Page 40 of Brutal Prince

“Never? I’d have liked a brother.”

“Younger or older?”

“Younger. Don’t need anyone lording shit over me, you know?”

Marcus lets out a huff of a laugh.

“We’d have been good brothers,” I say, flicking his ear.

“Doubt it. We’d probably have hated each other’s guts.” Marcus clears his throat. Maybe he’s feeling all emotional and shit too. I’ll have to make a note never to touch that brand of rum of again. “Plus, you can’t choose your family. It’s what makes life so much fun.” With his flat tone, I know exactly where his mind has detoured.

By the time we make it upstairs, that last inch of rum I downed is blurring the world around me. I’m distantly aware of Marcus helping me stumble to my bed, murmuring something about no fucking way he was tucking me in, bros or no, and then he’s gone.

Before sleep takes me, I swear I hear the sound of low, electronic beeps.

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

Did I lock the front door? Maybe Marcus is pinning in the key — I’m sure he knows it by now.

Fuck it — if someone breaks in, they’ll have to deal with me and Marcus. Even drunk, we’d beat them to a fucking pulp.

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