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“She loved you, unfortunately.”
He coughs a laugh that turns into another grimace. “Not enough. Not enough for the almighty Crotaveres. Fucking worthless family that has this stupid town under its thumb because of what? A hotel? A nightclub? A not-so-secret fucking society?”
His bloody lip curls. “None of you deserve the adoration you receive here. I only wanted to expose the rot beneath the decadence.”
I sigh, deeply unimpressed with his reasoning. It’s embarrassing when a man’s villainy exceeds his imagination.
Reverend Simon Francis Lyle, slaughtered in the cemetery, dedicated a small fraction of his life to guiding lost souls, though he was regrettably never able to locate his own.
Who am I kidding? No one will be printing his obituary in the Sunday paper.
“You thought Patrick would help you destroy us?”
“He is. I got rid of Harold, Patrick became your leader, and now it’ll be a steady downhill slide for you boys from here on out.”
My jaw clenches. “You admit you killed him.”
Frank gives an exaggerated shrug. “What do I have to lose now? I was born in that gaudy bedroom, then cut off like a tumor. He kept me from knowing my mom. He killed my dad. Then my brothers had every privilege in the world handed to them.”
He looks over us with obvious hatred. “What a sorry lot you are. It’s been my mission to ruin this family like you ruined mine. And I’m satisfied that I made my mark.”
I stare at him, marveling at the unfortunate miracle of my mother’s blood surviving in someone so profoundly undeserving.
Then I look at Zaiya. She’s standing there, my jacket wrapped tight around her, eyes fixed on Frank until she drags them up to me. She reaches into the pocket and fishes out my knife. It clicks open in her hand before she offers it to me.
I take the handle. My brothers are done waiting. So am I.
“You can meet your worthless father in hell.”
I drive the blade into Frank’s gut, mercifully avoiding anything that would kill him too quickly. His breath punches out, his face twisting as I drag the knife free. I’ve heard enough. Whatever confession he thinks remains inside him has already lost its audience.
Reese takes the knife from me first. Frank’s eyes move between us, and some of that defiance slips away. Maybe now he understands what he spent all this time trying to destroy. Five brothers standing together where he always believed there should have been a place for him.
Reese drives the blade in. Then Tristan. Marcus. Lucian.
Frank stays on his feet only because they keep him there. By the time the knife comes back to me, blood has soaked through the front of his shirt and his breathing has turned wet and shallow.
I don’t take another turn. I don’t need one.
His knees give, and my brothers let him slide down the white marble, leaving a streak of red behind him.
Right on the other side of where our mother and father lie.
A breeze moves through the cemetery, rustling the trees that separate the graves from our land. Smoke drifts across the headstones. Sirens start up in the distance.
If my parents are watching from somewhere, I hope they understand. It doesn’t bring either of them back. But his hands are finally off my family.
I wipe my bloody hand on my shirt and return to Zaiya. She’s unnervingly calm. She’s beaten death. She’s killed someone. And now she’s standing here looking like she crawled out of a nightmare.
“You and I are bound together,” I say. “You’re part of this family now. This is how we handle things.”
She rises on her tiptoes to kiss me. It’s quick, but it’s real.
A line of firetrucks emerges from behind the trees, lights flashing red across the cemetery as they rush towards the church. The police chief’s car follows, slow and steady, with the patience of a man who already knows what he’s going to pretend he didn’t see.
Reese comes to stand by me for support, a wall at my shoulder.
Chief Granger approaches, face tight, eyes flicking from the burning church to the figures near the mausoleum. He looks at Zaiya wrapped in my jacket, at me, at my brothers.
