Chapter Eight #2
I lean back; the words circling in my head, colliding with every unanswered question we’ve been dragging around.
The explosions. The dropping bodies and the chaos unraveling piece by piece around our fathers’ empire.
My gut twists as the truth stitches together.
“All of it,” I mutter. “The deaths, the fires, the total fucking turmoil—it’s been her. This entire time.”
Rowan shifts, his gaze narrowing. “Then who’s she working with? She couldn’t have done all this alone.”
I raise a brow, cutting him a look sharp enough to stop him mid-breath.
“You really think she’s working with anyone?
You know her as well as I do. Berk doesn’t trust people.
Not anymore. The likelihood is she’s on her own.
And if that’s true…” A grim smile twists my mouth, pride and worry colliding in equal measure.
“She’s out there fucking shit up. More than we ever could’ve imagined. ”
Silence hangs between us, weighted by what isn’t said. At last, I rake a hand through my hair and let out a slow, steady breath. “We need to find her. Make sure she’s okay—first. Then…” I swallow, throat tight. “Then we take care of her, however she’ll let us.”
Rowan’s voice softens, but it’s laced with longing.
“I just want to hold her,” he admits, the words barely making it past his lips.
His voice cracks, and he clears his throat roughly, like he can force the weakness out.
The rawness in him is hard to watch, so I don’t push.
Instead, he curses under his breath, pulling out his phone, his thumb swiping across the screen with more force than necessary.
“Where the hell is my brother?” he growls, frustration darkening his tone.
As if the universe can’t resist twisting the knife, Bryce’s name flashes across my phone screen, glowing like a curse.
Rowan’s eyes snap to it the same second mine do, and the air in the room turns to stone.
I don’t hesitate—I swipe to answer and hit speaker, needing him to hear every word, needing both of us to share the weight of what’s about to come.
Bryce doesn’t give me the chance to speak.
His voice explodes through the line, a scream so raw it distorts, filling the living room with venom.
“Bring her back! You hear me, Emerson? Bring Kimber back right now!” His rage is frantic, spittle practically audible even through the phone, and yet underneath it, I hear it—fear.
A tremor in his tone that makes me smile.
I lean back in my chair, letting his fury wash over me like static, unbothered.
Then I laugh, low and sharp, the sound slicing through his rant.
“You’ll never see her again, Bryce. You’ll never see any of us again.
Better start preparing for what’s coming, because you’ve got a storm headed your way. ”
There’s a beat of silence, then his voice comes back, still loud but quivering, the cracks showing. “You don’t know what you’re getting into. You boys think you can—” He cuts off, as if the words choke him, like he already knows the walls are closing in.
That’s the best part. The warning he tries to spit out doesn’t come with power—it comes with dread. He’s trembling, and he knows it. Rowan catches my eye, and for the first time tonight, we share something sharp and vicious: satisfaction.
But even as my blood sings with it, I keep my mouth shut about the one thing that could tip the scales too far.
Berk. Her name doesn’t leave my lips, not even hinted at.
She’s ours to protect, no matter what, and the world doesn’t get to know about her unless she decides it’s time. Until then, she’s our secret weapon.
“Go to hell,” I say flatly, and then end the call.
The silence that follows is louder than his screaming.
“Fucking shit. I can’t believe it’s finally happening.
” The words rip out of me, raw and disbelieving, as the weight of it slams into my chest. For so long it felt like we were clawing at shadows, circling the same cage, waiting for something to break.
And now—it’s here. The first crack in the armor.
The first step toward tearing everything down.
Rowan and I both exhale, the sound shaky, like we’ve been holding our breath for years without knowing it.
Then we’re grinning—wide, unguarded grins that ache in my cheeks because it’s been so damn long since either of us has had reason to smile.
It feels foreign, dangerous even, like hope is some fragile thing we don’t deserve, but I let it in anyway.
Rowan does too. For this moment, we’re not just broken men. We’re brothers again.
I pull him into a rib-crushing embrace, the kind that steadies a racing heart. The kind that promises I’ve got you—even if the rest of the world comes undone. When we step back, I clap him on the shoulder and force my voice steady. “Call Ronan. We need to fill him in.”
Rowan dials, and when the screen lights up, our brother’s face fills it.
