Page 39 of Bound

I can’t lose Erin. Not now. Not ever.

Erin decrees a house reset when we return upstairs. “We’re all going to lose it if we don’t have normalcy.”

“Luckily, we have a little kid here and they demand structure,” Cass says. “Pizza game night?”

Isobel slips up to her room, as discreetly as one can, followed by armed guards. I hear Erin whispering to the staff who cook tonight to send up a Margarita for Isobel.

Funny how well she guessed. That’s Isobel’s order.

I’m tired of hating myself for knowing stuff like that.

My men put down over a dozen meat pizzas. I struggle to eat. I distract myself by playing board games with Ryan. He cheats sliding his purple plastic man up the slide instead of down, and I let him when I wouldn’t.

Cass sees and lets it go, too. We all need a win in this house.

Erin brings dessert out of who-knows-where, a Skyr Cake, a delicate cheesecake like dish with a buttery crust and fresh berries that must have been flown in from far away from this iceberg we call a home.

Again, I keep telling my freezing counterparts. I built it as a summer home.

I take her to bed and bury myself inside her until I’m anywhere but here.

And there’s still time to tell Erin the secret that’s welded me to Isobel.

By morning, the house I built to brood away the summers, isolated and alone, is a bustling den of controlled chaos, and too soon we’re back in the war room.

A room I’m starting to loathe.

A room I’m turning into an arcade for Ryan when this is all over.

Rafe has owned the long table since we arrived. With Erin here, I’m no brain and all brawn, ready to strike without even a moment’s notice. Rafe runs the show this time.

Three laptops. Two encrypted tablets. Maps layered over maps. Tech I’d be lost in, but that intrigues my baby brother.

Gregory sits beside Rafe in a wrinkled sweater, sandy hair destroyed by wind and sleep, glasses sliding down his nose as he studies the screen like Carlos might tell us where he is if Gregory stares hard enough.

My heart fills with pride while my stomach sinks.

This is everything I wanted to keep him away from, yet he’s the man I hoped he would be.

I have to let him make his own choices. He chooses to have a seat at the table.

As does she.

My beating heart sits across from me wrapped in my coat.

Across from me, watching every piece move.

I hate it. I need her. Like I’ve come to need my brother in this room. Hell, one day I’ll want Ryan here too.

Family. We’re family.

Isobel sits near the far end of the table with guards behind her. Pale. Silent. Broken.

I think of the baby that never was.

I look at Erin. She smiles at me and the gesture is a knife stabbed into my gut.

Twisted.