The brothers bicker and laugh. Such warmth and love. Things that don’t belong in my life.
A weight presses down on me as I slip toward the door. Before I can leave, it suddenly swings open and in barrels Belle, Maxwell’s wife, balancing their preschooler, Levi, on her hip.
“Elias!” She beams and squeezes my arm. “You’re a hard man to find. Dinner next week at our place, okay? Don’t be a loner.”
The invisible chasm throbs behind my sternum. “I don’t do family dinners, Belle. Last I checked, I’m not an Anderson.”
“Nonsense. You’re one of us now, especially after helping us so many times.” She winks, then turns to her son, who Lana claims is her favorite nephew. The beguiling woman has stars in her eyes whenever she’s around her nieces and nephews. She’d be a wonderful mother someday.
And a wife to a lucky bastard.Never you. Of course not. You hate her.
Belle asks, “Levi, we want Uncle Elias at the dinner, right?”
Levi gives me a toothy grin and nods.
“We shall see.” A lump forms in my throat.
My phone buzzes, and I glance at it.
Bishop Seb
Case closed. Gas leak from busted pipe. You’re clear. The chessboard is ready. Time for step two?
Step two—join The Association, the dark side. I bite my cheek, relishing the lash of pain, and type a response.
Rook Elias
Yes.
“Just give it up, Eli, step into the light, come to the dinner,” Rex hollers.
Without answering him, I nod at Belle, barely mustering a smile. She stares at me expectantly, her gaze trusting. Levi hands me the piece of paper he has in his hand.
It’s a crayon drawing of a T-Rex holding a lighter and a little boy. The words “Unkle E” are scrawled on top.
Red crayon. His favorite.
“Maxwell said he was meeting you here. Levi insisted he wanted to draw you something.” Belle kisses her son’s face.
I ruffle his hair, my chest on fire.
For a moment, I’m reminded of my childhood, my parents smiling at each other—their love steadfast and unshakable—Dad playing peekaboo with little Beatrice.
Before The Association burned it all down.
Sliding my hand into my pocket, I grip my lighter and leave the room.
I glance at my watch to see how much time has elapsed.
Twenty-eight minutes of lies. In another life, this might’ve been my future. Family. Kids. Light.
Just not this one.
Chapter 7: TERMS OF DAMNATION
One Week Later, Chicago, Illinois
“The infamous Elias Kentgraces us with his presence. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
