Chapter 13 #2
Ezra has been able to read me like a goddamn book since the day he pulled me out of the shit I got myself into. I was sixteen and breached systems that no one my age had any business touching—hell, that anyone had any business touching.
It started small, innocent even.
If you call hacking innocent.
I was a kid trying to get my hands on unreleased games, find cheat codes, and sell access to servers that gave players god-like powers.
It was all a game to me back then, walking through walls in a virtual world, bending the rules.
I wasn’t doing it for money, not at first. I did it for the rush, for the control.
Then I got cocky, poking around in places I had no business being. I hacked into an email account linked to a game developer, thinking I’d find more game code or maybe some juicy company secrets. Instead, I stumbled onto a secure server.
The server had military-grade simulations. Real ones. Helicopter simulators, weapon designs—stuff that wasn’t supposed to be seen by someone like me. I was too far in, too hungry for the thrill, so I downloaded everything I could get my hands on.
That’s how I went from stealing game code to hacking the US military.
Total coincidence, but it didn’t matter.
The police didn’t care if I meant to do it or not. They found out, and that’s when the walls closed in on me.
Ezra found me at the edge of that cliff, caught between prison and the void.
Instead of turning me in, he pulled me out.
He saw something in me that no one else did.
I wasn’t some punk kid messing around with code.
I was good. He gave me a choice. Either rot away in juvie or work with law enforcement for a few years to track down other hackers as a punishment for what I’d done.
I glance over at Ezra, his usual expression—a mix of tired patience and unwavering determination—fixed on me like he’s already decided to forgive whatever mess I’ve made before I even finish making it.
I owe him everything.
Oscar took me in when Ezra brought me to his doorstep.
I was a kid from a broken home with a violent father and a mother too scared to look me in the eye.
Hacking and being out at night on the streets, looking for fights so I didn’t have to be home, was my escape.
It was the only thing I could control. But even that went too far.
I go for the bag again, unloading on it with rapid-fire punches.
Ezra steps away as the sandbag starts to sway wildly, the chain above it groaning with each hit. I’m panting hard, but I keep going. He doesn’t interrupt, seeming content to stand by me as I work through my issues on the bag.
I don’t know how much time passes before I hear footsteps behind me. Panting from the exertion, I look up to see Alaric standing at the door, a sheepish look on his face.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you guys were down here,” he explains, his hand still on the doorframe, halfway in, halfway out.
Typical.
I wave him in, breathing heavily but trying to play it cool. “Don’t worry, come in. We’re done anyway.”
Ezra shoots me a look, but he doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he shrugs and heads out, leaving me alone with Alaric.
I hate that Ezra and Alaric don’t get along.
It can’t be because Alaric is a thief or a so-called jail rat.
I mean, I’m a fucking criminal, too, and Ezra treats me like we’re brothers.
Alaric moves to the weight section and lies on the bench, preparing to lift. I wander over and stand behind him. “Need a spotter?”
Alaric glances up, his expression neutral. “No, thank you.”
It’s been months since I’ve seen him down here. Months since he’s been anything but a shadow. The muscles in his arms strain as he grips the bar, and something nags at me.
“You ever wonder…” I say, keeping my voice casual, “… if maybe you have such a fear of abandonment because you keep abandoning yourself in an attempt to stop other people from abandoning you? Just a thought.”
Alaric freezes, staring up at me, his expression unreadable for a second. Then he sighs. “Fine. Spot me.”
I step up, placing my hands near the bar as he lifts. I know I hit a nerve, but this is Alaric. He’ll never admit it.
“It’s good,” I say softly. “That you’re coming out of your room again.
” He halts mid-rep, tension creeping into his shoulders that has me briefly hesitating before I push on.
“We don’t have to talk or anything. I only wanted to let you know that I noticed when you went silent, and I’m glad you’re not anymore.
I’m glad to have you back. You’re like a brother to me.
I was worried that our family was falling apart there for a second.
I can’t handle losing any of you after losing him. ”
The words hang in the air for a moment, and that old familiar ache for Oscar hits me in the chest.
Fuck, I miss him. The way he could fix things without even trying or say the right thing when the rest of us stumbled over our own broken pieces.
He would have never let Alaric retreat like that.
I have to do a better job of being there for him.
Alaric’s face is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes before he starts back up with the reps. “How come we’re getting all emotional today?”
