Chapter 14 Present
Present
Leo
Once I’ve climbed down from the ledge of my mini-mental breakdown over the discovery of my apparently lethal new power, we don’t linger in the mansion.
Rohan wants to burn the building down with his dad’s corpse inside it, but Jack talks him out of it, begrudgingly, making it clear that if it weren’t for me, he’d be one hundred percent be on board for setting fire to the mansion.
It’s easy to see their sibling resemblance when they’re yearning for some mayhem and disappointed when they don’t get it.
When Rohan first told me that Jack and Dan were his brothers, I wasn’t certain what to think about it.
I was even less certain how to tell Jack the truth.
I’d meant to do it right after we got home, but then so much carnage happened, and there didn’t seem to be a right moment.
Although I think most of that was just me putting it off.
I knew how Jack would react to the news, and I wasn’t looking forward to that reaction at all.
I wish now that I’d just bitten the bullet and told him because the way he found out was so brutal, and I saw how viciously it affected Jack to realise the man who he’d hated for most of his life was the same man partially response for the creation of that life.
I can’t really imagine how messy his emotions must be right now.
Not just about his biological father but the revelation about Rohan too.
We find Damon, Rex, and Dan waiting for us a little ways down the road at our agreed meeting point, which is an immense relief, as I was half worried we’d find them dead or kidnapped by OI when it became clear how far ahead Stone was in this game.
He seemed unbeatable in that moment, but it turns out detonating someone’s heart kills monsters just as well as anyone else.
Surprise flashes across Dan’s face for a second before it’s wiped away, tucked back behind a sturdy mask of watchful detachment. His eyes snag the longest on Jack, steady and alert, possibly waiting to be tackled to the dirt road for helping a drugged Rohan lead us into a trap.
Damon and Rex don’t even get the chance to ask what happened before Jack is striding up to his brother and shoving at his chest. He pushes him so hard that Dan’s back slams up against the side of the van, denting the metal with his large body.
Dan doesn’t retaliate, allowing himself to be pinned by Jack’s forearm shoved up under his chest, cutting into his throat.
“Did you know about this, you prick?” he snarls into Dan’s face.
I’m confused by the question at first since there’s zero doubt in my mind that Dan knew about this whole setup. What remains unclear is whether he was mind-controlled into doing it or not, but right now that probably doesn’t matter.
But Dan seems to understand the real question that Jack is asking, his response brutally caustic. “Happy Father’s Day, Liam Stone.”
Liam Stone. Jesus, fuck. Maybe that was the name Jack was given when he was first born? Before his mother tried to, what, leave? What else can you do when you have an affair with a man like Ian Stone that produces two children, other than take your kids and run like hell?
Jack stares at his twin, jaw clenched so tight the muscles tick, his eyes a frenzied mass of roiling green fire.
He yanks Dan away from the van, then slams him back into it with twice the force, further denting the metal.
Dan grunts in pain but doesn’t make any move to escape his brother’s vitriol.
He just lets it happen, gaze breaking away from Jack’s face to fixate on me instead, his shoulders slumped in a resigned stubbornness that seems to infuriate Jack even more.
There’s no overt apology on his face, but I know it’s there, lurking somewhere beneath the surface.
Dan isn’t nearly as cold and indifferent as he wants to be.
It seems like a fucking bad idea to get involved, which is exactly why I do it anyway.
I stride up to them with way more confidence than any sane person would dare to have and plant myself next to Dan, grabbing Jack’s arm, the one he has punched into the side of the van beside Dan’s head, and squeezing it, silently asking him to look at me.
Jack is visibly trembling with fury, his entire body, containing all that muscle and might and inhuman power, primed for violence, his hair-trigger temper set to fire at even the slightest pressure.
“Jack, come on,” I plead when he refuses to divert his attention from Dan, too busy glaring at his twin with flaring nostrils and brows dug so deeply into his head that the gap between them almost disappears completely.
“Please, babe, I know this whole thing is fucked, and you’ve got every right to be pissed, but smashing up our van won’t help.
And hurting Dan won’t undo anything either. ”
“Hurting him?” Jack scoffs, pressing his forearm cruelly into Dan’s larynx, cutting off his air with real intent this time. “I bloody killed him, Leo, and the fucker still came back.”
