Page 48 of A Hero in Hiding

August looks over at me as I shrug. “Don’t look at me like that. He clearly enjoyed it.”

“Dear god,” August says as he gets up and goes to pick up the front end of the car. I’m in a panic the moment I realize what he’s going to do.

“August, stop!” I yell from the back seat.

He jerks to a stop and looks over at me. “What’s wrong?”

“Take your shirt off first. I wanna see your muscles,” I say.

“God, you’re fucking smart!” Deus says.

“Thank you,” I say, but August weirdly doesn’t seem to think so as he picks the car up—completely clothed—so my brother can roll out. Brandon’s a little dirty but no worse for wear, really.

Mom and Dad climb into the back seat and so does August and then Brandon. Deus looks between all of us before eyeing my father’s lap. “Do you mind, big boy?” he asks.

Dad pats his lap and Deus climbs right on as Valerie glowers back at us all.

“What are you doing?” she asks, like it’s not apparent.

Mom’s eyes latch on to Valerie’s, and I have a feeling things are gonna get dark. “You dare think you could keep my favorite child from me?”

“Wait a minute…” Brandon says, eyebrows furrowing. “I thought Nolan was your favorite! It’s not nice to lie!”

“You dare keep my third-born son from me?” she asks. “It does not matter if we are villains, we are hisfamily.”

“So I’m not your favorite?” I ask, kind of peeved. “I did all that shit for you guys and made you so rich!”

Valerie’s eyes shift to mine. “You told me your money was from your deceased grandfather.”

“I mean… yeah. Dead Pop Pop RIP.” I give August a grimace.

Deus is just watching the show in the cradle of my father’s arms, which is fucking weird. Honestly, I assumed I’d be used to fucking weird by this point in my life, but clearly, I’m not.

“You all will be thoroughly checked before entering and are not allowed to use your powersat all,” Valerie orders.

“Thoroughly checked?” Brandon asks. “Like you’re going to stick your finger up my bum?”

“Dear god,” Valerie mutters.

“Saying ‘dear god’ is your issue!” Deus says. “Praise be the demons, you mean!”

August shifts to me. “Do you ever feel like you hit your headreallyhard and that you actually have brain damage that causes you to hallucinate and hear things that can’t really be happening?”

“Every day of my life. I assume I had this since birth, actually,” I assure him.

“You did have a cone head when you came out,” Mom says, which I feel like is information no one needs.

“How are you feeling?” August asks.

“You mean I can feel things? I don’t know what they did to me, but my head is fuzzy. I’m seeing things and hearing things. Or maybe that’s just my family.”

“Ah, they must have slipped some to me too,” he says.

“See? You’re fine. You’ve just been drugged. Which would be better than this scenario.” I lean into him as the driver heads to the secure underground parking area. Once we’re completely closed in and “safe,” we start falling out of the vehicle we’ve all been packed into.

“I’ll carry you,” August decides.

“No, I’m fine,” I say, though I agree to take his hand. Obviously, that’s not enough as I’m stuffed into a wheelchair that Wyatt has brought out to us. “Where did you even get this? I can walk.”

---