“You know me, I’m an emo.” I give a half-smile. “And repressed feelings go to the cellar to lift weights, only to come back on a random Tuesday and punch you in the face.”
He huffs out a breath. “Sure, but still.”
I crook a smile. “That random girl they’re trying to push on you…” Alaric huffs, his arms shaking under the weight, so I pause as he finishes another rep before I speak again. “You know she’s not going to replace you, right?”
Alaric huffs again in answer, more dismissively this time.
“It’s like Dove told you. She’s here because you don’t have the tits for the job.
” He laughs, the sound genuine, if not a little surprised, and I chuckle with him.
“She’s going to do this job,” I continue.
“Then we’re going to pay her whatever she wants in return, and she’ll be gone.
She comes and goes. You… you’re never leaving, okay?
You weren’t here because of the plan. Oscar brought you here because you belong here. Because you’re family.”
Alaric’s breath hitches, and when he looks up, his eyes are brimming with unshed tears, even if he’s obviously trying hard to suppress them. “You think so?”
I meet his gaze again, holding it steady. “I know so. Now come on, five more.”
He grunts through the last five reps and then sits up, wiping the sweat from his brow. He doesn’t meet my eyes right away, but when he does, his voice is quieter, almost raw. “I’m sorry, Sy. I was just… hanging on, trying to survive. But I think… I think I’m ready to try and start healing now.”
The relief I feel is instant, but I don’t let it show too much. I simply nod, stepping closer and almost clapping him on the shoulder before thinking better of it. “Heal out loud, man. We almost lost you in that silence.”
Alaric’s lips twitch into a small smile. “I’ll try. Right now, all I can give is about ten percent. And you know I wasn’t one hundred percent when I met you guys in the first place.”
I crouch down next to him. “If you give ten percent on a day where you’ve only got ten percent in you, then you’ve still given a hundred percent. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
He nods, the tension easing from his body if only a little. “Okay.”
I grab Alaric’s hand, pull him to a stand, and hug him. “I don’t know how right now either, but we’re going to make it. It’s going to be okay as long as we stick together.”
Alaric is stiff as a board, and I think I’ve fucked up the little progress we made because I can’t seem to respect his boundaries. Then he relaxes into the hug.
Oh my God.
It only lasts a few seconds, but when he steps back, he looks me over, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he eyes my cropped shirt. “You don’t have any shirts that are long enough for you, you tall-as-fuck idiot?”
I chuckle, clapping my abs for emphasis. “You’re just jealous of this build.”
Alaric huffs and pulls up his shirt, revealing a set of abs. He was broader a few months ago, but even now, he’s still fucking ripped. “Oh yeah? I can have it and not be a show-off. I’m not a stripper.”
“Please,” I scoff. “You’re not pretty enough to be one, dickhead.” He laughs again, shaking his head as he racks the weights. “All right,” I say, ready to leave while we’re on a high. “I’m off to get a shower. Maybe find myself a real stripper.”
The only stripper I’m interested in.
Just as I’m heading for the door, Koen, Levi, and Ezra walk in.
Great. So much for leaving on a good note.
Koen’s gaze lands on Alaric. “Ric, I—”
“I want to help,” Alaric interrupts, holding up a hand. “I’m going to help.”
“That’s… amazing. Thank you, bro.” Koen’s eyes flick to me for a moment, and I catch the subtle nod of appreciation before he turns back to Alaric.
“You’re welcome,” I mutter under my breath, smirking, and Ezra rolls his eyes at me.
Okay, maybe he’s the one who should get the praise for this.
Koen steps closer. “We saw her today. She’s good, but we’d like your input.”
Alaric nods. “That’s okay. I’ll help where I can. But…” A shadow of hesitation crosses his face. “I don’t think I’m ready to leave the house.”
Ezra, standing beside Levi, doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s not coming into the house. No way we let her in here.”
Levi rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, you big grump.”
Ezra’s sharp look silences him immediately. “I said no, Dove.”
Levi shudders, his playful expression dropping. Ezra rarely pulls the I’m the oldest and the boss here card, but when he does, it means he’s not messing around.
How the hell are we going to get Alaric out of here without him spiraling into a panic attack?
That’s the last thing we need right now.
Koen breaks the silence. “I have an idea…”