“Your ass is so goddamn lucky that I don’t want to explain to Cori why I rearranged your face,” Royal spat.
I braced a hand on the wall, trying to regain the ability to inhale. “Hey, big brother.”
“Don’t give me that shit,” he snarled, more surly than usual, but that wasn’t surprising. The man was a stone-cold killer who could terrify a death-row inmate into pissing his pants, but he turned into a marshmallow for Corinne Cain.
“Ryan and Maddie already read me the riot act,” I snapped, irritation licking through my veins.
“You think I give a fuck?” Royal’s voice rumbled low, practically a growl. His gaze swept down my body, his lip curling in disgust. “Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you? That bent out of shape over a girl who—correct me if I’m wrong—you pushed away. Again.”
My hands knotted into fists, my knuckles popping. “Oh, that’s rich coming from the poster boy for emotional dissociation.”
He smirked, his head tilting. “Better than acting like a lovesick little bitch who’s too scared to face reality.”
Fury pounded in my skull, and I threw a wild right hook before I even finished letting the words settle in. Royal blocked the punch with practiced ease before landing another blow to my ribs. It hurt, but I knew he’d pulled back. My oldest brother was built like a goddamn tank and had fists the size of ham hocks. I’d seen him dent a dude’s skull in a single blow.
If Royal Woods wanted me comatose or dead, there wasn’t much I’d be able to do to stop him. Yeah, I knew how to fight, but I was breaking the cardinal rule: Never fight with emotion.
But it seemed like all I could do was mess up.
Royal studied me, the anger etched into his face morphing into something that looked a lot like concern. “Come on, kid. Talk to me.”
I bristled at his tone. I was seven years younger than him, but sometimes he felt more like my father than Jasper Woods had ever been. My father—our father—was a sadistic asshole who had fallen off the grid when we took down Maddie’s and Ryan’s dads a few weeks earlier. I wasn’t stupid enough to think Jasper was gone for good. No, he was holed up somewhere, likely plotting his next steps.
I might’ve hated the man, but there was no denying he was smart as hell. He’d been appointed one of the youngest generals in the history of the United States Army. He’d fought and manipulated his way to the top, even going so far as to sire his own army of sons.
Looking at Royal, I could see the similarities between us, traits dear old Dad had passed on. The straight Roman nose, the strong jaw. But I had dark eyes like my mother, while Royal’s were a blueish gray that looked like his mother’s.
Jasper couldn’t even use the excuse that he’d had an affair because my mom’s pregnancy with me had complications that left her infertile after giving birth. Royal, Rook and Bishop were older than me, while our other brothers, Knight and Castle, were younger. I was right in the middle. Oddly enough, Jasper had only one mistress, Holly. He’d been with her since they were teens, but she wasn’t high class enough to be considered wife material, so he’d relegated her to being a decorative side piece who’d birthed him an army.
Over the course of a decade, Holly had given Jasper six sons and a stillborn daughter. Only five of my brothers were still alive. The loss of her daughter and son had broken Holly, and I knew it pissed my brothers off to no end that she remained Jasper’s doormat. Holly never fought Jasper.
Even though he was responsible for killing their son.
I’d never known King, who’d been closest in age to me. He’d been born six months before me, and his death had been the catalyst that ultimately led to a naked woman shouting at my best friend’s autistic sister less than thirty minutes earlier.
God, my life was fucked. I was blaming my dead brother for my world going to shit.
“Drop it,” I snapped, turning away and stripping off the towel to get dressed. If Royal had an issue with having my ass in his face, he could leave.
I finished pulling on jeans and a Henley before turning back to my brother, who was watching me with his arms folded over his massive chest. After a beat, his gaze wandered around the room. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”
I ignored the tone, because I knew he was right. Since moving in, I hadn’t done a damn thing with the space. The only furniture in the room was my bed, a black dresser, a matching desk with a chair, and a black bookcase that was empty except for a single framed photograph, taken at Ryan and Maddie’s wedding, of them with me, Linc, Ash, my brothers, and… her.
The photo was there only because Maddie had put it there when we first moved in. I’d tried more times than I could count to throw it in the trash, but every time I did, I put it back.
I told myself I left it there to make Maddie happy, but my subconscious was all too happy to remind me that I needed to see it when I woke up after a weekend bender and wound up cuddling the goddamn picture like it was my blankie.
All because of her.
My heart clenched, and I damn near gasped. I’d written the organ off as dead long ago, but, of course, she was the one who could make it beat again.
It was always her.
Following my gaze, Royal ambled to the bookcase and lifted the frame. “Talk to her.”
Grimacing, I sat on my bed to pull on my socks and boots. “Are we leaving?”
Royal glanced back at me, his expression a blank mask. “Are you done being a bitch?”