Chapter 3 #2
I nod, not interrupting, even though the memory of finding Henry's body is burned into my brain like a brand. Even though I can still see him lying there in that alley, throat cut, discarded like trash. Even though two years haven't been nearly enough time to process that loss.
"He was good," she continues, voice getting quieter, more fragile. "Better than both of us in every way. Kinder. Gentler. He saw the best in people even when they didn't deserve it. When Mom started working for the Raiders, Henry thought it was cool. Thought we'd be protected. Safe."
"What happened wasn't your fault," I say, because she needs to hear it even if she won't believe it. "Or Mom's. Or anyone's except the people who killed him."
"Marcus happened," she says, his name coming out like poison.
"And the three Vipers who helped him. Henry was fifteen.
Walking home from school, same route he always took.
Wrong place, wrong time. Marcus was doing some kind of deal with them in that alley—drugs, I think.
And Henry saw something he shouldn't have.
Something that would've exposed Marcus, would've gotten him kicked out of the club if Xavier found out. "
My stomach drops even though I know this story, lived through the aftermath of it. But hearing Talia tell it, hearing the pain in her voice, makes it fresh again. Raw.
"Marcus grabbed him," she continues, words coming faster now. "Dragged him into the alley. Beat him. Henry fought back—he was small but he was scrappy, you remember—but Marcus had help. Three Vipers. They held Henry down while Marcus—"
Her voice breaks completely. She stops, swallows hard, visibly forces herself to continue through tears she won't let fall.
"They slit his throat. Left him in a dumpster like he was trash.
Like he was nothing. It took two days for someone to find him.
Two days of Mom and me and you searching everywhere, filing police reports that went nowhere, begging the Raiders to help look for him.
And the whole time, Marcus knew. He knew where Henry was.
He knew what he'd done. And he said nothing. "
"I know," I say quietly, because I was there for all of it. Was the one who found Henry's body, actually. Was the one who had to identify him, had to tell Jackie and Talia that he was gone. "I know, T."
"Xavier found out eventually," she says, and there's bitter acid in her voice now.
"About six months later. Someone talked.
Xavier confronted Marcus. But Marcus was his brother.
Blood. So Xavier gave him a warning. Told him to stay away from us.
Told him there'd be consequences if he stepped out of line again. "
"But there weren't," I finish quietly, understanding now why she's here, why she's doing this.
"No. There weren't. Marcus kept doing whatever he wanted.
Kept hurting people. Kept getting away with it because he was Xavier's brother and that made him untouchable.
" She looks at me directly now, and her eyes are hard, cold, filled with a fury that's been burning for two years.
"But that's not why I'm here. Marcus is dead now.
I don't know how or when or who—just that he's finally gone.
And I'm glad. But the three Vipers who helped him kill Henry?
They're still here. Still walking around like they didn't murder a fifteen-year-old kid. "
I process this carefully. Marcus is dead. That's news. But she doesn't know the details, and I'm not about to fill in those blanks. Not now. Not when she's on this path.
"So this is revenge," I observe, taking another drag of my cigarette.
"This is justice," she corrects firmly.
"There's a difference?"
"Yes," she insists. "Revenge is personal, selfish. Justice is making sure what happened to Henry never happens to anyone else. It's making sure the people who killed him pay for it."
I want to argue. Want to tell her that justice and revenge are just different words for the same thing. That what she's planning is going to get her killed and won't change anything that's already happened.
But I see it in her eyes—that same determination I've felt a thousand times. That same certainty that some things are worth dying for.
"What's the plan?" I ask instead, because if she's going to do this either way, I need to know what I'm dealing with.
She blinks, surprised. "You want to know?"
"If you're going to do this regardless of what I say, I'd rather know what I'm working with."
She studies me for a moment, deciding whether to trust me.
Then: "The three Vipers who helped Marcus kill Henry—Killian's letting me get close to them.
Thinks I'm one of them now, that I want revenge against the Raiders for not protecting Henry, for letting Marcus walk free for so long.
He's been including me in operations, trusting me with information. "
"And you're going to—what?"
"I'm going to kill them," she says simply. "All three of them. Make them pay for what they did to Henry. And if that starts a war between the Raiders and the Vipers, if that burns everything down—good. Maybe something better can grow from the ashes."