Ronan’s smirk is pure arrogance, smug and sharp enough to cut, but it’s the details that make my stomach twist. There’s blood smeared across his jaw, dried in streaks down his neck.
His hair is a mess, wild and tousled like hands—no, fingers—just raked through it.
And the look in his eyes? It’s feral. Dangerous.
Like he’s riding a high that has nothing to do with drugs.
I don’t know whether to be relieved he’s alive or terrified of what the hell he’s been doing while we’ve been here.
“Hey,” he greets, voice casual, cocky, like we’re just catching up after a long day instead of standing on the edge of war.
“Got some news to share with you.” His eyes narrow, sharp and assessing, flicking back and forth across the screen.
He takes us in like we’re pieces on a board, already calculating moves before we’ve made them.
And then it happens—his smirk falters, just barely, because he sees it.
He sees us. The weight off our shoulders, the rare ease in our expressions.
Smiles. Real fucking smiles for the first time in years.
His head tilts, suspicion gleaming. “What happened?”
Rowan and I exchange a look—a wordless beat where the weight of it all hangs between us.
But for the first time in years, it isn’t sharpened with blame or poisoned with regret.
It’s heavy, yeah, but it’s shared—something that almost feels like relief.
My throat tightens, the words scraping raw as I force them out.
“Kimber’s with us,” I say, and even that alone feels like a miracle.
“We’ve got custody—papers signed, sealed.
Picked her up ourselves.” The memory flashes through me: walking out of that station, Kimber’s small hand clutching mine, the officer sliding the file across the counter like it was nothing.
Like it wasn’t the single most important moment of my life.
I drag in a breath, steadying. “We used a ditch car, circled downtown, shook anyone who might’ve been watching.
Dropped it outside a candy shop, slipped through the back.
Rowan was waiting. Nobody followed. Nobody saw.
” My jaw clenches. “And Bryce… he didn’t know.
Not until just now. He called, screaming, losing his shit.
” I pause, my chest burning, the word clawing its way up my throat again like it doesn’t belong to me, like saying it out loud might break it apart.
But I push it out. “Safe.” I swallow hard. “My sister’s safe.”
Ronan doesn’t respond right away. The cocky grin fades into something darker, more dangerous.
His jaw ticks, his eyes harden, and I can almost feel the shift in him through the screen.
Then his attention flicks away, off to the side.
His posture changes, softens in a way I’ve never seen from him before.
He mutters something low, almost tender, and then leans out of frame.
It’s the way his body moves, the way his mouth lingers, pressing against someone unseen, that makes it click.
Rowan stiffens beside me, his eyes narrowing, voice dropping to a whisper like saying it any louder might shatter the fragile air between us. “He’s with Berk.”
The words hit me like a fist to the chest. My mind scrambles, my mouth moving before my brain catches up.
“Are you with Berk? Is that who you’re talking to?
” The question cracks as it leaves me, her name tearing its way through my throat.
“I don’t expect her to talk to us. Not after what we did.
But… please. Tell her thank you. For Kimber. For saving her.”
At Kimber’s name, Ronan’s expression darkens again, storm clouds rolling in, a flicker of something dangerous shifting under the surface.
It throws me, confusion tightening in my gut.
But then his lips curl into a deliberate smirk, and he tilts his head, smugness dripping off him again.
“You want to say hi, baby?” His lower lip juts out in a mocking pout before he looks back at us.
“She’s not ready yet. But we’re stopping at her place to grab her things before we head your way. ”
Rowan leans in, steady where I’m unraveling.
His voice is rough, heavy with truth, every word a vow.
“Berkley… I’ll wait for you. As long as it takes.
Thank you—for Kimber. And for helping us burn this poisonous empire to the ground.
” His voice wavers, just once, before he clears his throat, pushing through.
Silence stretches across the call, heavy and suffocating, until the faintest movement cuts through it.
A glimpse. A shadow. Ronan dips his head, burying his face in the curve of her neck, his lips pressing to her skin in a kiss that feels more like a claim.
My chest squeezes so tight I can’t breathe.
And then, without warning, the call cuts out.
I slam the phone down harder than I should, pulse hammering, fury and relief tangling like barbed wire in my veins. That smug bastard did that call on purpose. He wanted us to see just enough to know she’s with him.