Page 109 of Playing with Fire

Leo stirred, his body tensing before his eyes opened. The whites were bloodshot, irritated by the toxic smoke. His gaze found mine immediately, running a visual assessment before his shoulders relaxed fractionally.

"How bad?" he asked, voice sandpaper rough.

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked." His stubbornness made something in my chest tighten.

"Alive. Functional. Nothing permanently damaged."

"Good." He pushed himself upright, wincing as the movement pulled at his own injuries. "Algerone?"

"Out of surgery," Xander supplied before I could respond. "They had to replace his hip, but they said he’ll walk again just fine with physical therapy and pain management."

Leo nodded, processing the information with the analytical precision I'd come to rely on. That brain of his, always calculating probabilities and outcomes even when half-conscious. Mine. My analytical counterpart. My tech expert. My Leo.

"I need to see him," I said, already eyeing the IV stand on wheels beside my bed. At least I wouldn't have to disconnect anything vital.

"They won't let you," Xander warned. "Doctors have been incredibly tedious about visitors. Something about nearly dying making them protective."

"Like I care what they'll allow."

Leo's hand caught mine, those clever fingers wrapping around my wrist in a way that should have felt restraining but somehow didn't. "What's the objective?" he asked quietly.

The question brought me up short. Leo understood me better than my own brothers sometimes. He knew I didn't just want to check on Algerone's condition. I wanted something specific. Needed it, even.

"Maxime knows I know what he did," I said, watching understanding darken Leo's eyes. "He's been waiting for me to tell Algerone. I need to see his face when I do."

I hadn't told Xander or Xion about the revelation yet. Hadn't had time between Felix's attack, the fire, and the hospital. The words felt like knives in my throat as I laid out Maxime's betrayal in clinical detail—the intercepted call from our mother, the threats, the manipulation that had kept Algerone from ever knowing we existed.

By the time I finished, Xander had gone completely still, a rare state I'd only witnessed a handful of times in our lives. His face cycled rapidly through emotions—shock, grief, rage—each one intense and genuine before settling into something darkly focused.

"That motherfucker," they whispered, voice cracking with raw emotion. "Mom killed herself because of him?He'sthe reason she gave us to Annie? Why we grew up without our parents?"

I caught Xion's gaze across the room. His expression hadn't changed, but something was off. No surprise. No shock. Just that same calculating assessment I'd seen a thousand times.

"You already knew," I said, the realization cold and certain.

"Maxime told me," he confirmed. "Before the Kevin Calcin mission.”

"And you kept it from us?" Xander's voice rose dangerously. "All this time?"

"You both had enough to deal with," Xion replied, his calm only making Xander's fury burn hotter. "What good would it have done to tell you? It wouldn't have changed anything."

"It would have changed everything," Xander snapped. "Information about our mother. About why she killed herself. About why we grew up with Annie instead of her. You knew all along and said nothing?"

"I was protecting you," Xion said simply. "Both of you."

"Bullshit," Xander snapped. "You don't get to decide what we need protection from. Not about this."

“It doesn’t matter who found out when,” I said firmly. “What matters now is what we do about it. We can’t just let him get away with what he did.”

Xander paced the small room, movements sharp and erratic with barely contained rage. "I vote we finish what Felix started and give Maxime a slow, painful death."

"No," I said, voice flat. "Death is too quick. Too easy."

"You've got something worse in mind?" Xander asked, pausing his pacing to look at me.

"Living with the consequences," I replied. "Watching Algerone reject him. Seeing us claim our birthright. Losing everything he's spent thirty-two years building."

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