Page 64 of Bleed with Me

“What?” I drifted my gaze between them, seeing capitulation written all over Zyon’s face. “After everything that happened with Chester?”

“Clearly, Valeria isn’t the only one who is traumatized,” Zyon said, throwing himself in his chair at the head of the long dining table. Malin circled the liquid in his glass mindlessly, killing the plant in the corner with his glare, and I’d never felt more left out of whatever the fuck was happening here. It couldn’t just be an argument about the food poisoning.

“What’s going on?” I asked, plopping into the chair on Zyon’s right. His dark eyes zoomed in on me, but he stayed quiet.

“You wanted out, Dorian,” Malin reminded me in a firm voice, folding his forearms on the table. “You can’t be in whenever you want to and then ignore us when it doesn’t suit your work. You chose your investors over us.”

“I chose wealthy fuckers to support my work because you refused,” I ground out, holding his glare. This topic hung between us since the day I decided to open the hospital. Zyon backed my decision, but Malin was like a ticking time bomb whenever the matter came up.

“We had our reasons,” Malin ground out.

“Reasons you refused to elaborate,” I spat. “I had to go with those who wanted to help me help others.”

“Okay, that’s enough. Both of you,” Zyon interrupted, rubbing his tired eyes. “We’ve had this discussion. The decision’s been made.”

“You decided,” Malin said, and my brows shot up in surprise. He never, and I mean never, opposed Zyon.

“And I stand by it,” Zyon snapped in his typical bossy voice. “You have the same options. If you want out, I won’t stop you.”

My mouth fell agape, my eyes jumping from one angry face to another. This was so fucking wrong it felt like a punch to the gut.

“What the fuck?” I yelled, pushing back the unsettling sensation that nested in my chest. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what kind of game we were playing, and it was the worst feeling ever. “Since when do you two argue?”

“Since Malin prioritizes locating a 5-year-old boy before finding your kidnappers,” Zyon retorted, abruptly standing up. The chair was moved so forcefully that it fell backward.

“I’m working on both cases,” Malin said firmly, but the tic in his jaw suggested he was anything but calm.

“Yeah, that’s why we don’t have the kidnappers. The boy is still missing, and I don’t have a report about Nina Valentino on my desk, right?” Zyon’s eyes flashed lightning at Malin. “Family is always first. Then do your side jobs.”

“I know what comes first better than you, brother,” Malin hushed icily, sounding like a demonic creature crawling from the grave. All the hair on my neck rose on end, and my body shifted into fight mode. If Malin snapped, it would be mayhem.

“Do you?” Zyon took a menacing step closer, and Malin rose slowly. In a millisecond, I was on my feet, running to them.

“Okay, okay, calm down, you two.” I stood between them, holding them at arm’s length. “We didn’t survive more than forty years by fighting each other.”

My words were met with silence so heavy it felt like the room was holding its breath.

My gaze jumped from one emotionless face to another, my brain stuck because it didn’t have enough information to solve their argument. The demand I’d made to keep me out of the business was kicking me in the ass. And to top it all off, my phone just buzzed on the other side of the table, my heart making a pathetic little jump in hope that ma vilaine finally decided to acknowledge me.

“Can we calm down?” I asked in a firm voice, silently praying that our mom showed up. “I need updates, boys,” I continued when they didn’t respond, letting my arms fall to my sides. “I have no idea what this testosterone fight means.”

“It means nothing,” Zyon ground out, yet his eyes still threw daggers at Malin, who shifted into his usual detached mode. “Our brother just needs to set his priorities straight.”

I raised a brow, knowing Malin's priorities always lay with the family. It was burned into his bones, carved into his grim heart. Doubting him felt almost insulting, especially after everything he'd done for all of us.

Without a comment, word, or at least an inhale, Malin turned on his heels and left. He didn’t slam doors, kick the furniture, or yell at Zyon’s bodyguards to clear his path. He just left, as if nothing had happened, which was much more terrifying than if he threw a fit.

“Was that really necessary?” I raised my voice, anger bleeding into my words. “You know how he is about the kids.”

“I need him to do his job first, then he can hunt whatever ghost he decides is worthy of his time.” Zyon lifted his chair and sat on it, running a hand through his hair. “Do you have any idea how many disappearances occur in one day? He can’t solve all of them! I need him to find your abductors first. And that fucking report about Nina Valentino should’ve been on my desk this morning!”

“I’m sure you know how to put a name into the search bar, Zyon,” I pointed out, pouring him a generous amount of whiskey before dropping into the chair beside him. “Why is she important anyway? I thought your heart belonged to your wife.”

I winked at him when he shot me a glare that screamed, “Don’t fucking start, or I’ll strangle you.” I chuckled into my juice as I waited for an explanation.

“Valeria believes that the Valentino-Carlile arranged union is a coerced act,” he exhaled, turning the dessert spoon between his fingers mindlessly. “She also said that she knows an abuser when she sees one and claims that Sonny and his father, Sebastian, show aggressive behavior towards Nina and Arianna when they think no one sees them.”

“How did she notice?” I asked, frowning at Zyon, who gulped the entire glass of whiskey in one go.