Page 21 of Deceived Wrath

Brennan lets out a breath and leans back in his chair.

For a moment, I think I may have actually made my brother speechless, which I'm pretty sure hasn't happened since he found out Santa Claus wasn't real.

"Jeez, this is...weird. I mean, I didn't realize my brothers were on such a mission to procreate. Is this why you've been disappearing for weeks on end?"

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

Brennan shrugs. "It's no big deal. At least you had a good reason for acting like a fuckwit all these years."

I let the insult slide because I can admit I've been a pretty shit brother, not just to Brennan but to Kieran and Ronan too. Maybe letting them know about Scout will help bridge the distance that's grown between us over the last few years.

"Is there anything I can do? Because I've got the cool uncle thing down. Kids just seem to love me."

"Everyone seems to love you. You got that from Mom."

"Well, I definitely didn't get it from Dad."

I huff a laugh. "No, you didn't. He could be a miserable bastard sometimes."

"Just like Ronan."

"True."

"Well, like I said, I'm here if you need anything."

The fact that I know he's being sincere means a lot.

"I appreciate that."

"So, want to bet on if I can get that waitress to go out with me tonight?"

And just like that, the conversation moves on, and I sit, listening to Brennan drone on about God knows what because I'm only half-listening as my thoughts drift from Scout to Lorcan and back again.

At some point, Lorcan is going to run out of places to hide. And when he does, I have to make sure I'm there, ready and waiting to take him down.

Chapter Five

FIONA

My sister is dead.Has been for a year. A whole year that has passed in the blink of an eye.

I’ve lived three hundred and sixty-five days and nights since she left us.

Days my sister has not enjoyed, and never will again. She exists only in pictures and old voice notes that I still find myself playing on repeat whenever I miss her.

There hasn’t been a single day over the past year where I haven’t wished she was still alive, not just so I can talk to her in person, but because I wish we could have the chance to make up.

Maybe that’s selfish of me, but I’m tired of carrying around the guilt over what happened all by myself.

We were both to blame, and yet for some reason, Carly couldn’t see that. And now she never will.

I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling when my alarm goes off. I let it ring for a few beats before reaching over and switching it off.

“Three hundred and sixty-six,” I whisper before throwing back the covers and padding barefoot into the bathroom.

I barely slept last night, and it shows. I look like crap.

My hair is a tangled mess, and it looks like I’ve smeared purple eyeshadow beneath my eyes from how dark the circles are.