Page 91 of Hunted By Valentine

“We all do,” Nick says.

I steal a glance at my oldest brother. Of the three of us, he’s the only one who really knew her. He was six when she died, old enough to have memories. I’ve always envied him for that, but also pitied him. Memories can be a crueler burden than ignorance.

Looking back at the lettering, I try to will her into existence. What would she say to us now? Would she scold Nick for his cynicism, comfort Jack in his silent turmoil, forgive me for the mess I’ve made? I don’t hear her voice, but something inside me answers. We are what you made us. We are your legacy.

“Let’s go,” Jack says, already turning to leave. “I’m starving.” I don’t think that’s true, but I don’t call him out on his need to get away from here.

We walk back to the vehicles, our steps slower, more measured. The air is heavy with unspoken words, with the weight of history. I feel a strange calmness, as if visiting Mom has centered me, given me a clearer purpose.

Suddenly, I feel the hairs at the back of my neck stand at attention. It’s the same feeling I got back between Christmas and New Year’s. I look around, searching for the reason but finding none.

When Nick walks over to his car, I hesitantly take a step toward it. “Hey, aren’t you driving with me?” Jack asks, perplexed.

“Umm…” That’s all I manage before Nick spins around. “You want to drive with me?” he asks, sounding confused.

I don’t blame my brothers for reacting that way. Jack and I are the closest, so it would make more sense for me to drive with my youngest brother. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages, Nick,” I say, doing my best to sound sincere.

“Fine,” Jack grunts. “Where are we going?”

“My place,” I say before anyone can suggest differently. “I have to go back eventually, but I would feel better having you guys there with me.”

I don’t miss the look they share, one of bewilderment and anger. But luckily for me, the impatience of my oldest brother wins out. So when Jack wants to debate it, he’s shut down.

“Let’s just go. See you there, Jack.”

Feeling ashamed for playing them, I don’t look back as I follow Nick and get into the backseat in his car. When he goes to get into the driver’s seat, I ask, “Can Marco drive? I need to talk to you.”

With a sharp nod, he agrees, and his right-hand man smoothly drives us away while Nick sits with me in the back.

“So, what’s the real reason you’re driving with me?” he asks, his tone sharp, letting me know he knows I’m up to something.

Straightening my back, I meet his gaze. “I need you to distract Jack.”

“Why?”

“Because I need time alone with Michael,” I say. My voice trembles as I mention my husband’s name, but it’s not from fear. Oh no, it’s pure anger and hatred. “I need him dead. Now. Tonight. But I can’t get him to come back to the house if you and Jack are there.”

Nick’s expression doesn’t give anything away. “I see.”

I wait for several moments, but he doesn’t say anything else. “Will you do it?” I ask, desperation coating my words.

“That depends,” he says easily. “Does this have anything to do with Valentine?”

“Yes. No… not really. I can’t stay with Michael, not after what he did. But I don’t want anyone else to kill him.” The words tumble from me, inelegant and rushed.

Nick nods slowly, thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

He scoffs. “Don’t sound so surprised, Ruby. You’re my sister, and I’ll do anything for you. If you want to be the one to kill Michael, I won’t stop you. God knows you’ve more than earned the right.”

Tears gather in my eyes, and I try to blink them away.

“How do you plan on killing him?” he asks, conversationally.

“With poison,” I answer, and then I go on to explain about the vial I have stashed in the kitchen.

“What kind of poison is it?”

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