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I shake my head. “You don’t get to claim her. Not after what you did to her mama.”

“What did I do to her?” he asks, turning to look at Quinn as she struggles to free her hands from the ropes. She freezes and meets my gaze as tears pour down her face. The pleading in her eyes pulls at my heart and it takes all my strength to keep my feet rooted to the ground. I have no clue how far Clay is willing to take this and I would never forgive myself if she got hurt because I didn’t have the patience to handle this situation correctly. Turning back to my brother, I release a breath.

“You raped her, Clay. Don’t you remember that?”

He jerks back with a scowl, studying me before he turns to look at her. “No…I didn’t do that.”

“Yes,” she breathes and his gaze drifts back to her. “You did.”

“I…” He turns to look at me, bewildered. “I wouldn’t…”

“I was out with my friends,” Quinn says, her voice hoarse as she meets Clay’s eyes and holds steady. Goddamn, she’s so strong. “And I went outside to get some fresh air when you pulled me into the side alley. You pushed my dress up and cut my panties off before forcing yourself inside me. When you were done, you smiled at me and left me lying on the ground, bleeding.”

“No,” he mutters, stumbling away from her before turning to me with a look of horror in his eyes. “No. I wouldn’t… I didn’t…”

“You did, Clay. I offered up my DNA to the police and it was a familial match to her rape kit.”

He takes another step back like if he can just get far enough away from me, it will protect him from the truth and I sigh. Running his hands through his greasy hair, he shakes his head and starts muttering to himself.

“Oh my god, I’m him. I’m just like him. What have I done? What have I done?”

Fuck.

This is falling apart, fast.

I glance down at the little girl in my arms before running across the boxcar and placing Brooklyn in Quinn’s lap. I make sure she gets her arms over her before marching back over to my brother and grabbing his arms.

“Hey, look at me.”

His vacant gaze flicks to mine. It’s like I’m staring at a ghost as he stares at me and I wonder if I’m already too damn late to save him.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper. “We need to go to the police but you can get through this.”

He shakes his head, ripping free of my grip and taking a few steps backward. “I read all the police reports. Mom… she had bruises all over her body. Dad had been beating her for months and then, that night, he just lost it. I remember the yelling. I remember listening to him scream at her that night. And the photos… oh, God, the photos. Mom… she looked so broken and he did that to her. Dad killed her and I…” His voice cracks as he glances over at Quinn and Brooklyn. “I’m a monster, just like him.”

“No,” I force out through the tears building in my eyes. “You’re not just like him. Listen to me, Clay. It’s the drugs. This isn’t who you are.”

He nods, glancing back at Quinn before meeting my eyes again. “I hurt people… just like him. I don’t deserve a second chance.”

“Don’t say that,” I whisper, gritting my teeth. “I know who you are, deep down under all the drugs and pain, I know the kind of person you are and you’re not a monster.”

“I think she would have a different opinion,” he whispers, nodding to Quinn and my chest tightens. “I don’t want to hurt anyone again, Luke. I don’t want to be this person anymore.”

“And you won’t once we get you clean. You’ll do your time and you’ll get clean and you can start a new life that’s better than all this.”

He stares down at the floor for a long second before meeting my eyes and the certainty staring back at me scares the hell out of me. “No second chance, Luke. I’m already dead.”

My world spins as he lifts the gun to his head and I freeze, unable to propel myself forward like my mind is screaming to and he smiles at me.

“I love you, big brother,” he whispers and my heart hammers against my rib cage as tears well up in my eyes. I shake my head, taking a step forward but he pulls the trigger before I can reach him.

“No!” I scream, my voice echoing through the trees around us as Quinn’s screams and Brooklyn’s cries join my own.

His body slumps to the floor of the boxcar, his lifeless eyes staring back at me and I fall to my knees, gasping for air as the world spins and my stomach rolls.

No.

This can’t be happening.

Not again.