15. Theodore
15
THEODORE
I walk down the corridor, my steps nearly silent against the polished floor.
A lot has changed since we arrived at the Whitmore estate. Months have passed, and the shock of our new life has dulled. Maxwell , Julian , and I aren’t just boys who were adopted into wealth. We are Whitmores now. Brothers .
I stop in front of Maxwell’s room and rap my knuckles against the wood.
“ Maxwell ,” I call. “ Open up.”
I knock again, harder this time. “ Maxwell .”
Silence .
Then , I hear shuffling and the creak of the mattress.
What is he up to?
I narrow my eyes, already suspicious, and reach for the door, twisting the handle and stepping inside.
What I see stops me in my tracks.
Julian is sprawled out on Maxwell’s bed, half-buried under the blankets, completely unbothered. What really catches my attention is the massive lump under the covers beside him. Before I can even open my mouth, Maxwell’s head suddenly pops out from beneath the sheets, his tousled black hair a mess, a wicked grin stretched across his face in a way that tells me I’ve walked in on something I shouldn’t have.
“ Hey , brother,” Maxwell snickers.
I blink.
Julian lets out a breath and shoves Maxwell’s head away with one hand, muttering, “ Idioto .”
I stare at them, my lips parting. “ What the actual fuck do you two do when I’m not around?” My voice rises a little, my fingers pressing into the doorframe. “ Why am I always catching you in these compromised positions?”
Maxwell bursts out laughing and kicks the blanket off, revealing himself in nothing but a pair of briefs, his lean form on full display.
Jesus fucking Christ .
The outline of his hard-on is still visible, straining against the fabric.
I immediately scowl, but my traitorous eyes dart down for half a second before I snap my gaze back up. Maxwell notices.
The bastard grins wider.
I immediately avert my gaze, running a hand down my face. “ For fuck’s sake, Maxwell .”
Instead of showing an ounce of shame, he jumps off the bed, standing tall.
“ Well , Theodore ,” he drawls, stepping forward. “ It looks like you’d also love to join in on the fun, wouldn’t you?”
He stretches his arms over his head; then, as if to really sell it, he does a few slow lunges.
I shake my head. How did I get stuck with this guy?
Julian scoffs. Then , without even looking, he grabs a pillow and hurls it at Maxwell’s head.
It smacks him right in the face, and Maxwell stumbles back, rubbing his forehead.
“ One day, I’m putting a lock on my memories of walking in on you assholes.”
Maxwell smirks. “ One day, you’re gonna walk in and not want to leave.”
I scowl. “ Fuck off.”
Despite my words and the ridiculousness of catching them like this again , I’m not mad.
I should be jealous of their bond, the way they always seem to gravitate toward each other, no matter where we are. They communicate without words, some silent understanding that’s just theirs . But I’m not.
Julian and Maxwell need each other in ways I don’t fully understand, and I’d never come between them.
Unless , of course, it was to maybe… watch.
The thought slides into my mind unbidden, tempting.
My dick twitches in my slacks.
I inhale sharply. Not now, Theo .
I straighten and roll my shoulders back, forcing the fantasy away. Clearing my throat, I say, “ I need you to follow me.”
Maxwell raises a brow, still smirking. “ No , thanks.”
I give him a flat look.
Julian sighs from the bed. “ Where ?”
“ The library.” I turn to the door, not waiting to see if they’ll follow. I know they will. “ I have something to show you.”
Behind me, I hear the rustle of blankets and the creak of the bed as Julian rises.
“ Now you’ve got me curious, brother,” Maxwell hums.
When we step into the massive library, I lead them to the long oak desk near the center of the room, where an assortment of books is stacked haphazardly. Some of them are from St . Dismas —the ones we managed to sneak out before we were pulled from the orphanage—but most are from here.
I’ve spent the last couple of months scouring these shelves, looking for answers. There are entire volumes dedicated to the Whitmores , to Vanguard —which, from what I’ve pieced together, is some kind of exclusive club, a society .
I lower myself into the leather chair behind the desk, running my fingers along the polished surface. Julian stands rigid, scanning the books piled high in front of us but keeping his hands to himself. Maxwell , as expected, has no such reservations. He picks up one of the tomes, flipping through its brittle pages, whistling low under his breath.
“ This place is a fucking goldmine,” he mutters.
“ You’ve been digging through all this for weeks now. Did you finally find something?” Julian asks.
My fingers graze the spine of a nearby book as I speak.
“ This territory has ties to something old and dark. There was a cult that used to perform sacrificial rituals on women. They would take them from the villages, slit their throats, and collect their blood. They drank it, fed on it.” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “ It was said that the blood of these randomly chosen women would bless the men, give them power.”
Maxwell exhales. “ Holy shit. You found all this in these books?”
I nod. “ Yes , and through articles.”
Their attention sharpens.
I glance toward the far shelves. “ I was searching through the tomes, looking for more connections, and I pulled a book from the shelf, only for it to move . Behind it was a secret door and a passage leading into a hidden hallway.”
Maxwell’s brows lift in intrigue and Julian’s eyes widen.
I rise from my chair. “ You need to see this for yourselves.”
I pull the lever, feeling it shift against my hand as the hidden opening reveals itself. The air in the secret passageway is thick and musty.
