Paxton doesn’t move. His face doesn’t change. But somethingshifts behind his eyes—a recalculation maybe. It’s rapid and precise, like watching a computer reprocess every piece of data it’s ever been fed.
“How long?” he asks.
“Six years.”
“Since you were eighteen.”
“Yes.”
“Myrddin runs it?”
“Yes. I mean, not personally. Freddy did. And Benny Voltaire.”
Paxton scoffs. “Fucking Voltaires.”
I drop my hands. “Can you focus, please?”
“And Art?”
That spot behind my rib cage aches, like an open wound being topped off with salt.
“Art got into some gambling trouble with Myrddin back in the day, and Dad saw an opportunity for a solution. Maybe it was Freddy’s idea, but the result was the same.”
Paxton goes very still. “What solution?”
“He offered me up. Went to Myrddin and said, ‘Take my son. Lethimfight it off.’”
The silence that follows is the loudest thing I’ve ever heard.
Paxton picks up his whiskey. Takes a sip. Sets it down. His hand is steady, but when he wraps it around the glass again, his knuckles go white. Then his fingers start a rhythmic tap on the desk.
“Dad did this,” he says. “And Art let you take the fall for him?”
I grit my teeth and nod.
“Why now?” His voice is level, controlled, but there’s atimbre underneath I recognize, because I’ve spent my whole life learning to sound exactly like that.
It’s the sound of a man holding himself together so he doesn’t snap.
“Because I’m in love with Genevieve.”
My heart stutters. It’s the first time I’ve admitted it, and it settles over me like a warm blanket.
His brow lifts. “You’re in love with your best friend’s fiancée.”
“Don’t call her that.” I groan, rubbing at my chest.
“Well, that’s what she is, as of about twenty minutes ago.”
“This shit is serious, Pax. I’ve done horrible things.Awfulfucking things, that I don’t ever want to come back on this family. But I can’t let her get stuck here.”
He listens as I pour out my heart and bleed in front of him. I go through everything I’ve done. Everythingshe’sdone to me. Her father, Art’s shift from my best friend to a stranger. The blackmail, the fear, the fucking terror I feel knowing Genevieve’s being stalked.
“So you need my help,” he says.
“I’m asking you to be my brother.Andto be the man our father made you.”
Our eyes meet.
