54. Caspian
Caspian
I wanted to talk to my brother, but it had been days since he’d answered my calls.
I was truly on my own. At least as much as a person could be while surrounded by three other men who didn’t know if they wanted to fuck or kill me.
That wasn’t entirely fair either. Orion knew he wanted to kill me, Vince knew he wanted to fuck me, and Jacob… he probably wanted to do both.
I didn’t blame any of them.
“I don’t even know what time it is,” I said to Vince. “I don’t know which way is up.”
“That’s the point,” he answered, stretching out with his back flat against the headboard. “That means you’re well-fucked.”
“It means I’m distracted.”
He patted the bed and I stretched out alongside him, propping my face up on my pillowed hands. “All I wanted was… ”
No.
The confession was too much.
“What you wanted was what?” he asked.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” I whispered. “I thought if it was me…”
He stared down at me, rubbing the scar on his chest from where I shot him the first time.
“You thought it would be a mercy,” he suggested.
I groaned. “That’s so wrong. I know. I know.”
Vince exhaled slowly, his cheeks puffing as he released the breath. “I don’t think it’s wrong. If there ever comes a time when…when something happens to Orion…or even you or Jake…I would want it to be me.”
He swallowed hard and went still, attention flickering toward the door where Jacob stood, mostly dry from his shower and naked save for a pair of tight boxer briefs.
“Where’s Orion?” Vince asked.
“Taking longer,” he said, climbing into the bed and sandwiching me between his body and Vince’s.
I curled further into myself and closed my eyes.
“I’d want it to be you too,” Jacob said, folding his arms together behind his head and settling against the pillows.
There was room on his other side for Orion, once he finally made the decision to join us.
The exchange of water between us in the bathroom had felt like as much of a truce as the two of us would ever have, and I needed to be okay with that as much as I needed to be okay with the idea of shooting Vince again…
but this time in public…in broad daylight .
“I would too, but I want there to be another way,” I whispered.
After that, the silence between us wasn’t comfortable, the air growing thicker once Orion appeared in the doorway.
He was drier than Jacob, except for the hair on his head, and wore a pair of plaid pajama pants that hung low enough on his hips for me to see a patch of coarse curls peeking up above the drawstring.
I would have let him fuck me if he wanted to, I thought, trying not to stare too long and ruin the peace between us.
He studied the three of us tucked together in the bed before walking around to the side where Vince sat and sinking down to his knees.
Vince made a pleased sound and turned to face him fully, carding his fingers through Orion’s damp hair and whispering things that neither Jacob nor I would ever be meant to hear.
Whatever he said, Orion made no argument or protest until the end when he muttered up a quiet, “Yes, Sir.”
Then he was on his feet and around the other side of the bed, sliding on top of the covers to Jacob’s right and the silence was back again.
At some point in the night, the four of us fell asleep.
I woke up cold, with Jacob wrapped around Orion like an octopus and Vince’s pillow to my left, untouched.
I murmured his name, reaching out and patting my hand along the sheets to search out his body, only to be met with more absence.
Behind me, Jacob let out a low snore and tucked himself closer to Orion, so I carefully climbed out of bed and went in search of Vince .
I checked his office first, finding it empty.
The fireplace was dark, the lights off, the mess of papers and ledgers on his desk still there.
The silence of the townhouse was stifling, and I wished I was more prepared like Vince would have been, or Orion, with a gun or something to protect myself.
The one I had was in a drawer in the guest room, completely incapable of serving a purpose with me on my way to the main floor without it.
To be safe, I checked the bathrooms, even though all the lights were off and there was no reason Vince would be hiding in a bathroom in the dark while the three of us were asleep in his bed upstairs.
I finally made it to the kitchen, where I found a half-drank cup of coffee on the counter, the white porcelain closer to room temperature than piping hot.
Wherever Vince was, he’d abandoned his coffee well over an hour ago.
I glanced next at the windows, the ones that had been so recently replaced after the attack that had left Orion’s hand injured and my leg grazed, finding them whole and intact, the lights of the street reflecting up off the dark glass panes.
Vince wasn’t in the kitchen, he wasn’t in the living room, he wasn’t anywhere.
The front door hung open, not damaged like it had been kicked in, but fully on the hinges like the lock had been picked or Vince had opened it on his own.
There was a white rag on the floor, and beside it a small pool of blood, big enough for me to see my face in when I looked down.
A bloody handprint painted the doorframe…
like someone had grabbed it to stop from being pulled down th e steps.
My hands shook violently as I forced myself to look further down the street.
A trail of blood to the sidewalk, and I was scared to follow it for fear I’d be the one to find Vince’s body lifeless on the curb.
What I found, though, was much worse.
Vince wasn’t there.