Rex and Damon are watching all this play out with mildly bemused expressions although Rex has the audacity to look bored.
“Well, you know what they say, brother,” Dan croaks out, managing to sound droll even with a crushed throat. “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”
I sigh heavily and resist the urge to slap him myself. “Dan, thanks for the advice, but please don’t help.”
Dan darts a glance over at me and grins, flashing all his pearly white teeth at me like a cartoon shark, genuine mischief, the nightmare, on his face.
“Go on, Jack, give it another shot,” he chokes daringly.
“No one wants to fuck a man who lacks follow-through. Tell him, Leo. When you decided to hook up with a murderer, you didn’t think you’d get one who was so shit at it, right? ”
I tug at Jack’s arm again, grasping his chin with my other hand and forcing him to look at me.
Jack is strong enough to resist me if he really wants to, but he lets his head be jerked to the side, his gaze finally landing on my face.
His rage subsides the moment his eyes lock onto mine, like I hoped it would, and he immediately loosens his hold on Dan’s throat.
Jack leans into my hand when I cup his jaw, my thumb gently brushing his unshaven cheek, stubble pricking against my skin again and again as I offer the comfort that I know he secretly craves.
Jack heaves a shaky exhale and lets go of Dan completely, stepping back and yanking me along with him, his arm going around my waist and pulling me in against him with a vice-like grip.
I don’t mind it, preferring to be held so possessively after coming close to losing him back in the house.
Jack seems eased by my proximity, the violent coil unwinding inside him inch by inch the longer we stand there, fused together, my forehead pressed to his temple, seeking every possible point of contact we can make with all our clothes still on.
Dan, unhelpful as always, snorts like he’s just seen a particularly unimpressive magic trick. I flash him a quick middle finger for being a bastard, and Jack actually laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest in a deeply pleasant rumble.
“Fucking Christ,” Rohan suddenly explodes from behind us, “we don’t have time for this, you bloody pack of drama llamas.”
Rohan, officially done with our shit, apparently, gets into the back of the van, grabbing the burner phone we bought at the last truck stop just in case.
He climbs back out of the van, already punching in a number by memory.
He presses the phone to his ear, waiting impatiently for whoever he’s called to answer.
“I don’t think I even want to know what any of this shit is about, do I?
” Rex asks, stepping up to us, with Damon still hovering at his side, darting worried looks between us and Dan, who is leaning against the van with his arms crossed, head titled slightly to left as he stares narrowly at Jack and me.
I shake my head at Rex, choosing not to answer with anything concrete. If I can get away without explaining what went down in that house with Ian Stone, I’ll be more than happy to bury it alongside all my other trauma from the last few months.
“Ian Stone is dead,” Jack says, turning his head to look at Rex and Damon. “And Rohan was under mind control when he brought us here. It was all bullshit. He was the one who leaked FISA’s location to OI.”
Damon’s eyes widen in disbelief. “What?”
Rex wrinkles his nose, like we just told him his favourite restaurant was closing down, mildly bothered but not devastated. He seems more annoyed than shocked by the revelation that Rohan technically betrayed us as if he resents his time being wasted on this whole endeavour.
“Who are you calling?” I ask Rohan.
Rohan doesn’t respond, but my enhanced hearing lets me know who it is when North answers the phone with a barked demand to tell him who the fuck is calling him.
“Calm your tits, Aaron,” Rohan says, with more familiarity than I’m used to.
He’s usually more formal with North. I’ve definitely never heard him use his first name before.
“It’s me. I’m here with your son, his boyfriend, and Leo.
” A pause, then he pulls a face like he wants to spit on the ground. “And my psycho little brothers.”
I’m surprised again when North exhales over the phone with audible relief.
At first I think it’s just due to the confirmation of Damon’s safety, but then he says gruffly, “Thank God. I was scared out of my fucking mind, kid. Where the hell have you been? Where are you? Tell me, and I’ll come get you right now.
” He sounds genuinely emotional—compromised in a way I thought him incapable of—his voice tinged with fear and desperation, like he yearns to reach through the phone and grasp hold of Rohan with both hands.