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I hadn’t even protected my own brother. I had lost the most precious thing in my life. If I’d just done what George wanted, if I’d been obedient and good, would he have spared their lives? Would my brother be here with me right now?

I knew what it felt like, to be utterly powerless. To lose a sibling. I didn’t want that for Court.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You didn’t know. I was going to tell you today and the only reason I waited is because I didn’t want to overwhelm you with everything. You’ve been through a lot, and waiting wasn’t going to change anything.” He kept one arm locked around me like he was afraid I’d start running again if he let go, then brushed his hand through my hair, lifting it out of the way. “You’re bleeding,” he scolded, running a finger along the shell of my ear. He trailed his fingers lower, until he was gripping my jaw and forcing me to turn my head and look at him.

I wished he hadn’t. There was so much pain in his eyes, an awful sadness that hurt to look at.

“You need to talk to me when you’re upset,” he said, raising his brows in emphasis. “Talk to me. Even if you have to yell at me until you’re hoarse, just fucking talk to me. No more running, no more hurting yourself. I won’t tolerate it, Whitney.” He rubbed his thumb along my lower lip, spreading heat across the sensitive area. “Tell me you understand.”

There was a lump in my throat the size of a softball. I wasn’t sure I could speak at all right now.

“I’ve told you before, but when you run, it makes me want to hunt you down,” he murmured.

“Get off me.” There was no heat in my words, not anymore. A coldness had begun seeping into my bones.

“Are you going to behave? Will you talk to me instead of throwing a tantrum like a toddler?”

“Fuck you.”

“Whitney.”

“Yes, okay? I’ll fucking…try.”

“Good girl.” He pressed a firm kiss to my forehead and stood, pulling me up with him.

I wanted to tell him not to say that to me, to stop calling me a good girl because it was patronizing and I hated it and I’d never been good for a single second in my life.

As Court took me back inside, I wasn’t able to shake off the terrible feeling of shame that learning about his brother had excavated.

I was beginning to realize I’d spent a lifetime holding onto all this anger, contributing nothing to a society that never wanted me. Even worse, contributing nothing to my own life, not doing a single beneficial thing for myself.

Why? Because I’d been hurt? I’d convinced myself that I deserved to hold onto my anger and my hatred.

A bitingly acidic taste flooded my mouth. An itch started beneath my skin, expanding until every inch of me was crawling with discomfort. And that darkness that I hated and craved had found the cracks in my foundation. I could feel it, slithering through my organs, squeezing my insides as it permeated my entire being.

I was too tired to fight it.

SIXTEEN

The next week was rough.

Brooks and Vincent hunted through Thorne’s assets while watching his every move. He hadn’t caught on that his online activities as well as his physical ones were being monitored twenty-four-seven, it seemed, which was good for us.

One of the reasons we weren’t just going straight for the money in Thorne’s bunker was because we wanted him to feel like his stores were the only targets. His heightened alertness would slowly slip back into a more relaxed state.

He didn’t think anyone knew about or was capable of getting inside his bunker. While it had officially been left out of the estate’s blueprints, Brooks had been able find a file on Thorne’s computer which contained the bunker’s design.

While Brooks and Vincent did that, Cade and I went to work at the construction site. The Sainted had a new recruit named Kyle that kept fucking up every single task he was given. I wanted to chew Frank out about him, but I knew he’d just say, “He’s young, give him a chance. You were young once, too, and I gave your asses a chance.”

I’d argue that it was different, because there was something off about Kyle. According to Frank, he’d met him at the local bar that was also run by the Sainted. They ran a lot of establishments here; this town had been running on empty for a long time when Frank showed up with his crew offering some kind of salvation.

The majority of the people here were happy to seek out different avenues of income, morals be damned. Everyone was corrupt everywhere you looked, all it took was a bit of money to change someone’s mind.

Frank had revived this town, pumped it full of money until businesses were once again thriving and no one was going hungry. The people here were protected by the Sainted, and the ones who didn’t want to be part of anything related to them had packed up and left.

If my memory served me right, there had only been three families that moved away. Everyone was grateful for Frank and the rest of them, grateful to have food on the table and businesses that weren’t always on the verge of bankruptcy.

Frank was always willing to give someone a chance. But every time I watched Kyle, something in my gut told me he was hiding something. Sure, he was just a kid. Barely twenty, if I had to guess. But his smiles seemed forced and his eyes held a deep hatred in them when he thought no one was looking. They were shifty eyes, always looking for something.