“You’ve never felt this way before, with any of the others?” There was a sudden hopefulness to his tone, an expectation I couldn’t give into.
I lifted my gaze to meet his, slowly shaking my head. “I don’t understand why or where this need to protect her came from, it just did.”
I’d diligently performed the sacred ritual as required of me since being initiated into the brotherhood. A requirement of all Sinclair men every five years from the age of fifteen, I might add. A little young from a morality standpoint then again, there was no one to question the brotherhood. Everything we did remained a secret and only a handful of necessary people outside the castle walls were privy to the rituals.
Now, as I stared into the flickering flames, I held back my laugh. Not once had the emotions I felt that night ever risen before. Why now?
“And you don’t want to explore the opportunity?” he pushed. I shook my head. Sighing, he leaned his head against the backrest. “You do understand that was your last chance, don’t you? That it is the end for you?”
“I do.” I made peace with my fate a long time ago.
“I always believed it would be you, son. Always believed that I’d die peacefully knowing my children would—”
“You’re not dying anytime soon,” I said, keeping the annoyance out of my voice. He meant well. “I just failed, that’s all. Michael has two sons and Patrick is still young. He will bear you another grandchild or two. Our legacy will continue,” I said, referring to my brothers, both living abroad in Africa and Australia respectively. We only saw them at family events or the brotherhood rituals.
Father looked at me, and the sadness reflected in those eyes so full of wisdom, spoke to my inner pain. Not for myself but for hurting him and not fulfilling his wish. As the eldest of his three sons, my brothers always joked that my father favoured me over them. But we all knew better.
“What about you, Saint?”
“Perhaps I was never meant to be, Father. Perhaps it wasn’t my destiny to fulfil.” I drained the contents of my glass and had the sudden urge to hurl it into the fire instead I gripped it tighter, the cut crystal digging into my palms.
“I never believed that. I don’t think any of us did.” He took a drink, pulling my gaze. “The day you were born, your grandfather took one look at you and said, ‘he’s the one.’ Because of—”
“My green eyes,” I finished for him, my laugh more sarcastic than mirth. “I’m beginning to think it was utter rubbish.” I’d often questioned the strange phenomenon of being the only green-eyed child born to a family of blue-eyed men for centuries. Perhaps some descendant along the line had also sported my distinct eye colour and no one had made any effort to record that feature. Probably because what they might’ve considered a miniscule detail back then, was bizarre right now.
“Well, think what you must, son.” My father drew me out of my musings. “But the year is...”
“No, Father.” The words came out a lot sterner than I intended. I had to nip his expectations in the bud. “It’s best that you not let this hope fester and enjoy the rest of your life with the grandchildren that deserve your knowledge and attention. You need to start grooming them accordingly. I’m no longer a concern. It all ends tonight for me.” Setting my glass on the side table, I stood. He reached out. Nearing him, I took his hand, feeling the hardened skin of his callouses against mine. I sighed realizing I might’ve been too harsh. “I didn’t mean to hurt you—”
He shook his head cutting me off. “You’re my son, Saint, you’ll never hurt me. I just wanted more for you.”
His eyes met mine and for the first time, I noticed something different in that look. Fear? Defeat? Fatigue? I struggled to find the exact emotion, and something shifted inside me. I dropped to my haunches and his hold immediately tightened around my fingers.
“What is it, father?” When he shook his head dismissing me, I narrowed my eyes. “I know you best, remember and I can see the worry on your face. Speak to me.” We shared a close bond to the point where he valued my opinion, so I found his reluctance strange.
Her stared into the fire for a long moment then sighing, he looked my way again. “Snow is missing.”
It took a few seconds for his words to register. Frowning, I shot up. “I don’t understand. We have the best security in England. How?” I rushed on, tension twisting the tendons in my shoulders. “When?”
“Wilkes seems to think it happened the night after the ritual,” he replied, referring to our head of security.
“This can’t be happening,” I muttered pacing the open space in front of the fire. “This could literally be the end not just for me but—”
“The entire brotherhood,” he finished, on a dismal tone then slowly rose from his seat.
I stopped pacing to look at him. My father was usually a tall, imposing figure and a force to be reckoned with, when crossed. Yet despite the blood of royalty running through our veins, he’d never considered himself a man above others. A shrewd businessman, he was still regarded as fair, honourable and loved by friends, family and his employees. Now though, he looked so disheartened as though he’d failed the entire brotherhood, I silently cursed understanding his pain. He came from a line of nine brothers and after the death of the oldest, my father took his place as the eldest of the remaining brothers and shouldered the family responsibilities. They all looked to him for guidance or decisions.
This news would bring chaos and probably kill him if not physically, then through mental fatigue. Over my dead fucking body. I clenched my fingers to restrain my anger. There’d be plenty of time to vent to the appropriate culprits. “Has there been any news?”
Slowly, he nodded. “There’s been a leak. How true, I cannot be sure at this stage. Someone will have—”
“Where?” I cut him off quickly.
“San Francisco.”
I frowned. “Why the States?” I rubbed my chin, my mind working overtime. “I’ll leave at once.” I was already striding toward the door when he stopped me.
“Son?” I paused midstride and turned to look at him. “Winthrop High.”
