“Yes, one.” Finn sighs heavily. “And it will be perfect for tonight’s party. A party for which you are not invited.” He flicks up his gaze to meet mine. Challenging.
“C...” Bran begins.
“C?” Finn asks, his surprised gaze lingering between us. Then he snorts. “Prince. Sure, I should have known. Not your real name, right? Did he pay you? I should have fucking known—” He doesn’t finish his phrase. Suddenly he runs for the backdoor.
“What the fuck?” I grumble.
Finn is fast, lithe, and agile, but when the inky-black corridor suddenly lights up with Christmas lights, taking him by surprise, he stumbles and crashes to the ground. He turns over his shoulder to where we are approaching fast. “Stay away!” He cries out, then starts crawling toward the backdoor.
“Flower.” I begin.
“No, stay away!” He staggers back onto his feet.
“It’s locked.”
He reaches the door and starts pulling.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” B says. “Why do you look afraid?”
“Ringo.” Finn looks his way, his back pressed against the wall. “But that’s not your real name, is it?”
My brother sniffs delicately. “You said you liked our names.”
“That was because I thought it was your real name!” Finn shouts. ”Why did you give me a fake name to begin with? Did he ask you to?”
B shrugs. “Because I felt like it.”
“Because youfeltlike it,” Finn echoes. Disdain drips from his tongue, mingled with something I can’t place. Something that makes my chest clench.
“You were playing me all along. Just like everyone else does.” Finn wipes a hand over his face, and I realize he’s crying. My throat constricts.
“It’s Bran,” my brother blurts. “My name is Bran. Fernando, to be precise, but everyone always calls me Bran.” My brother cocks his head and takes a step toward Finn. “We’re not playing you.”
“Yes, you are.” Finn’s eyes dart my way. “He paid you.”
“Who?” I ask, though I know who he’s talking about. That shithead who nearly ended up in the well. It was fun to see his girlfriend fighting for his life.
“You know who.”
Bran shakes his head and takes another step toward Finn. “You are wrong. You are ours, and he’s a dickhead. One word, flower. One word, and we’ll end him. It’s that simple. Now, why are you really afraid?”
“It’s because he doesn’t like the name Ringo,” I joke. Bran rolls his eyes, and Finn scrunches up his nose.
“That has nothing to do with it.”
“Is it the champagne? We can get you something else,” Bran says. He has reached Finn and slowly reaches out to cup his cheek.
“My name is Castor,” I say. “Prince was the nickname of the first guy I killed.”
Finn gasps. “The first guy you?—”
“Don’t worry, flower. He deserved it.” Bran peppers wet kisses onto Finn’s throat.
Finn’s eyes flutter closed, but when they open again, they stare right at me. “Why did you kill that man?” He asks.
Bran’s fingers curl around Finn’s chin, and he tilts his face to better access Finn’s mouth.
“Because I didn’t like him.”