears away. “To answer your question, there’s only one more sister. Well, half sister to me. She’s Lore’s twin, actually. Identical twin.”
“Shit,” I muttered without thinking. It was a knee-jerk reaction. The fact that there were two of Lore wandering this earth was probably the first sign of the apocalypse.
Taylor cackled again. “You won’t have to worry about her. Lyre is a busy girl. And she’s not into the mob life. Well…” his head rocked back and forth as if unsure of his own assurances. “She’s not into the kind of mob life we are. Arguably, her mob is much scarier. And feral. Lore is definitely the more tame of the two.”
The thought sent a shiver down my spine. Another revelation hit me at the same time. “Wait, Lyre as in the instrument? Like, the harp?”
Taylor, in his defense, had the right to look at me like I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had. “Uh, yeah. Who would name their own kid something like a liar, the person? Not that it was her birth name, anyway. She’s Lyre Brennan, the artist formerly known as Lyria. You know, like Prince.” The joke had Taylor howling in laughter. I didn’t think it was funny, halfway through my own bone-chilling revelation.
I wasn’t going to expose why this information was so disturbing. But going back to the livestream Lore and I were on together, I realized the so-called safeword she told me to use was her sister’s name. What the actual fuck?
Taylor was obviously waiting for some kind of reply. With great reluctance, and more than a little disturbed, I tabled the thought to bring up with Lore later. She owed me some answers about that. “I dread the thought there’s another version of Lore running wild.”
“Yeah,” Taylor’s laugh finally tapered off to a chuckle as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “Her music slaps, though. You may have heard it if you’re into alt rock.”
Now I was even more curious. “Really? Not my scene, but now I want to know more. What’s her band’s name?”
Taylor grinned like a proud brother and pulled his phone out, fingers flying over the screen to unlock it. “Filthy Liars. Hang on, I have all their music.”
Holy shit.
“I know who that is. Not that I listen to them too much, but from what I’ve heard, their music is pretty good.”
I pulled my own phone out to look up the band’s promotional pictures. A wild guitar riff blasted from the tiny speakers on Taylor’s, and he started bobbing his head to the beat. It was an impressive song, one that I’d heard on the radio a few times despite the genre. Finally, one of the band’s pictures from their tour announcement loaded on my screen.
Now that Taylor mentioned the relationship, it was obvious the front woman was Lore’s twin. Not that her face was visible behind a particularly disturbing black-and-gold demonic mask, but the way she posed and the haughty tilt of her head were just like her sister’s, despite their short statures. She stood in the front of a V-formation with two other band members, arms crossed and legs planted shoulder-width apart in a skintight pair of leather pants and some chunky boots, with a simple black tank top, and a man on either side of her gripped her shoulders. Their fingers were adorned with heavy gold rings and streaked with black paint up their arms to the shoulders, covering vibrant tattoos on the men’s arms. The last member crouched in front of her, a hand wrapped around her toned calf, and his head in profile, turned up to look at her from below. All the members wore masks, but there was something about this picture that gave the impression of the men as guardians to Lore’s sister. I could easily imagine protective scowls on their faces.
Lyre’s voice broke through the climbing chords of the electric guitar and complex drums on Taylor’s phone, rumbling and low enough to send goosebumps up my arms. Listening to the song while looking at this picture was an immersive experience. Shedid sound kind of possessed with the way her voice twisted around the lyrics. There was a kind of… menacing quality to it, but at times, a delicate touch in her higher notes. The combination of her voice with the heavy, driving music was very artistic and addictive.
“I can tell she’s very passionate about her music.”
“Yeah,” Taylor agreed. I glanced up to see him staring at his phone with a fond smile as he listened to the song. “Lyre is… she’s pretty amazing. Once she realized Lore was in Vegas, she dropped everything to come live with her and Patty for a while. Lore even helped mix the song the band ended up submitting to the label they signed with.”
“Really?”
Taylor nodded, then silenced the phone. “They’re both more talented than they will let anyone see. I hope you get to meet Lyre someday. They’re tighter than any two siblings I’d ever met, including myself. Given the shit they’ve pulled each other through, I’ve made peace with the fact that we will always have a different relationship.”
The thought of how much the three siblings have been through because of their father made my heart twist with sympathy. Sure, I had a fucked up family history, but for the most part, the Blacks at least made sure I was taken care of. Even though they basically handed me over to Andrea because they thought that was the best use of my self-taught skills. It was either that or end up in jail for fucking over the wrong person online. At least I wasn’t sold off like property. And I was willing to keep their last name. Every legitimate child Ryan McGregor had disowned him and took the name Brennan instead.
