Chapter Thirteen
Torin
Garett’s phone rang just as he settled under his covers and Torin on his mattress beside Garett’s bed. Torin startled as Garett’s phone buzzed angrily on the nightstand, its sharp vibration cutting through the stillness of the darkened room. He barely had time to adjust before Garett groaned, running a heavy hand over his face and reaching for the device. The dim glow from the screen cast harsh shadows across his sharp features, and the name flashing on the display—Dante—made Torin’s jaw tighten instantly.
“Shit,” Garett muttered before answering. “This better be good.”
Torin turned slightly, keeping still, though his heart had already begun to race. He didn’t need to hear the other end of the conversation to know something was wrong.
Garett sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “What the hell do you mean?” His voice, rough from sleep, held a sharp edge of irritation. A pause. Then a deep sigh, filled with barely contained frustration. “You didn’t mention I had to handle that too.”
Torin swallowed hard, his stomach twisting. He already knew they were talking about him.
“Unbelievable,” Garett growled, rubbing at his temple. “I guess he’ll have some explaining.”
Torin clenched the sheets beneath his fingers, his body going rigid as Garett shot him a glare over his shoulder. Even in the dim light, the disapproval was unmistakable.
“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” Garett snapped, ending the call with a sharp jab at the screen. He exhaled heavily, pressing his hands against his knees before turning to face Torin fully.
“Get dressed. Dante wants us at his house now.” His tone was sharp, laced with urgency.
Torin opened his mouth, but no words came out. His mind raced, trying to figure out just how bad this was—and what Garett was going to do about it. Torin barely had time to process the weight of Dante’s anger before Garett’s voice cut through the tense silence.
“And he’s pissed at you.”
Torin felt a cold dread settle in his gut. Dante being angry was one thing—Dante summoning him in the middle of the night was another. That meant he had truly screwed up. Swallowing hard, he turned toward his bedroom, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He was going to get Garett into trouble with the mob boss. He wished he knew what he had done to warrant this. Would Dante remove him from Garett? He wanted to stay with him, even when he was being too bossy. He certainly hoped Dante wouldn’t take over. Would he transfer him to a degrading job with a creepy boss? Fuck, this was way too much.
As Torin yanked open his closet, his hands trembled slightly, though he clenched his fists to steady them. He grabbed the first decent shirt he saw, his movements jerky with his frustration. His pulse pounded against his ribs, each beat a reminder of the confrontation that awaited him.
Buttoning his shirt, he caught his reflection in the mirror. His jaw was tight, his eyes burned with frustration and unease. No matter how much he tried to shove the anxiety down, it coiled in his stomach like a vice.
Torin exhaled sharply, trying to push aside the fear clawing at hm. He couldn’t afford to show weakness in front of Dante, or Garett for that matter. But deep down, he knew—walking into that house in the middle of the night meant facing a storm, and he wasn’t sure how hard it would hit.
The ride to Carrillo Ranch was long and silent, the rhythmic creaking of the stagecoach wheels filling the tense space between them. Torin kept his hands folded in his lap, gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the window. Garett hadn’t spoken a word since the phone call, his frustration hanging thick in the air between them. Torin worried Garett would grow to hate him for putting him at risk with Dante.
By the time they arrived, the ranch was bathed in moonlight, casting long shadows across the sprawling land. The house itself was large and imposing, a testament to wealth and power. Garett barely waited for the stagecoach to stop before stepping out, his movements sharp with irritation. Torin followed hesitantly, the knot in his stomach tightening as Garett strode up to the door and rang the bell.
The door swung open almost immediately, revealing Dante, his face a mask of barely restrained fury. His eyes burned with irritation, his lips pressed into a thin line as he took one look at Garett, then let his gaze settle on Torin.
“Torin, I thought you were smarter, but you’ve disappointed me with your childish antics,” Dante seethed, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he stepped back, the scent of old wood and floor polish filling the air. His grip on the doorframe was tight, his knuckles white. He didn’t wait for a response before pivoting on his heel. “Get in. Now.”
Torin swallowed and stepped past the threshold, feeling the weight of Dante’s anger like a physical thing pressing down on him. The house was dimly lit as Dante led them down a hall and into a spacious living room.
“Sit,” he ordered, motioning toward the leather couch.
Torin obeyed quickly, casting a wary glance at Garett, who remained standing, arms crossed over his chest. Dante paced once, then turned to face them fully, his expression dark with frustration.
“Torin!” he shouted. “You fucked up, boy.”
Torin’s stomach twisted into a tight knot as Dante’s voice thundered through the room. A cold sweat prickled at the back of his neck, and his pulse pounded in his ears. He kept his face blank, knowing better than to show weakness in front of the mafia boss, but inside, anxiety churned. He had expected Dante to be angry—disappointed, even—but the sheer force behind his words sent a shiver of unease down Torin’s spine. He looked around for Blaine, but he wasn’t in the room.
His mind raced, scrambling for what he had done, something that would lessen the weight of Dante’s fury, but he had no idea what he had done. His throat felt dry, and his fingers curled into fists on his lap. Frustration simmered beneath his skin—not just at Dante, but at himself. How could he have no clue to what he had done?
“You care to explain yourself?” Dante’s voice was deceptively calm, but the sharp edge in it sent a chill down Torin’s spine.
Torin swallowed hard. “Explain what, Sir?” he asked cautiously, though he had a sinking feeling it was something he couldn’t correct.
Dante let out a humorless chuckle and shook his head. “You really think you can just block your brother Liam’s number and pretend he doesn’t exist?” His jaw tightened as he took a step closer. “You think that’s how this works, boy?”
