Chapter Thirty
Kytten
We left the bathroom to the sound of thunderous clapping and catcalls. I rolled my eyes, refusing to let the antics of immature men shame what Cash and I had.
“Fuck off, all of you,” I yelled. Laughter called back, and the sound was music to my ears. All the worry I had about his brothers not accepting me had vanished in that one joyful moment.
Despite knowing my faults, my weaknesses, they took me in. They recognized me as Cash’s old lady. Yes, they all voted, but that was a formality. No one voted against the VP.
But this today was the real test. And I had passed with flying colors.
“Go talk to your brother, Rose.” He slapped my ass, and he walked into the main room. No, walked wasn’t the right word. The man fucking strutted like a rooster.
He’d told me he would never let anyone see me naked. No having sex in the main room at a midnight party, and I was fine with that. But hearing me? That, apparently, was fair game. And judging by the way he was peacocking around, it would happen often.
I shook my head and laughed as I turned toward the stairs. Time to talk to Thorne.
About everything.
I found him in his room as Sam said he was. A light knock on the door and he answered, “Come in.” I walked in hesitantly, closing the door behind me. He lay on his bed, his hands clasped together behind his back as he stared at the ceiling.
He had taken his cut off, and it hung on the back of the chair pushed up against his desk. My fingertips brushed over the leather. It was amazing to me that years apart, and we had both joined a club. There really was something to that twin thing.
I didn’t speak until I climbed onto his bed and curled up at his side, resting my head on his chest. We used to lie like this at night sometimes when I was scared. Usually after the man had been there.
He didn’t move at first, but then he sighed and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. He rubbed my back, like he did when we were kids.
We lay there silently for minutes before either of us spoke. I had expected to be the one to break the silence.
“I’m sorry you went through all that. You’ll never know how much I hated myself that he found me. That I couldn’t get back to you.”
“None of this was your fault,” I knew he would blame himself. It was how he was. Even the time I broke his game when I threw it out the window. Once he calmed down, he apologized for ignoring me.
I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone here knew the real Thorne. The sensitive one. I knew he was quiet. He always had been. But had they been able to breach his walls? Maybe Sam had. He told me that he’d told her everything.
“Thank you for what you did today.”
I didn’t want Syrena’s death on his conscience, but it meant the world that even after all these years, we still had the bond that held us together. The one that said we would scour Hell to protect each other.
We’d learned that on the street. All those months fighting off predators, as well as do-gooders who tried to turn us in. Wanting to put us into the system so we had a home. A family. We had each other.
It was all we’d needed.
“I wanted her to suffer.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t think she would have. Her body was suffering. I could see the effect—her shortness of breath, the blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. But there was something in her eyes. Something sinister. They were like his.”
I knew who he was talking about. The man who took our mother. The man who likely killed her. The man we would kill. Together.
“We’ll find him,” I said, determination lacing my words. “Even if we have to ask for help.”
“No. We can’t tell them. Not until after.”
Thorne was stubborn. Moreso than me. Mom knew what she was doing when she named him. Thorns were ruthless and stubborn. They didn’t care who they pricked. Their only job was to protect the roses.
“We aren’t kids anymore,” I said softly. “We can both take care of ourselves. We can have each other’s backs. But there is a whole club full of people downstairs who will protect us too. They’ll stand behind us and help us get justice.”
“We don’t need their help.”
“Then why are you here? Why did you join the club if you didn’t want their help?”
“I was looking for you.”
I sat up and looked at my brother. “What? Why would you look for me here?”
Thorne looked at me, guilt and shame swirling in his eyes, and I knew there was something he hadn’t told me.
“His father told me someone here would lead me to you.”
Turning my back, I whispered, “He knew about me?”
“Yeah, he knew where you were but wouldn’t tell me. He wanted me to do something for him and said if I did, I would get the answers.”
“Does he know about me?” Has he been looking for me? What would he do when he found me? What did he do when he took my mother?
“No. His father didn’t tell him. I think even he knew how unhinged his son was.”
Over my shoulder, I stared at my brother. “What did he want you to do?”
“He knew about Amber. He knew she was here and who she was.” His eyes never strayed from mine as he told me what he was asked to do.
He told me all the things he didn’t say in front of Dr. Dunaway.
When he was finished, he confessed, “I never planned on telling you any of that. Because I know you, and I know how you think. You would blame yourself somehow.”
I scoffed a laugh at this theory. Because I knew the same about him. That was why I never wanted him to know about Syrena.
“Once I heard everything today, I knew it was only fair for you to know everything. We don’t need their help. If they get involved, it puts them at risk.”
