That said, Julien’s a stubborn son of a bitch, so much so, it’s sometimes comical. It took me almost a week to get his attention in private to try and convince him of whom he was guarding during his grunt work phase as a recruit of the club. To convince him that I was the brother of the man behind the curtain, the half-French half-American ringleader running this show. He clearly saw us as no more than two arrogant American assholes in their mid-twenties that he had to monitor for reasons unknown to him.
I let him in on that secret.
He’s not much of a romantic and comically berated me and Sean for it for hours. It was hilarious.
Once I finally got through to the fucker, my instincts paid off in spades. By day as we did our recon on raven marks, he also helped me gather some much-needed intel I’d been lacking and in search of for years.
It was also when I realized how far Antoine had his hooks into my brother and what leverage he holds over his head. Tobias not only strengthened the French fuck’s organization in return for minimal help, certain connections, and privileges but he’s also made it the strongest and most feared underground kingdom in France. By reputation alone, no one will dare cross Antoine, and it’s Tobias’s goddamn fault.
He’s fucking created a near indestructible army, and if he so much as steps in the wrong direction with Antoine, the land mines my brother himself set will blow up in his face. We aren’t going out like this. I refuse to let him be beholden to this sick fuck. He wants me nowhere near Antoine. It’s clear why—I’m my brother’s only weakness.
I believe Antoine knows it, no matter how good Tobias’s poker face is. In turn, Tobias has become a monster’s puppet—for me.
A fact I cannot turn my back on. A fact that hammered that guilt nail in, cementing me here to serve my time and rectify the situation.
Julien is key.
Because he’s not at all on Tobias’s radar—a grunt on the bottom of the bird chain—Julien can slip out at any time unnoticed. We don’t work like other organizations with death threats until the ink dries. Even then, it’s not a blood-out situation. With Julien and I diligently working to put a plan in place, as of today, we cemented a long-term strategy to get my brother out of Antoine’s clutches and bring him down while taking over the army Tobias himself built.
In a matter of a year or two, Julien will be the first undercover raven to infiltrate Antoine’s army. Once established there, he’ll start the recruitment process to lure in other ravens to create an effective sleeping giant. When awoken at the most optimal time—sadly for Antoine—it will be game over. This giant to serve the same purpose and be just as effective if executed properly. It will take time, but it will work.
Sean’s aware of it, and as soon as I can safely brief Tyler, he’ll be the only other to know.
But the sadder truth of discovering the flipside of my brother’s world is the condition in which he lives. A soldier without a true home, with absolutely nothing but the moves he makes and the hands he continually plays. I full-on fucking cried when I realized what lengths he’s taken to get us to where we are—along with the depth of his perpetual loneliness. That the luxuries he claims to love might be a mirage or an attempt to mask the isolation he must feel.
A hobby that came out of necessity to bide what little time he doesn’t spend taxing himself with keeping Antoine happy and our noses clean back in the States. Though Tobias’s warmth isn’t perceptible to any naked eye, its existence is far more prevalent than mine—and these people he surrounds himself with aren’t his fucking people.
His heart is useless because it’s only his mind he fuels.
Fourteen months ago, that was me.
I hate every facet of his world here, and I’m convinced he does too—suffering in silence and trapped with no sanctuary.
No comfort in a sound like the scratch and flip of a new page. No cloud to immerse in—limbs tangled in damp skin, hair tickling my nose, fingernails raking my chest, and soothing murmured words. He’s never had the escape of getting lost in love’s deep blues, in sinful lips, in a scent so addictive, it immediately gets him hard, or the gift of how breathy moans that reek of praise make a man feel invincible. If he only knew what it felt like to be looked at the way she fucking looks at me. Her dark blue eyes searing through flesh and bone as if she could see every part inside and appreciate each one—no matter how well some of it works and some doesn’t.
Of having a woman who fucking understands him and refuses to let him back down from who he truly is, of freeing him.
She sought me out, fed my starving heart, and resurrected it. She dragged the weakening organ out, kicking and screaming . . . but it’s out, and it steadily beats for her.
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.
There’s no going back. This shit’s not reversible.
You can’t unlove someone because you’re ordered to. His belief that it’s possible shows how immature his heart is.
He may have posed the decision, but my heart had already made the fucking choice before I began serving a minute here.
I chose my brother the night he sentenced us—and every day since, the guttural burn that I carry keeps telling me it was a mistake.
You chose wrong.
Hell’s true definition is living out the wrong decision.
My jaw clenches with the realization as I stare up at the black-molded ceiling of my prison.
My shackles invisible but there.
If I walk out of this hostel, I’m free. But if I do, I’ll never be let in again.
It’s a mindfuck, and one I no longer want to participate in.
Hurting him that way broke something inside of me, too. Something between us we may never be able to get back. And that’s on me, so I’ve done what I can to fix it, but he’s tearing me apart in seeking satisfaction.
Because he doesn’t have a fucking clue what it’s like to feel it, so he doesn’t understand his current demand.
Cecelia would never let me forsake my relationship with my brother. Her heart is far too evolved. But sadly, Tobias’s isn’t.
Lightning flickers through the shadows, and I rip my earbuds out, listening for the thunder. It inevitably sounds a few beats later, rumbling throughout the room as the faint stream of David Bowie playing between my fingers reminds me of a time I lay beneath a starlight sky with the woman haunting me.
With our silence, has she washed her hands of us altogether?
Quietly dressing, I slip into my boots, grabbing Julien’s burner, which he now leaves for me every night.
In my mind, these days, weeks, and months have been pointless, and every single one has felt like the sentence it is. I feel like my heart can only resume its rightful beat when I’m back in Triple Falls, and my brother can look me in the eye—until I can find her hand in the midst of this shit.
The time we spent together is starting to feel more like a distant daydream. And the worst part is, the longer I stay here without her, the more it will remain one. Even when we get back to Triple Falls, I won’t find her on that street—waiting.
Or is she?
Shutting the door behind me, I trek down the hall, making my way out of the hostel and into the storm. She probably hates us both for deserting her without promise. For not fighting Tobias harder. For remaining silent. We aren’t helpless. We could have refused to come and engineered a new way to move forward and around my brother. Being here is a choice, remains a choice, a pledge of allegiance, and most importantly, an apology. One he deserves.