Page 36 of The Shadow King's Brother

Gotta stay awake.

Two hours. It feels like an eternity. My back aches, my body stiff from hiding.

Finally, Tuvio appears again, his usual posture slightly diminished, his face pale and drawn. I watch him head toward the parking garage, but this time he takes the stairs. I move slowly, keeping my head down, and follow him.

When we are down, I run, and corner him by his car, my hand reaching out to grab the front of his shirt. My nails dig in as I yank him back towards his vehicle with a force that surprises us both.

“What the hell are you doing in the Broad building or whatever this place is?” I demand.

His eyes are full of fear. “What are you doing here, Victoria? We’re family. Did you follow me here?” He tries to sound indignant, but his voice shakes.

“Families don’t lie and sneak around.” I shove him roughly against his car. “Tell me the truth!”

“Damn it, Victoria, you’re hurting me.” He winces, his voice rising, his eyes darting around the empty garage.

“The truth hurts,” I snap, my grip tightening on his shirt. His face is starting to sweat now, and big beads flood it like trapped bubbles on the surface of a boiling pot.

“Well?”

He glances around as if looking for an escape route. I’m not going to let him go.

“I... I didn’t want to tell you...” he stutters, his face crumpling like a man about to cry.

“What the fuck is it?” I say, my own patience wearing thin.

“AA!” he blurts out, his voice choked. “I’m in AA. I have an alcohol problem. I get treatment here, in this building.”

What?

I shake my head, disbelief warring with something else - a strange kind of pity. My hand loosens on his shirt, but my gaze is fixed on his face, searching for the telltale sign of a lie. It doesn’t come.

The people coming out of the building are older women and a few older men. The awkward hugs, the air of anonymity, his jumpy and nervous demeanor—he could be telling the truth, but the thought is unwelcome.

Shit.

“Why didn’t you say something?” I ask, raising my brow.

“I was embarrassed, okay?” Tuvio pants, his chest heaving. “You think I’m proud of this? I’m not proud of it, okay?” he says, his voice cracking, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “After Dante…died… my problem got worse, okay? It’s all I had… alcohol... but… I’m sober now. I’m trying.”

He sounds… broken.

I reach out, brushing off the leftover sugar on his suit. I curse myself silently for letting my anger blind me, for being so quick to jump to conclusions. For a moment, I look at him, and I see nothing but pain, a pain that is both new and old, like a wound that is both fresh and festering. I release him slowly, letting my hand drop, setting him free.

“The Broad building? That’s why you were acting weird?” I ask.

“I thought you were trying to expose me,” he says. “I don’t even know who owns that building. It just says Broad Corporation. I don’t think there are actual offices there.”

“Right… Listen, I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah—” he grunts.

I know I’ve screwed up. Damn it.

“Sorry, Tuvio, really. I just…” I hesitate. “I fucked up.”

He doesn’t respond. Just stumbles into his car and starts the engine. He looks shaken. Then, right before pulling away, he glances at me—just once. There’s something like regret in his eyes.

“You wouldn’t understand the meaning of fucked up, Victoria,” he says.

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