Page 68 of Lost & Found

I knew enough to know it was a serious commitment. It was one not to be taken lightly, and with this group, never within the first year of living the lifestyle. They believed if it was right, then it would withstand the time limit.

“So, question for you, I’m aware of the significance of the collaring ceremony, especially. But who actually is going to place it on her neck? And more importantly, does that mean she belongs more to one than the others?”

“Alek, for sure, will secure the collar. You know how much he loves to wrap his hands around her neck. I actually suggested Nik get her a bracelet. Ivan’s contribution will be an ankle bracelet. So to answer your question, they will all own her. Completely, and in every way. I wouldn’t be surprised if the dynamic shifted to a full power exchange.”

“What about you? Think you’ll ever collar a woman?” I asked, curious about the aspect of committing to a permanent relationship in such a manner.

“No. I committed to a girl fully, a long time ago. Never again.” He stared down at the amber in his glass like it might answer back. Bitter notes of regret laced his next words. “You know my life wasn’t always this.”

“What do you mean?”

He waved his hand around the club. “I was going to be a solicitor at one time in my life. Just like my father. A standard nine-to-five family man. Went to school, passed the bar and everything.”

“What changed?”

“I lost all desire to live that life after I realized Vanya wasn’t coming home. I tried to create the opposite of that life for myself. I rebelled internally anyway, somehow found this. It filled the void.”

I nodded, trying to reconcile the man I knew—the control he lived and breathed—with someone rebelling. It was times like these that I felt the age gap between us more deeply. I’d always played by the rules.

Even when I stepped into this world, I knew there was a lot to learn. So that’s what I was doing. Studying. Asking questions. Making sure I understood the lines before I dared approach them.

The idea of burning down a life simply because grief hollowed it out unsettled me more than I cared to admit.

“In retrospect, it was for the best. Who knows where I might have ended up? And by no means do I feel unfulfilled. I like my life. Quite a bit, actually. But do you want to hear something insane?”

“You’ve never struck me as a man who confesses insanity lightly,” I said. “Let’s hear it.”

He wasn’t one to open up about Vanya, especially with me. With me not having ever met her, it made sense. Those conversations he saved for Alek and, occasionally, Marcel. Which always surprised me, with Marcel being the counselor of the group. I chalked it up to their level of closeness and the history they shared as family friends.

He cleared his throat and signaled to the bartender for a refill. “I started dating a girl when I was at Cambridge. We dated off and on for three years. If you’ve ever wondered why no one gives me shit about settling down anymore is because I tried it once. In our final year, I decided to get more serious. Exclusivity.”

This was all new information to me. How the hell did he get from Cambridge to here? I tried fitting the image of him into a nine-to-five gig and came up empty. Not that he wasn’t intelligent enough to be a solicitor. It was more his persona—the Torturer—which was what I knew him as.

Of course, there were layers to him. We all had them. But of all the guys, he was the one more closed off. Why it hadn’t occurred to me before, I don’t know. The love he felt for the Kings’ sister must have been unique in ways I’d never understand.

“Don’t look so shocked. It’s how I know soulmates exist and are a once in a lifetime deal.”

“What happened that changed your plan?” I asked, almost afraid he’d close back up.

“Guilt. Vanya’s remains were returned, along with a family heirloom and a note, and I knew right then and there. It was payback for moving on.”

“What? But how?”

I was genuinely confused about how he was trying to make it make sense. How did finding her remains after she’d been gone for years equate to payback?

“Forget it. I don’t know why I brought it up.”

“Maybe because it still matters,” I said. “Doesn’t make you superstitious or anything. Makes you human.”

“Yeah, well right before they found Vanya, I had this feeling. Like something had already been decided and I just hadn’t been informed yet.” His jaw tightened. “I have it again. Maybe that does make me superstitious.”

I studied him then, really studied him. This wasn’t the Torturer holding court at his club. This wasn’t the man issuing orders or negotiating deals. This was someone who loved deep enough to believe the universe kept score.

I respected that about him. About all of them. They didn’t do things half-assed. They didn’t half-commit. When they loved—when they chose—they did it entirely. And somewhere in the back of my mind, a thought flickered. If I ever stepped wrong with Isabella, I wouldn’t just be losing her. I’d be forfeiting this, too.

The brotherhood.

“I know I can’t stop Isabella from doing this insane list of hers,” he said evenly. “But if she comes back broken in ways she wasn’t when she left…that will sit at your feet, Brother.”