“Yeah.” I nod. The next words stick in my throat. “I’m going to tell you everything. What I’ve told you before is only the tip of it, Deck. It’s worse than we thought.”
He nods and waits for me to continue.
“Eli got a message.” I stare at my hands. “Photos of us.”
Deck raises a brow.
“Kissing.”
Deck stays quiet.
Then, I tell him everything. I tell him because I know Eli won’t be able to; hell, he barely got through telling me. I tell Deck about the abuse, the manipulation, the beatings, the control, the scars, the rapes. I tell him about Adrian breaking Eli down piece by piece. About Ree and Marge, and what they did to get him out. About the nightmares, the guilt, and the way Eli still carries it as if it belongs to him.
When I stop, silence settles heavy between us. Then Deck turns away so fast I flinch.
His silence is louder than shouting. I know exactly what’s breaking inside him.
He walks to the far end of the balcony and stops, staring up at the dark sky. His shoulders lock tight, and his fists clench. Then he exhales something sharp and broken, bending forward slightly to brace his hands on his knees, sucking uneven air into his lungs.
I leave him to process everything while I look out over the water. I let him breathe. Rage like that needs space before it finds direction.
Deck straightens again, and I’ve seen that posture before. It isn’t sorrow holding him upright; it’s fury: quiet, controlled, and already halfway to war.
He turns back to me. “That man is dead,” his voice is low and full of fury. “Dead, CJ. Not injured. Fucking dead.”
The certainty in his voice matches the fire burning in my own chest. I nod once. “Agreed.”
We stand there a moment longer, joined as brothers, as family.
Finally, I say, “He can’t be alone anymore. Not ever. I need to keep him safe.” I glance toward the apartment. “I can’t lose him.”
The truth hits me hard. Saying it out loud feels like stepping off a cliff.
Deck watches me for a long moment, then smirks slightly. “I knew it.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“Nope.” He points at me. “You finally let someone in. About fucking time, brother.”
Heat creeps into my face. He’s not wrong, and that scares me. Despite everything, I huff a laugh and watch his expression shift.
“We’ll keep him safe, CJ. He’s family.” The words settle deep: heavy and right.
When we go back inside, Finn and Eli are still asleep on the couch. Deck disappears into the kitchen and returns with coffee, which we take back outside.
We plan: shifts, coverage, contingencies, worst-case scenarios, routes, layers. By the time we’re done, the shape of it is solid. Not perfect, but enough.
“We’ve got him,” Deck says.
I nod.
We go back inside; I need to see my boy. Deck lifts Finn into his arms without warning, causing me to raise my eyebrows in question.
“Don’t ask,” Deck says flatly.
A grin tugs at my mouth, but I don’t comment. “See you in the morning.”
Then he’s gone.