Torin’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t thought it would come to this. He had hoped that cutting off Liam, ignoring his calls, moving on, would be help him decide who he was and not what Liam wanted him to be. But apparently, Liam and Dante had other ideas about keeping in touch. Blocking Liam had been an impulsive decision, a way to shut out a past he wasn’t ready to deal with. Now, that decision had put him under Dante’s scrutiny.
“I—I didn’t think it was a big deal, Sir,” Torin admitted, his voice quieter than he intended.
Dante’s expression darkened. “Not a big deal?” he repeated, his voice lowering to a dangerous level. “Liam called me, Torin. Said he hadn’t heard from you. Said you blocked his damn number. And guess what?” He spread his arms wide. “I owed Liam a favor. And that favor was you.”
Torin’s breath caught. His gaze moved toward Garett, but Garett didn’t intervene. He just stood there, letting Dante handle it.
“Do you think you can just disappear?” Dante continued pacing now. “That’s not how this works. Liam trusted me to take you in, to put you under Garett’s care, and you repay him by shutting him out?”
Torin clenched his fists tighter, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, but what could he say? That he didn’t think his relationship with Liam was his fucking business? That he was trying to become his own person without Liam’s constant input? That he was trying to start over without his brother’s help? None of that would matter to Dante.
Dante stopped pacing and leveled Torin with a glare. “You’re going to call him,” he ordered. “Tonight. Right now.”
Torin’s stomach dropped. He didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to.
But as Dante stood there, waiting, and Garett remained silent, Torin knew he didn’t have a choice.
Torin’s breath came shallow as he sat frozen on the couch. Dante’s fury was like a storm, barely contained, and Torin had no shelter from it.
“You’re going to call him,” Dante ordered again, his voice cold and final. “Tonight. Right now.”
Torin’s throat tightened. His fingers twitched against his jeans, but he didn’t move. He didn’t want to do this. Calling Liam meant opening a door he’d slammed shut.
Dante wasn’t finished. His sharp gaze flicked to Garett. “And you,” he said, voice laced with authority. “You’re going to make sure he calls Liam every single week. No excuses. No missed calls. If I have to hear from Liam again about this, it won’t just be Torin dealing with me.”
Garett exhaled through his nose, his jaw tight. “Understood,” he said, his voice unreadable.
Torin turned to him, searching for some kind of out, some kind of resistance, but there was none. Garett would not fight this.
Dante’s lip curled. “This is non-negotiable, Torin. I don’t care what’s between you and Liam. You owe him a conversation. Every. Week.”
Torin clenched his teeth so hard it hurt, but he gave a stiff nod. He didn’t have a choice. He never had a choice.
Dante let the silence stretch for a moment, letting his words sink in before he turned, walking toward the bar cart in the corner. “Go on, then,” he said over his shoulder. “Make the call.”
Torin sat on the edge of the couch, the cold weight of the phone in his hand heavier than it should have been. The phone’s digital clock glowed 3:14 AM. His jaw tightened as he glanced at Dante, who stood over him.
“I told you to call him,” Dante ordered, voice calm but firm.
Torin exhaled sharply, bringing the phone to his ear. It rang once. Twice. He half-hoped it would go to voicemail, but on the third ring, a groggy but irritated voice answered.
“Who the hell is this?”
Torin winced. He should’ve known his brother wouldn’t recognize his number at this hour. He swallowed hard before forcing the words out.
“It’s me.”
A pause. Then a sharp intake of breath. “Torin? Are you serious right now?” Liam’s voice was edged with disbelief and frustration. “It’s the middle of the damn night.”
“I know,” Torin muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Dante…made me call you.”
“Dante made you? Are you actually kidding me right now?” Liam’s voice rose slightly, then he sighed, clearly trying to rein in his temper. “Why the hell did you block my number, Torin?”
Torin clenched his teeth, staring at the floor. “I—look, I was gonna unblock you eventually, alright?”
“Oh, great. Eventually,” Liam snapped. “That makes it so much better.”
Torin huffed. “I just…I needed space. Things got complicated, and I didn’t want to drag you into it.”
“That’s your excuse?” Liam scoffed. “That’s the best you’ve got? Torin, do you have any idea how worried I was? You vanished. I called and texted for days. So now you’re calling me in the middle of the night like it’s no big deal?”
Torin swallowed the guilt that surged in his chest. “I know. I screwed up. I shouldn’t have shut you out.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m sorry, Liam.”
Another pause. The kind that made Torin’s stomach knot up.
Liam finally exhaled, the frustration still there but softer now. “Yeah, well…it’s about damn time.”
Torin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “So…how are you?”
“How am I?” Liam let out a dry laugh. “I should be asking you that. Where the hell are you?”
Torin glanced at Dante, whose expression remained neutral but expectant. “I’m with Garett,” he said vaguely. “I’m staying with him now.”
Liam was quiet for a moment. “Right. And Dante made you call me. What exactly did you get yourself into, Tor?”
Torin tensed. “It’s complicated.”
“Uh-huh.” The skepticism in Liam’s tone was clear. “Fine. Be cryptic. But don’t think this means we’re done talking. You owe me a hell of a lot more than one half-assed apology in the middle of the night.”
Torin let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah…I figured.”
“Good. Now, get some sleep. And unblock my damn number.”
Torin smirked slightly, despite himself. “Yeah, yeah. I will.”
“Damn right you will,” Liam muttered before hanging up.
Torin lowered the phone, staring at the screen for a second before setting it down. He turned to Dante, who gave a single nod, apparently satisfied.
“Alright,” Dante said. “You and Garett can leave.”
Torin pushed himself up, glancing toward the doorway where Garett stood, watching him. Without another word, he followed him out.