Blade spoke through clenched teeth. “I said, let it go.”
There was a moment of tense silence. And then Rade’s voice, low and gravelly, cut through it like a hot knife.
“One of you slept with Scotty.” It wasn’t a question. He knew. Rade always knew. He was unmatched at ferreting out secrets. Good thing he was also unmatched at keeping them. His accusatory, knowing gaze pinned Blade to his cushion like a bug in a display. “Youslept with Scotty.”
“Holy shit,” Sabre said under his breath. “Is he right? You slept with her?”
“I’m not talking about Scotty,” Blade said. “Drop it. I mean it.”
They sat there for a moment, stewing in uncomfortable silence. Then, finally, Sabre cursed. “I don’t think either one of you should takeMasumi’s bond. Not right now.” He took a deep, resigned breath. “So, I guess that leaves me. I’ll let Stryke know.”
Sabre took off, leaving Blade to squirm under Rade’s shrewd stare.
“You’re probably wondering why I was with Scotty,” Blade said. “But—”
“I’m not. I assume it was a matter of life or death, but I don’t give a shit either way.”
“Gotta love your blunt honesty,” Blade muttered. Sometimes, he felt like he was the only one of his triplet brothers with manners.
Stryke also lacked tact, but his arrogance made it a hundred times more infuriating. He knew he was an asshole and didn’t care. Rade knew he was an asshole andcouldn’tcare.
Blade didn’t remember the incident as a baby that had changed Rade’s life—and personality—forever, but he remembered how it had affected their childhood. Rade had been quiet, so quiet that, for a time, their parents worried he’d never speak. But he was always watching, and it wasn’t until Blade overheard Rade talking to Crux a few years ago that he understood.
Crux had been twelve, half-heartedly tossing darts in the backyard of the rural New York home their parents had bought after Stryke, Rade, and Blade moved out of the house where they’d grown up.
Everyone except Stryke was there for their dad’s birthday dinner, and Crux had quietly slipped out after dessert. Blade figured he’d see what was up, but as he took the corner around the tool shed, he saw that Rade had beat him to it.
He couldn’t hear what they were saying at first, but he stopped, feeling like an intruder, the moment their words became clear.
“I feel different since Chaos died,” Crux said, a dart dangling from his fingers, his gaze glued to the grass. “It’s like something’s missing.”
Sems all felt the moment one of their brothers died, and a hole would always remain. But Chaos was Crux’s twin, and they’d been tight. Tighter than Blade had ever been with Rade and Stryke.
“I’ve always felt like something is missing too,” Rade said.
Crux looked up. “Always?”
“Ever since I can remember.”
“Because that bad demon took you when you were a baby?”
“Maybe.”
“What’s missing?”
“Sometimes, I think it might be my soul.” Rade shrugged. “I don’t know. I struggle to feel…anything.”
“You don’t feel anything at all?”
“I sometimes feel anger. But that’s all. So, I watch people to discern what others are feeling and thinking. I’ve never really been happy. Or jealous. Or afraid. The only time I was sad was when Chaos died. I think I can only experience an emotion when it’s extreme. I don’t think I can even love.”
Blade sucked in a harsh breath. How could that be? Rade had parents. Cousins. Brothers. And why would he have admitted it to Crux, who still hadn’t recovered from Chaos’s death just five years ago? Poor Crux. He’d lost Chaos, might as well have lost Stryke, and now he’d learned that Rade didn’t love him.
But Crux had always been wiser than his years, and he took a moment to think about what Rade had said.
“That’s not true,” he said softly. “You loved Chaos. Or you wouldn’t have been in so much pain for so long when he died. I felt it, Rade. Yours was the worst of all.”
“I think,” Rade said, his voice thick with emotion he claimed not to have, “you’re forgetting Stryke.”
