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“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“What makes you think you have the right to ask me questions, anyway?”

A faint curve touches his mouth. Cain sees too much. He always has. Even as a boy, he looked at people as if he had X-ray vision, searching for their weaknesses.

“Father isn’t here,” he says.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Does he know you use his office when he’s gone?”

“No.”

“Bold.” Cain’s almost-smile vanishes. He walks farther into the office and stops near the chair opposite the desk. “I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

Chills skitter over me. If Cain wants to talk after being gone for so long, it can’t mean anything good.

“What about?”

“Father enlisted my help.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That usually means someone is about to suffer.”

Cain holds my gaze with his gray eyes. Gray. Not blue. Not silver. Gray as night fog. They suit him.

“Yes,” he says quietly.

“With what?” I ask.

“To take care of Samson.”

I let out a laugh. Except it’s not really a laugh. It’s a humorless choking sound. It’s no secret what take care of means in this family. “No.”

“No?” he repeats.

“No. Father didn’t ask you to take care of Samson. He may be angry. He may be manipulating him. He may want him dragged back into line. But he didn’t order you to do anything permanent.”

Cain smooths one hand over his jawline. “Didn’t he?”

My pulse slows. Odd, since my mind is racing. My brother—my little brother—is a dangerous man. More dangerous than Samson. Than I am. Even than our father is.

“What did Samson do?”

Cain finally sits. “He fell in love.”

This time I do laugh. “Samson isn’t capable of falling in love.” Though even as I say the words, I don’t believe them. I did a few weeks ago. But now? Samson let a woman become his weakness. Just like Father told me all those years ago not to do.

Perhaps that’s love.

Perhaps…

Fuck. Ella. I wipe the thought from my mind. Right now I need to figure out how to stop my little brother from killing my older one.

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”