I hesitated before I said the next words, knowing what his reaction would be. “There are other clubs that would help, too.”
“They’ll protect him. He’s one of them,” he argued.
“Maybe if they knew what he did.”
He sat up on the bed. “They won’t care. You don’t know what I know.”
“Then tell me,” I pleaded.
“They know what he is. They’ve done nothing so far.”
“Maybe they don’t know everything.” I was grasping at straws. There had to be someone that would help us. We weren’t kids anymore, but after what Thorne told me, I knew we couldn’t do this alone.
“If you’re scared—”
I jumped off the bed and spun on my brother. “I’m not afraid of him. I’m scared of losing you now that I finally found you. I’m sure you getting away pissed him off. When he finds you who knows what he’ll do.”
“I can handle him.”
“How?” I asked, throwing my hands in the air. “How can you go up against him? He taught you everything. He’ll know every move you make before you make it.”
“Not everything. I’ve been here five years.
I’ve learned a lot more from these men. Ghost taught me how to fight dirty.
How to take down a man three times my size.
Jingles taught me how to be invisible. Blade taught me how to use a fucking knife like nothing I have ever seen before.
Zero taught me how to clean up my mess. Stocks, he’s a scary motherfucker.
It’s like he’s too different people sometimes.
And King, he taught me how to be patient.
How to wait out my opponent until he makes a mistake.
I have learned things from every man in this club. ”
The mention of Blade had me thinking about the knife Melissa still had. Thorne’s knife. The one Val bought for him. The one I used to hurt myself. Would he still want it? How would he feel knowing the one thing I kept safe for him, kept me safe? At least that was how it had felt all these years.
He was so animated. So sure that he could best the man who hunted us our whole lives. “But you’re still only one person. You can’t use all those skills at once.”
“Which is why I will teach them to you. Like I said, King taught me to be patient. When the time is right, we’ll take that bastard down. Together.”
“I have something for you.” Switching gears, I paced his bedroom. I couldn’t listen to his plan anymore. I didn’t want to lose my brother. “Well, I don’t currently have it. Melissa has it.”
“What is it?” he asked, ignoring my sudden change.
“A knife,” I said, watching for his reaction. His face was blank, but his eyes gave him away. “Val bought it for you. The first birthday I was with the Nyght Nymphs. She bought something for you too. She wanted you to know that you were welcome when we found you.”
Something crossed over his face, something dark, something jaded. I didn’t give him a chance to respond.
“I’ve carried it with me. All these years. I...” I bit my lip, unsure of how he would react. “It was what I used.”
“Used how?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
He wanted me to say it. I wondered if he knew how similar he was to Cash. Cash never let me off easy. He pushed me to be more. To stand up for myself. He encouraged me to live and feel and grow.
“Used for what, Rose?”
My brother stood on the other side of the room, separated only by the bed we each stood beside. His eyes were sharp as steel. The rich brown we shared with our mother, now dark and angry. He knew what I used it for, but he wanted me to admit it.
He wanted me to confess.
I knew he wasn’t angry with me. Not really. Thorne was angry with himself. He was still blaming himself for being taken and for leaving me alone on the streets.
“It’s not your fault,” I said. I had gotten good at avoidance. Hell, I’d been doing it for more than half a decade.
“Used it for what, Rosebud?”
He wouldn’t let it go. I knew that. Like I said, Thorne was stubborn. He let me change the subject earlier. But he wouldn’t now. He would push until I gave him what he wanted.
He wasn’t trying to hurt me. I knew that. Dr. Dunaway had stressed the importance of taking accountability for our actions. I made the decision to hurt myself. I made the decision to use the knife Val bought for my brother.
Taking a deep breath, I looked my brother in the eye and told him what he already knew. “It was the knife I used to cut myself.”
Thorne closed his eyes. His breathing picked up as he tried to settle whatever he was feeling. I knew he wanted to yell at me. He did that a lot when we were kids. Any time I did something he didn’t like, he would lose his temper and scream at me.
I could see a battle being waged inside him. The tension in his shoulders. The deep breaths as he tried to control his anger. When he opened his eyes, what I saw broke me.
He moved fast. He didn’t go around the bed, he climbed over it until he was standing in front of me. He gathered me in his arms, and we held onto each other as we both cried for everything we had lost.
Every moment away from each other. Every bad thing that happened in our lives. My brother held me and cried with me, and it was the one thing I hadn’t realized I needed.
He wasn’t ashamed of me. He didn’t feel guilty. He understood me. Because he’d had his own choices to accept. Together we would battle. Holding each other up, protecting each other’s backs.
Slaying our monsters.