I pull a heavy box from one of the shelves. Dust stirs in the air as I lift the lid, revealing a collection of yellowed newspaper articles from The Black Quill stacked neatly inside.
Maxwell and Julian move in closer, eyes narrowed in confusion as I flip open the top layer.
Missing Woman Found Dead , Investigation into Disappearance Stalled , Families Beg Authorities for Help .
I keep pulling articles, one after another, and they all seem to blur together with the same tragic stories: missing women and families screaming for help.
Maxwell’s hand hovers over the papers as he reads. “ This is insane,” he whispers, flipping through them faster.
I don’t respond, my own mind racing as I move to the next box, smaller than the first, and set it down in front of them. The articles inside are more recent. I take one out, showing it to the guys.
Fatal Car Accident Claims Lives of Young Couple and Infant Son .
Celeste and Joseph Addington , along with their infant son, Andrew , were killed in a tragic car accident on the evening of July 16, 1991.
I look at Maxwell and Julian . Their eyes flick to each other, then back to me.
“ Do you think they could be your parents?” Maxwell asks.
My eyes lock on the headline.
I’ve never known much about where I came from, but the timeline lines up far too neatly to ignore.
Could I be related to the Addingtons ?
I swallow, my throat dry. “ Maybe .”
From my findings, the Addingtons were longtime allies of the Whitmores . They settled here together, building their legacies on this very land. They were the ones who called this place Ebonridge .
I look at the photo that accompanies the article. It’s faded, so the faces aren’t clear.
Maxwell and Julian exchange uneasy glances, their brows furrowing as they take in everything. But then Julian speaks up, confused. “ Wait a minute. This doesn’t add up. If the infant was dead, how the hell are you alive?”
It’s a good question.
“ As per the article, it says an infant’s body was never recovered from the debris after the accident. They assumed the baby was dead because of it. They claimed it was burnt to ashes by the fire from the crash.”
I can feel the blood rushing in my ears as the implications start to hit me. If that was really me, and I wasn’t in the car, then where the hell was I ? And why would they cover up my survival?
“ So , what happened to you? If they didn’t find your body, then who took you?” Julian questions.
There are too many questions, too many answers I don’t have yet. But one thing’s for sure: this wasn’t just some freak accident.
A sudden noise sounds from the corridor. My heart skips in my chest, and all the breath I was holding rushes out in a sharp exhale.
Maxwell’s eyes grow wide. “ Shit . Someone’s coming.”
We all scramble. I shove the box back onto the shelf, my hands shaking as I try to make it look like we were never here. Julian’s already grabbing the papers, stuffing them into the box as quickly as he can. We have to get everything back where it was before whoever comes.
I glance toward the doorway, my mind racing. We were supposed to be home alone today.
Maxwell glances nervously at the entrance, then back at the shelves. “ Hurry . We need to get out of here before?—”
The sound grows louder—footsteps and then a voice. I can’t make out the words, but it’s close.
“ Shit ,” I mutter under my breath. “ We can’t get caught.”
Julian slams the last of the papers into the box and quickly closes the lid, his fingers flying as he pushes the box back into its hiding place.
Maxwell’s already moving toward the door, ready to bolt if we need to. “ We slip out, act normal.”
I nod.
Without saying a word, we all move as one, darting back toward the secret passageway. The door slides shut behind us.
Maxwell and Julian move quickly, each finding a corner of the library. Julian settles on one of the couches by the fireplace, grabbing a random book off the coffee table and flipping it open like he has been reading it all along. Maxwell follows suit, taking a seat on the other chair, pretending to read as well.
I take a seat at the desk, pulling a book from the shelf nearby and setting it in front of me. I can’t focus on the words, but I don’t dare let my eyes wander. We have to look normal—like we’ve been here the whole time.
The door creaks open, and Lionel steps into the room, his looming presence immediately filling the space. His eyes scan the library, settling on us with a knowing gaze. I force myself to keep my posture relaxed, like I’m just another kid lost in a book. But inside, my heart is racing.
“ Well , it’s good to see you boys making use of the library. I trust you’re keeping busy?” Lionel remarks.
He stands there for a moment, waiting for a response. His eyes linger a little too long on me, and I feel a chill run down my spine.
Maxwell clears his throat and looks up from his book. “ Yeah , just looking for something interesting.”
Julian nods, playing along. “ Trying to catch up on some studying.”
Lionel hums, still watching us with that unsettling look. “ I trust you’re avoiding trouble.”
I can’t shake the feeling he’s onto us.
“ We’re good,” I say casually.
Lionel watches for a beat longer before he nods, as if satisfied with our answers. “ Very well. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in my office.”
He turns and walks out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
The tension in the air finally breaks, but we all stay still. We wait until we’re sure he’s gone, and then we let out a collective breath.
I stand up, pacing as I speak in a low voice. “ This is bigger than I thought. The Addingtons , the crash. It all ties together. There has to be more to it.”
Maxwell sets the book down, finally giving me his full attention. “ Yeah , but there’s something about all this that doesn’t sit right with me. They buried the truth for a reason, Theo . We need to be careful.”
Julian glances at him, then back to me. “ Right , but what do we do next? We can’t just keep digging without a plan.”
“ You’re right. We need to approach this smartly, but we can’t just walk away from what we found, not after seeing all those articles. I don’t care how deep I have to dig. I need to find the truth, and I’m not going to stop until I do.”