Page 27 of Chaos & Carnage

“Hey,” I greet Marcus, scanning the room for my brother before focusing back on him. “How are things going over here?”

His eyes are duller than normal. “As good as can be expected.”

“At least the kids are up to their usual antics.”

He shakes his head as though he’s at his wit's end with them. “They’re driving me insane. That many teenage boys are not meant to be sequestered in one small house for this long.” A smirk tugs at my lips. “I’m about to take them over to the clubhouse and have them burn off some of that energy on fixing the place up.”

“Is that wise?” I question. “With Giovanni and all?”

“Giovanni is likely holed up in his tower planning our demise. It will be a day or two at the earliest before he attacks.”

I just nod. “And Evie? How is she?”

His eyes flash with worry and simmer with rage. “Hard to tell. She’s quiet, withdrawn. Sometimes the kids’ presence seems as though it’s a welcome distraction, and others, she shies away from the noise.”

“I thought I’d check on her before I leave,” I hedge.

Concern still tightens his facial features as he nods. “I think she’d like that. I’m guessing you’re here to see your brother…” He gestures toward the back door. “Luc’s outside.”

My eyes swivel to the back door, but I don’t immediately move toward it. “How has he been?” I ask Marcus instead.

His lips purse again, his face tightening. “He’s trying to act like nothing happened, hanging out and laughing with the kids, though sometimes it’s as if he gets lost inside his head. I can tell he’s not in the room, but he hasn’t talked to any of us. Although, I’ve heard him and Evie chatting late at night.”

My gaze is still focused on the back door, as if I can see through it, while I try to work out what I can say or do to make everything better for him.

“Just knowing you’re there is enough,” Marcus says. When I flick my gaze his way, I notice him studying me, likely reading the thoughts on my face. “He just needs to know you’re there.”

With a sharp jerk of my head, I walk over to the back door and pull it open. Luc is sitting on the top step of the back porch, staring out over the small expanse of grass that makes up the backyard. He doesn’t even turn his head as I step onto the porch and move toward him.

“Hey,” I say softly, slowly lowering myself onto the wooden step beside him. He startles, and I’m guessing he was lost in his thoughts, just like Marcus had mentioned, before I spoke.

“Hey.” His voice is dull and scratchy, as though he hasn’t spoken to anyone all morning, never removing his focus from the far-off spot he was staring at. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I come check on my little brother?”

That garners a ghost of a smile, but there’s none of the liveliness I saw yesterday. I guess relief at knowing I was alive and the adrenaline from finding out about the clubhouse, pulled him from this more subdued state.

“Talk to me,” I urge, nudging his shoulder with mine.

“I don’t want to talk about that.” There’s steel in his voice, and I work to swallow the questions biting at the end of my tongue.

“I didn’t say you had to talk about that,” I counter.

“How did you get away from Giovanni’s men?” he asks instead.

“I got lucky,” I tell him honestly. “I managed to kill the guy who shot me off my bike, but then I passed out. A friend I’d made when we were sleeping on the streets found me.”

“Do the people you kill haunt you?”

It takes me a second to wrap my brain around the change of direction of the conversation, and I stiffen at his question, my mind whirring as I wonder why, of all things, he’d ask methat. Why he’d feel the need to. It takes all of my willpower not to demand to know and instead form a suitable response.

“No. Everyone I’ve killed deserved it.”

“What if you didn’t know they deserved it? What if you killed someone who was innocent?”

I frown, even as worry slicks like oil, coating my insides. “If he was an Antonelli,” I say, choosing my words wisely. “Then he most likely deserved it. And even if he didn’t, anything Giovanni or Santos made you do under duress is not your fault.”

His haunted eyes finally turn toward mine, but he doesn’t speak.

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