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“Theodore!”
“I don’t own you,” he repeats, shifting on the bed to face me. “You own me.”
I have no way of responding to that, so I simply sit there, staring at him.
“Your dad was convinced I offered my life in exchange for yours, but I didn’t. The deal I made with the Father was only for my life. I wanted you completely free of this, and bargaining your life wouldn’t have accomplished that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Art school.”
I don’t think I would have been more surprised by his answer if he had started speaking in tongues. “I don’t understand.”
“You got into art school in Paris. It was your dream. Do you remember when you told me about it?”
A vague memory of a much younger blond-haired, blue-eyed giant flashes through my mind. He’d been the first person I told when I read the acceptance letter. He had given me a hug, and I remember thinking how much I would miss the feeling of his arms around me when I was halfway around the world. It was the first time I’d ever had a thought like that about Theo, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Well, so do I. I’d never seen you so happy, so content, as you were when you spoke of life outside of Forest Falls. You weren’t just dreaming about paint and charcoal; you were dreaming of the Seine, the Eiffel Tower, and the Louvre. All the places you never thought you could go were now within your grasp. Except, they weren’t.”
“They weren’t,” I agree, another memory clawing to the front of my mind. My father said no. He told me I was a Legacy and would never be allowed outside Forest Falls. I would live here, marry a MAC, have his babies, raise them to serve the MacAlisters, and then I would die. Peacefully, if I was lucky. Painfully, if I stepped out of line. He put my life back into the suffocating little box I thought I had a chance to escape. “My dad said I couldn’t go.”
“You were crushed,” Theo frowns, lost in his own memories from all those years ago. “I had never seen anyone look so...shattered.”
“What did you do, Theo?”
The bite in my voice brings him back to the present, a guilty look crossing his face. “I knew the Father well enough to guess where he would be that night. I went there and pled your case directly to him. I showed him your art and told him about your dreams. You were bigger than this town, and he needed to know it. I might have also, uh, suggested that keeping you here would end up causing him more trouble in the long run.”
Theo rubs a massive hand along the back of his neck, causing the muscles in his chest and arms to bunch and stretch. I really should have made him get dressed.
“The Father never overlooks an opportunity. He knew my being there meant I was willing to do anything for you, and he found a way to turn it to his advantage.”
“How?”
“Did you know my father worked for the MacAlister’s?”
“No, I didn’t.”
Theo nods, but he isn’t looking at me anymore. “Franklin wasn’t just a shit dad, he was a bad lackey. The asshole walked out one night when I was twelve. Dumbass didn’t even make it to the Balkirk border before the MacAlister’s tracked him down.”
He makes a dismissive sound in the back of his throat, rolling his eyes before continuing. “The Father was still trying to seal his succession back then, and he decided teaching Franklin a lesson for trying to escape wasn’t enough. This was a lesson for his generation and all the generations after him.
The Father sent his henchmen to our home. They pulled me and Matthew out of the shitty twin bed we shared and threw us into an SUV. I remember covering my brother’s ears to block out the sound of our mom’s screams.” He stops, taking a deep breath.
“You don’t have to?—”
“Yes, I do,” his eyes meet mine across the bed, and I’m shocked by the intensity of his gaze. “I’m done keeping secrets from you, Charity.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he agrees, taking another deep breath. “I had no idea what would happen when the car eventually stopped, but I knew it was our dad’s fault. Every bad thing that happened to us was Franklin’s fault. The man couldn’t help himself. He was a screw up, through and through, and we always paid the price for him.
We eventually ended up on the outskirts of Forest Falls, and I could see men standing in a barren field. The moonlight was just strong enough for me to make out their faces: The Father, Holden Bishop, Joseph Hobbs, Harrison Danner, and Edmund Lawson.” His eyes meet mine for a moment, and it feels like he’s trying to say something he doesn’t have the words for.
“The question of what the fuck my seven-year-old brother and I were doing in a field at two in the morning became obvious when I finally saw him. Kneeling in a pool of what I can only imagine to be his own piss and blood was none other than dear old Pop. All the pieces snapped into place at once, and I did my best to shield Matthew from what I knew was about to happen.
The Father made a speech about family, loyalty, and regret. Then he shot him. Ten times. The only thing I could do was step between my brother and the sight of our dad’s brains spraying across the loose dirt at our feet. Thankfully, we were too young for the Father to want anything to do with us, but he made sure we knew he would come calling someday. Unfortunately for him, by the time that day came, I no longer cared if I lived or died. There was nothing he could use against me to force me into the Mafia. He threatened Matthew, but the kid had already gotten himself in good with Callum. I knew the Doc wouldn’t let anything happen to my brother, so I didn’t care what the Father tried to hold over my head. I told him point blank I would rather die than join the MacAlister’s.”
