Page 89 of Pucked Around and Found Out

I have burned the world down trying to find it.

“You should have told me,” I say, but the anger has drained from my voice. “The moment she made contact. We could have worked together to get the information.”

“She came to me before I came to Stormsend,” Cas says hoarsely. “She promised to give me the accident report if I could get valuable intel on your family, she strung me along. She never said Toren wasn’t driving but she told me someone else was involved in the crash. She fed me enough intel to keep me coming back until I stopped.”

I look at him—really look at him—and see not just my betrayer, but someone who's been carrying the same grief and guilt I have.

Different victims. Same pain.

“Why’d you stop?” I ask quietly.

“You,” he breathes out. “Nearly a year of feeding her useless information and she never gave me anything. I knew she was full of shit. Kellan kept going back to her, thinking that if he gave her everything she wanted that she would agree to grant Terror immunity as well. I stopped taking her calls and showing up to meets. I learned being loyal to you and having you as a brother meant more than chasing the ghost of my past I needed to let go of.”

“She played you,” I say flatly.

“I know.” Cas closes his eyes. “I fucking know. But by the time I realized it, it was too late. She had proof of everything I'd given her. One word from her and I'd be as good as dead. So I kept feeding her scraps, in the hopes she wouldn’t rat me out.”

He opens his eyes and looks at me.

“I never wanted to betray you, Xaden. You're my brother. My best friend. But I loved KennaDee. And the chance to know what really happened to her—to know if she suffered, if she was scared, if there was something I could have done—I couldn't let that go. I didn’t know the real you at the time I made the deal. If I did, I never would have signed that fucking dotted line and sold my soul to that cunt.”

The silence that follows is heavy with all the things we can't say.

I should kill him. By every rule I live by, every code I follow, he deserves death for his betrayal.

But I can't.

Because looking at him now, I don't see a traitor.

I see a reflection of myself.

Someone who loved and lost.

Someone who's been consumed by the need for answers.

Someone who made terrible choices trying to find peace in the only way they knew how.

“Get him out of here,” I say finally, my voice hollow. “Take him to Doc. Patch him up.”

“Boss—” Gyle starts.

“Then lock him in the basement at the house,” I continue. “No visitors. No phone calls. No contact with anyone except me until I decide what to do with him.”

I crouch down next to Cas, my voice dropping to something only he can hear.

“You're alive because I understand,” I say quietly. “Because I would have done the same thing if someone had offered me answers about my sister. Because grief makes us do stupid, destructive things.”

I stand back up.

“But make no mistake—you're dead to me. The brother I knew wouldn't have lied for a year. Wouldn't have fed my enemy information. Wouldn't have let me torture the wrong people while staying silent. That person is gone.”

Cas nods, understanding washing over his bloody face.

“You're going to help me destroy Fiona Williams. You're going to tell me every dead drop, every contact, every piece of information you gave her. And then we're going to use it to dismantle her entire operation.”

“And after?” Cas asks quietly.

“After?” I look down at him. “After, we'll see if you're more useful alive or dead.”