Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lucian
I open the door expecting a Bachman.
“Gregory?” My voice catches, disbelieving.
The young man on the doorstep blinks back at me, that same damn crooked smile tugging at his lips. The same crooked smile as Bayne’s, and that similarity was what made me trust Bayne when I met him.
The wind tousles his sandy hair, which is a bit longer than the last time I saw him, a year ago, when I visited him at Oxford for his graduation, curling over his ears.
He stayed in England afterward, and it never would have crossed my mind to have him come here, even though we’re finally in the same country.
His outfit suits these moors: dark gray rain pants and a lighter gray Patagonia jacket designed for the impending rain. He loves the outdoors, including camping, rock climbing, and other adventurous activities.
I sent him lots of those kinds of clothes and outdoor gear for birthdays, Christmas, and graduations.
Hell, anything I could think of to celebrate.
His eyes—those fucking eyes—are identical to mine, but better.
Gentler. Clearer. Unhardened.
Exactly how I wanted them, and for that, I let a little pride swell in my chest.
“Hi, Luce,” he says softly. “It’s been a while.”
My chest cracks open. “What the hell are you doing here?” But I don’t wait for an answer. I grab him and pull him into a hug, nearly choking the air from his lungs. His arms wrap around me just as tightly.
He’s here.
My baby brother.
And I hold him longer than he wants, trying to squirm from my arms before I’m ready to let go.
Just like he did when he was a kid, and I’d drop him off at boarding school.
After all this time, after years of working my ass off, taking risks so he didn’t have to, and keeping him out of this world—
He’s standing in the eye of the storm.
I pull back, gripping his shoulders. “How the hell did you find me?”
“Bayne,” he says with a shrug. “Said you were alive. Said you might need family.”
I let out a low laugh, incredulous. “Bayne sent you?” I don’t know if I want to kill Bayne for bringing Gregory here or thank him.
Gregory nods. “He said something about how even lone wolves need their pack sometimes.” He shrugs again. “I booked the first flight here from Heathrow. A little tin can kinda thing they called a plane.”
Behind me, Erin calls gently, “Everything okay?”
“Come in, meet Erin.” I shuffle us all into the warmth of the living room and close the door.
She cautiously steps toward him, wrapped in my heavy green jacket, her jeans tucked into her boots. Her eyes scan Gregory, her brows raising. “You didn’t say all you Bachmans look alike, too.”
“Erin, this is Gregory.” I pause, bracing for the punchline. “My brother.”
She tilts her head. “Right. Gregory Bachman.”
I smirk. “No. My little brother.”
“Like, blood brother?” Her gaze flicks to me. “I didn’t know you had one.”
“Exactly how I planned it,” I mutter.
Gregory’s eyes crinkle. “You kept me a secret?”
“I kept you safe,” I say. “There’s a difference.”
Erin nods with a slight smile and gestures toward the kettle. “Coffee?”
Gregory hesitates. “Only if it’s not instant.”
“It is,” Erin replies cheerfully.
Gregory winces. “Then yes, please.”
She grins and turns back to the stove.
I lean against the wall, watching him take it all in—the rustic wood-paneled cabin, the battered couch, the table strewn with maps and weapon schematics. His gaze lingers on my sidearm, then the faint scar on my jaw, too noticeable for the growing beard to cover.
“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he says after a beat. “You’ve changed.”
“No shit.”
“You look older.”
“I am older.”
“You look dangerous.”
I grin. “That, I always was.”
He sobers. “And worried.”
That one cuts. When am I not? And now, with him here as well as Erin…
“Yeah.”
Erin drifts over and hands him a cup of her coffee. “I’ll make you some eggs,” she offers before going back to the stove.
“Thanks, I didn’t have time to eat.” He sniffs it, whispering to me, “This smells like the dirt outside.”
“It’s worse,” I say with a grin.
Still, he takes a sip and fights the grimace like a goddamn gentleman.
Reaching out, I grab his forearm resting on the table. “I missed you,” I say suddenly, before I can stop myself.
He meets my gaze. “It’s time you told me what really happened back then. With Carlos.”
I tense. “I didn’t leave. I was pushed out. You know that, right?”
“By Carlos?”
My jaw tightens with my answer, “Yes. Carlos.”
“Bayne told me… bits of the story, but I want to hear it from you. He said you survived something awful. A fire? Then stayed in one of his safehouses for a while.”
I stare out the window. The trees sway. My voice is low when I say, “Warehouse in Manhattan. Carlos set us up. Burned half my crew alive. We lost everything. Including—” I break off.
His brows raise, and he lowers his voice. “Isobel?”
“Yeah.” My hands curl into fists. I force a breath. “I kept you out of it all for a reason. You were meant to live a normal life. Get your degrees. Get married. Be boring.”
Gregory smiles faintly. “I did all that. Got the degrees. Didn’t get married. And I’m not here because I want to play mobster.”
“Then why?”
He sets the mug down. “Because I know what it feels like to lose a brother.”
I close my eyes.
“You disappeared,” he continues. “And when Bayne reached out from nowhere, I figured if you were finally this close to me, standing on the same soil, and I had a chance to fix that—I’d take it.”
Erin comes back then, handing him a plate of toast and eggs, just like I made for her earlier this morning. He accepts it with a grateful nod. She stays next to me, and I tuck her under my arm.
“Thanks, Erin,” I murmur.
Gregory quirks a brow. “So…girlfriend?”
“More than that,” I grin. “Try…feral housecat with a kitchen knife.”
Gregory laughs. “I like her.”
I press a kiss to her temple. “So do I.”
Erin leans in and whispers, “You okay?”
“Now I am,” I whisper back.
“Let me know if you two need anything at all. Except for real coffee. But I make a mean cuppa tea.” She goes to the stove to make herself another ‘cuppa,’ but I know she’s giving us space.
Gregory leans forward. “You really like this one, huh?”
“I do.” My jaw tightens. Too much.
He studies me for a moment. “That’s new.”
“Yeah. She’s new.”
Gregory lifts his cup. “To women.”
I lift mine. “To surviving them.”
As we clink mugs, I can’t shake the feeling that the past I've buried is creeping back. The moment I saw Gregory, I felt complete, as if everything I needed was in this cabin. But it also means the walls between my two worlds—blood and peace, violence and love—are thinner than I thought.
And now, my two favorite people are in serious jeopardy.
Is his showing up now a one-time thing, a check-in to see my real life, the one I shielded from him?
Or a new beginning I didn’t see coming?