Page 91 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

Worked harder, got bigger cases.

Won the attention of the District Attorney’s office in Manhattan.

They offered him a job, and he took it.

That was pre-rehab, post-remission. The perfect time for change.

“Riley,” the detective greets me. “How are you doing?”

Everything out of his mouth sounds like a trick question. If I’m good, does it mean I don’t care about my brother? If I’m not good, am I being overly dramatic and negative?

So I settle for a sarcastic, “Well, the hospital is the last place I’d want to spend my Friday night.”

Dad groans.

The detective’s eyebrow jumps up.

And Noah makes a noise that sounds like he’s dying.

I rush to him, leaning over his bed, but he’s just glaring at me. “It’s almost midnight, Riley. You have a meet tomorrow.”

You know, the first step to getting a scholarship for college, he says with his expression.

I swallow. “There’s no way I was going to let you go through surgery and not be here—”

“He’s right,” Dad says gently, holding out his keys. “He’s okay, and you should go home.”

Noah loosens his grip on me. “Get some rest and kick butt tomorrow.”

Their attention stays on my back as I leave.

How I get home is a blur. I vaguely remember locating Dad’s car in the parking garage and navigating the dark streets. Once I’m parked next to my car, I shudder. Mom’s light is still on.

Dad probably didn’t tell her—or maybe he did, and that’s why she’s awake.

I tiptoe into the house, dropping his keys on the hook next to the door and kicking off my shoes. All I want is to fall into bed and forget this happened.

But I can’t.

Mom sits on the staircase, her chin in her hand. Worry creases her face. “Were you going to tell me something happened?”

I shrug. “Probably not.”

She lifts herself up. “And now?”

“Noah was mugged.” The lie comes out easily. “He’ll be home tomorrow.”

“And your father?”

I wish she would react. I want to press the buttons until she does—but that would probably just make everything worse.

“He’s staying there, I think.” I don’t know.

Noah’s an adult, but he’s still a child in a lot of ways.

“I need to go to bed.” I move past her up the stairs, locking myself in my room. I lean against the door and hold my breath, waiting for her footsteps.

They don’t come.

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