Page 230 of Bishop

Tilly has found her feet here. She’s now sleeping and eating well. She’s even made a few friends at the park.

When times are tough, she continues to call for her momma, and I know that’s still not me, but it’s my arms she runs to for comfort. It’s me she looks to for support.

“So he’s treating you right?” Remy asks.

I smirk, cocking my hip against the kitchen counter. “Would you do something about it if he wasn’t?”

“Of course.” Remy rolls his eyes. “I’d pack your bags and disappear with you, because I sure as shit wouldn’t approach that scary motherfucker about it.”

I chuckle. “He’s not scary.” Even his scar is beautiful. A heroic reminder of the risk he took. “If Tilly doesn’t fear him then—”

“Tilly has been through a lot. Let’s not do a deep dive into why her judgment of character might not be at its best.”

I screw the lid back on the bottle of water and playfully throw it at him. He dodges the projectile, laughing as it hits the ground to skitter along the floorboards.

“Her judgment of character is just fine,” I grumble.

Even the bond with my brothers has changed into something I adore. Where once we all fought our own private demons, not having enough time or energy to pay attention to what was going on in each other’s lives, we now have the peace and security to maintain a healthy relationship.

Remy and Salvatore might live in another state, and have limited spare time with their new roles in our uncle’s organization, but now they take notice when I’ve had a trying day. Or I’m exhausted. Or resentful of the past.

They visit often.

They send Tilly gifts all the damn time.

And they video call almost daily.

Matthew pays us the same attention, but in person, having explained how hard it was for him to keep Bishop’s communication to himself. He hadn’t even told Layla.

Since then, he’s groveled a lot. Bribed, too. Layla, Tilly, and I take full advantage, enjoying spa days and shopping sprees at his expense without remorse.

“Are we done here?” I tilt my chin at the envelope on the dining table that contains the mass of paperwork we spent the morning going over.

“Yeah.” Remy continues to chuckle. “As long as you’re still happy for us to go ahead with the sale of Alleya.”

"I am.” I don’t want the distraction the fashion label provides. I no longer want any ties to my parents either. “The sooner it’s gone the better.”

“In that case, everything is signed and initialed. Now, all I have to do is submit the documents to the legal team for them to—”

The front door opens, cutting off my brother’s words, and the two most important people in my life walk inside, hand in hand.

My chest warms like it always does when I see them bonding, the heat quickly vanishing when I notice the stern look on Bishop’s face.

“What happened?” I ask.

Tilly releases his fingers and rushes for the dollhouse in the corner of the open living room, oblivious to whatever has made Bishop seethe.

He stalks toward me, his face a mask of animosity as he drags me in and plants a kiss to my temple, muttering, “I killed two snotty-nosed assholes.”

All the blood drains from my face, my stomach free falling. “You did what?” I whisper.

“What the fuck?” Remy rasps nearby.

“In my head.” Bishop releases me and continues to the coffee machine, grabbing coffee mugs from the drawer below. “Snapped their necks like fucking toothpicks.”

“So you didn’t kill them?” I gape. “Are you trying to scare the life out of me?”

“Jesus Christ, Bishop.” Remy drags a hand through his hair. “I thought you were serious.”

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