3. Chapter 2
His head fell back against the plush booth, a groan slipping through his lips as a woman pressed wet kisses along his neck.
The brunette’s perfume was overly floral and would overwhelm his senses if it weren’t for the weed and booze permeating the air in the seedy nightclub.
The man next to him ran a firm hand up his leg as he downed the rest of the old-fashioned before pulling Ezra in for a kiss.
Whiskey coated the man’s tongue as it slipped into his mouth, and he squeezed the woman attached to his neck gently, pressing her closer to his body.
They told him their names an hour ago, but he promptly forgot them thanks to two joints and some drinks they shared.
He never used to partake in one-night stands.
After being punished for fucking up his last job for his father last year, he needed to lose himself in someone.
Or multiple someones. Even if it were for a night.
Not that it stopped him. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, he couldn’t help but to have feelings for Silas by the end.
The warning turned out to be true because the morning after their last night, he was ordered to do something he still couldn’t forgive himself for.
And given he hadn’t heard from Silas in over two years, despite the numerous tries Ezra had made to contact him, he hadn’t forgiven Ezra either.
Silas probably didn’t want to hear from him after how they left things.
But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t wish for the man he was kissing right now to be Silas.
Regardless, his reprieve wouldn’t last long.
He’d be called back for whatever his next mission would be.
Beckoned like a dog to a whistle. Despite the last one going awry, his father needed his skills—his power to manipulate and hide the truth.
As his thoughts remained there, the liquor soured on his tongue and the pain of the past six months threatened to come forward.
Instead, he plunged deeper into his partner’s kiss, drowning in the smooth liquor in hopes it would dull the pain. Ezra moaned as one of his partner’s hands palmed his cock through his slacks. “Why don’t we take this somewhere more private?” the woman whispered in his ear.
“My place is right around the corner,” the man said as he broke the kiss, his voice low and heady.
Before Ezra could respond, someone cleared their throat over the thumping music in front of their table. He turned his attention to the sound and smirked at the familiar face. It was like staring into a mirror, except Ezra’s curls weren’t slicked back like some tool of a business exec.
“Declan!” he shouted, greeting his brother. “Surprised to see you in here. Aren’t you afraid you’ll tarnish your luxurious suit?”
Declan rolled his eyes, his thin lips taut as his hand pulled at the sleeve of said ridiculously expensive gray suit. “Father wants to meet.”
“Oh.” His stomach lurched, and he shifted to sit straighter in his seat as his companions slipped away with disappointment. “Why?”
“Why does he do anything?” Declan asked with a twitch of his brow. “Come on. I have the car waiting in the back.”
“Afraid of walking through the front?” Ezra slid out of the booth, throwing enough cash on the table to cover the tab before following his brother through the back of the club.
“Unlike you, I have a pristine reputation to maintain.”
Ezra snorted, which earned him a cold, hard look from Declan.
A bodyguard opened the door to the alleyway, where an inscrutable black sedan with tinted windows waited.
The driver has been his brother’s for years.
Mr. Fairfield—an old, pale, freckled man with finely coiffed gray hair—stood next to the rear passenger door.
Fairfield opened the door, allowing Ezra and Declan to get in before closing it and returning to the driver’s seat.
He buckled his seat belt and glanced over at his brother, whose nose crinkled and mouth twisted into a grimace. “What?”
“You smell disgusting,” Declan said, reaching into the door compartment and tossing him a small bottle of cologne. “At least make yourself presentable.”
The car lurched forward as they pulled out of the alley. “Why should I do that?”
Now it was Declan’s turn to scoff. “I know considering anyone other than yourself is a seemingly impossible task, but for once, will you please expand your mind? You may think you have Father fooled. He knows, as well as I, that you sabotaged the girl’s disappearance.
If it hadn’t been for my convincing that you would still be useful—still be loyal—you would still be locked away. ”
A cold bead of sweat rolled down his neck as his trembling hands clutched the cologne.
He focused on the blurred streets as they drove, avoiding going into the recesses of his mind, and instead cleared his throat.