"That's ambitious," I say dryly.
"That's necessary," she counters.
"And what about you? You really think you're going to survive killing three Viper lieutenants in their own territory?"
"I don't plan on surviving," she says quietly, and the words land like stones in water.
The statement hits me like a physical blow. "Talia—"
"I'm not suicidal," she interrupts quickly. "I'm realistic. But I'm okay with it. As long as Henry's killers pay, it's worth it."
"No," I state flatly. "It's not."
"You don't get to decide that," she snaps back. "I'm eighteen. An adult. I can make my own choices."
"You're my baby sister," I throw back, and my voice cracks on the words. "You and Henry—you're all I have left of our family. Mom's gone. Henry's gone. I'm not losing you too."
Her expression softens fractionally. "Asher—"
"No," I interrupt. "You want to kill the people who murdered Henry? Fine. I get it. I want them dead too. But you're not doing it on a suicide mission. You're doing it smart. With backup. With a plan that includes you surviving."
"I can't ask you to help me with this—"
"You're not asking. I'm telling you how this is going to work." I step closer, and she doesn't back away. "You keep me updated on everything. Every meeting, every operation, every piece of information. And when you make your move, I'm there to make sure you get out alive."
"Asher—"
"This is non-negotiable," I interrupt. "You're my sister. You and Henry—" I stop, force myself to continue through the emotion clogging my throat. "You two are the only family I have left. I couldn't save Henry. But I'm sure as hell going to save you."
She's quiet for a long moment. Then: "Okay. But if things go wrong—if they figure out what I'm doing—you pull back. You don't try to save me. You protect the club. Deal?"
"No deal," I respond immediately.
"Asher—"
"I'm not agreeing to let you die," I state flatly. "So either accept my help with the understanding that I'm going to do everything in my power to keep you alive, or do this without me."
We stare at each other. A battle of wills.
"Fine," she mutters finally. "You're as stubborn as he was."
"Learned from the best," I say quietly.
A small smile flickers across her face. "He would've hated this. All of it. The violence, the revenge. He always said there had to be a better way."
"Henry was better than both of us," I agree. "Always was."
"Yeah." Her eyes get distant. "He was."
I step forward and pull her into a hug before she can protest. She goes rigid at first, then melts into it, her forehead pressing against my chest, arms gripping my jacket tight.
"You're not just anger and revenge," I murmur into her hair. "Henry's still in there. The good parts of him live in you."
"I don't want the good parts," she mumbles. "The good parts get you killed."
"No. The good parts keep you human. Keep you from becoming what you're trying to destroy."
She doesn't respond, just holds on for another few seconds before pulling back.
I press a kiss to her forehead. "Don't get yourself killed. That's not a request."
"I'll try," she offers. "No promises."
"Talia—"
"I'll try," she repeats firmly. "That's the best I can do."
It's not enough. But it's all I'm going to get.
"Go," I tell her. "Before someone notices you're gone."
She pulls her hood back up, glances at the Viper headquarters. "I'll contact you when I have something. Burner phone."
"Got it."
She starts to walk away, then pauses. "Asher? Thank you. For not trying to drag me home."
"Don't thank me yet," I respond. "If this goes sideways, I'm going to be very smug about being right."
She actually laughs—a real laugh, surprised and genuine. Then she's gone, slipping back across the street and disappearing into the shadows.
I stand there for a long time after she's gone, staring at the building where my baby sister is planning to kill three men and probably die in the process.
Henry would've known what to say. Would've talked her out of this, found some other way.
But Henry's dead.
And I failed him.
I'm not failing Talia too.
I climb back into my truck and light another cigarette, my hands shaking slightly.
Somewhere across town, Xavier is lying in a hospital bed with Valentina, both of them hiding their own secrets.
Zay is probably lying awake, trying to figure out what I'm not telling him.
And I'm here, watching a building full of enemies, wondering how I'm supposed to protect my sister when she's running toward death like it's salvation.
Dawn breaks over the city, painting everything in pink and gold that feels too beautiful for how ugly everything's become.
I failed Henry. Couldn't save him from Marcus and those three Vipers.
But I'm not failing Talia.
Even if it means going to war.
Even if it means burning the Vipers to the ground.
Even if it costs me everything.
She's my sister. And I'm bringing her home alive.
No matter what it takes.