22. Isaac #2
“Thank you for keeping an eye on her. She can be stubborn, but I’m all she’s had for so long. She’s not used to having someone look out for her. When she was little, I was gone a lot, but I appreciate what you're doing and would be beyond grateful if you would continue to keep her out of trouble.”
“Dad!” Zela exclaims, reaching for him, but Jace is there. It only takes him a second to undo the wrap, leaving the angry, red cut on display.
I see the emotions flash through her father's eyes: anger morphs into worry before he shakes his head, and his resolve hardens.
“I won’t lose you, Munchkin. Cut your old man some slack. We just want you safe,” he says, almost pleading with her to understand.
But it’s actually him who doesn’t understand.
How could he? The only version of us he knows is the one we let him see. To him, we’re just worried brothers looking out for our new little sister, trying to keep her safe from guys who would use her.
Us.
We’re the ones she needs saving from, but I’m not sure there’s anyone alive we wouldn’t go through to keep her at this point.
That ship has sailed, and now, DuPont or not, Zela belongs to us.
Her teeth dig into her bottom lip hard enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if she tastes the metallic tinge of blood as her eyes well with tears that she manages to keep from falling.
She could spill it all, and there isn’t much we could do to stop her.
Mother has no idea what we do, or anything about The Pit; she knew better than to ask. Father made sure of it.
I know she won’t, though; in fact, I don’t even feel the least bit worried that she might, not knowing what I do about her.
I watch as her eyes harden toward him, and I know she hates us.
She should.
“I’m an adult. I don’t need a babysitter,” she hisses, looking from Jace to Kolson and finally to me. The message in her eyes is clear, but none of us will be paying her any mind, not when we just got the okay from her father.
“For as long as you live in this house, you will follow my rules,” Patrick tells her, and while he’s not yelling, his tone speaks of no nonsense.
Zela gives a loud groan of annoyance, running her injured hand through her hair before she winces and pulls it away.
She stands in the living room surrounded by us but alone, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me hard to see her steel herself and glare back at Kolson as she leaves.
“Fuck you,” she hisses in what I assume is a poor attempt at a whisper, though with her, I’m sure that was done on purpose.
Kolson doesn’t react, unwilling to lose his perfect charade he has in place.
“Zela!” her father calls after her as she jogs up the stairs and out of sight before he turns to Kolson.
“I’m sorry, she’s not usually like this.” He shakes his head before rubbing a hand down his face, looking tired in a way he wasn’t just moments earlier, older even.
“Honey,” Mother coos, walking up to rest her head on his shoulder and tucking her hand in the crook of his arm in an attempt to comfort him.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kolson says, waving him off with a smile parents always fall for. “It’s been a lot of change for her pretty quickly, and I’m sure it didn’t help that she didn’t know about us before the move-in.”
Patrick wraps one arm around Mother and rubs his neck with the other, looking a bit uncomfortable with being called out.
It wasn’t actually his idea; it had been us trying to avoid her. Unwilling to deal with a sister because we didn’t want her.
I’m not sure whether it’s comical, thinking back on it now, or demented.
“We’ll keep an eye on her. That’s what brothers are for, right?” Kolson doesn’t give him a chance to answer before he turns away and heads up the stairs, and I follow, knowing we have more to talk about, just without them.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take real good care of her, old man.
” I hear Jace say as he jogs up the stairs a minute later.
When I look back over the banister, I see Mother and Patrick headed back down the hall toward the master bedroom, and I have to look away before my mind can have any more chance to run wild.
Kol stands outside Zela’s door, and I’m both shocked and confused about how he managed to get her to open it, but I keep my questions to myself as they hiss under their breath at each other. Standing toe-to-toe, Kolson leans down so they're eye-to-eye.
“You don’t fucking own me!”
“Wrong, you're a DuPont. Get it through your head, sister. This is your life now.”
“I’m not a DuPont! I’m a Davis, and I’ll always be a Davis!” She stomps her foot, leaning ever closer, and honestly, it borders on intimate.
“Fuck, I know it probably shouldn’t, but all this arguing makes me hard,” Jace says, coming up beside me, shamelessly palming his cock through his jeans as he watches them.
I roll my eyes but keep my mouth shut. I might not go around announcing it, but I’m also hard as a rock, have been for a while now. It’s a newer occurrence that seems to happen when she's in the vicinity, something I’m not happy about or proud of, unlike my brother.
“The next time you seek comfort from a man who isn’t us, know I’ll kill them.”
That seems to shock her, though it shouldn’t; nothing should when it comes to us.
Kolson moves away with a smug smirk on his face as he heads toward the den, leaving Zela in the doorway. She remains frozen for a moment before her jaw clenches, and I half expect her to go after him, but she doesn’t get the chance.
Jace swoops in, pressing a kiss to her lips before he pulls back, and I see the shock and confusion on her face as he all but skips after Kolson.
“Sweet dreams, lil sis. If you get scared, you're always welcome in my bed!” he calls back, waving with a smile and a little wave, to which she flips him the bird, making him smile wider.
“Fuck you,” she hisses, wiping her arm across her lips.
“That’s the idea,” he says, waggling his brows at her and making her pull a face.
She moves back into her room, her fingers curling around the door, ready to slam it closed, when she pauses, and her eyes find mine as if she felt my gaze.
Her lips purse in disgust or annoyance, but it doesn’t make much difference before she shakes her head and closes the door, leaving me standing in the hall alone and annoyed with myself.
I shouldn’t care; if anything, I should be happy to have caused her problems. My brothers clearly are.
So why do I feel almost guilty?