Ben clasps his hands behind his head, leaning back. The leather of the chair creaks beneath his shifting weight. “I know you don’t.” He straightens again. “Because I have worked very hard to keep you kids out of that world. The District's streets are run by The Families. The whole structure is corrupt. They are just dangerous company to keep, and even more so to marry into.”
“So, what, like the mob?” Jaxon asks, reminding me he is present. I almost forgot. I still need to be very careful what I say, what Konnor says.
“Something like that,” Ben answers.
“And Nerrock is involved?” I ask.
“Well, he would deny it,” Ben says, “They are just businessmen, Blesk.”
Konnor takes a few steps closer to Ben, his tone dropping as he says, “Areyouinvolved with them?”
“God, no!” Ben defends.
My breath catches. “Is my—” I stop. “The man who took Konnor. Was he involved?” I ask, not really considering my question before the words escape my lips.
He was…
I know he was.
“I don’t know, Blesk,” Ben replies, looking around the room, trying to read each of us.
“Woah, this is a bit intense. Konnor, you’re a mafia kid,” Jaxon says in an almost naive awe.
“No, I’m not! I’m a Slater!”
Cassidy steps forward and looks at her father, keeping her eyes carefully away from Konnor. “Is Butcher one of them?”
Konnor stiffens, eyes narrowing on Cassidy. “Cassidy, why? Why would it matter?”
She avoids his locked glare, focusing on a point somewhere over his shoulder. “Just wondering. Flick hangs out with them a lot now.”
Konnor closes the distance between them until they stand almost toe to toe, forcing her to arch her neck to maintain eye contact. “You’re lying.” His gaze doesn’t waver. “Why do you care about The Butcher Boys? Why is that name even coming up?”
She lifts her chin higher, holding his stare. “They are our friends, Konnor. That’s all.”
“Oh.” His eyebrows shoot up. “So now they’reourfriends? Not just Flick’s friends anymore?”
“Konnor,” I say, touching his arm.
“Son, what is your qualm with them?” Ben asks, but his tone feels flat and pacifying. “Do you know something I don’t?”
Konnor’s face tightens. “Don’t like them, that’s all. I don’t want Cassidy hanging out with them.”
Cassidy scoffs. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m not five anymore and can do what I fricking like.”
“Cassidy, calm down,” Ben says, looking between his two children. “Your brother just worries."
“Great, now I have a restriction on friends."
“You’re acting like a brat, Cassidy,” Konnor snaps.
“I’m acting like an eighteen-year-old girl who is being interrogated by her brother because she has boys who are friends. Can you be more of a cliché? I bet you wish I were gay like Flick.”
“Notboys,Cassidy.Butcherboys,” Konnor says the name with utter disdain.
“We are digressing,” Ben says. “These aren’t conversations we should be having nor are they necessary. Luca Butcher’s sons are not the issue here, and you’re not in any kind of danger.”
I peer at Konnor. His eyes cut quickly to me, and I can see the same thought in his eyes. I’m in witness protection for this exact reason; he’s the estranged son of a potential mob boss; we have a bucket list that isn’t about experiences before we die but ticking off trauma roadblocks—danger has already come and gone for us.