“If you’re expecting me to say thank you, you’ll be waiting for a while.
” Ezra spritzed the cologne once before tossing it back.
“And it wasn’t intentional. It’s not like I’m unfamiliar with what happens when I disappoint him. ”
His brother sighed loudly before setting the glass bottle back in its place and running a hand over his perfectly coiffed dark hair. “You were delaying what needed to be done. What did you expect him to do?”
Ezra’s jaw clenched. He wanted to scream, to yell, to let everything out. But it was as if he were trapped in a cage in the dark. Nobody would hear him scream. And if they did, they wouldn’t care. Instead, he turned away, leaning his forehead against the glass.
A part of him wanted to ask how they’d gotten to the point of barely speaking.
He knew the answer, though, and it made his stomach twist with dread.
Father. And how he pitted his sons against one another to maintain an iron grip over them.
Ezra peered out of his side and noticed the car turn left onto State Street, heading toward the tunnel.
His stomach roiled and his body went rigid.
Nausea rose to the surface, stinging at the back of his throat, and he wiped his sweating palms on his legs.
“He’s not at the penthouse in the city?”
“No,” Declan said bluntly. “He’s at the house.”
Nearly two hours later, they drove down a long, winding road where the only light was from the car’s headlights and the moon cresting over the tops of the pines.
He’d know this stretch with his eyes closed.
He had the sway of the car’s movement memorized after counting the bends and turns when he was younger.
Five more and the iron-and-brick gate would come into view.
He counted silently in his head, his stomach clenching tighter the closer he got to five.
The yellow headlights shone on the black iron bars ahead.
The car slowed at the small scanner before the gate, where Mr. Fairfield scanned his ID and the doors swung open.
Ezra stared at his hands in his lap, his fingers picking at the small bits of skin around his cuticles.
“Stop it,” Declan muttered. “Father won’t hurt you.”
Ezra scoffed, tilting his gaze to his brother. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
“He understands you have some use to the family. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have sent me.”
He shook his head, watching the large cliffside mansion through the windshield get closer with every passing second.
“You act as if he didn’t lock me in that basement for three months.
As if he didn’t climb into my mind an—” His voice was thicker than he expected, and soon enough the view ahead blurred.
He should be numb to his father’s tactics.
After all, he endured the lies, manipulation, and abuse for most of his life.
Declan grabbed Ezra’s forearm, pulling his attention away from the front of the car. “I put myself out there for you to have a second chance with him.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “Lock the emotions away. Don’t be weak.”
“Fuck off,” Ezra scoffed, pulling his arm back as a tear rolled down his cheek. “Mom never took it as weakn—”
“Well, she isn’t here now, is she?” Declan cocked his head, adjusting his suit and squaring his jaw.
Asshole. But before he could fight back, the car rolled to a stop. Ezra’s breath stilled as the peaks of the mansion shrouded them in its shadow.
“Come on. He’s waiting in his office.” Declan opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him.
He exhaled, willing the last of his tears back and, as his brother suggested, locked his emotions away. Unlike his mother, his father would not tolerate it. His hands balled into fists with one last deep breath before he turned his attention to their driver. “Thanks for the ride, Fairfield.”
“Any time, Ezra,” Fairfield said with a tip of his hat.
Salt air filled his lungs as soon as he opened the door.
The familiar ocean waves crashed against the nearby cliffs, and owl calls echoed in the night.
His feet thumped heavily against the pavement like lead, and he stared at the mansion he used to call home.
Instead of a place of comfort and solace, it was more like a prison. Cold and cruel.
He shut the door softly, walking to stand next to his brother, his gaze never leaving the imposing building as if it would strike if he looked away.
Swaths of ivy covered parts of the tall, dark brick exterior framing the large windows, which let in an abundance of natural sunlight that, as a kid, he was convinced his father would burn to dust like a vampire.
He noticed a cloud of moths dancing around the glowing light next to the grand mahogany door.
Luxury cars sat in the driveway, melting into their dark surroundings.
It all made him sick to his stomach.