Page 100 of Brutal
Not Halstead.
“You’re done here,” I say.
He nods. “For now.” At the door, he pauses. “Try not to confuse craving with connection, Samson.” Then he leaves.
The glass on the sideboard is in my hand before I quite register reaching for it. I hurl it across the room. It shatters against the wall.
For one savage second, the sound helps.
Then it doesn’t. The office falls silent again except for my breathing.
Broken glass. Ruined whiskey.
A child in a gleaming kitchen.
A mother telling me power is choice.
A father teaching me to hit first.
A brother with blood at the corner of his mouth saying weakness like he enjoys it.
And somewhere under all of it, quieter but worse…
My youngest brother. Cain, who learned by watching, observing, all with a chilling look on his face.
I stare at the shattered tumbler as something cold begins to work its way under my skin.
Not memory.
More like recognition.
The one Arthur Vexley built into me with his hands and my mother, Elena, tried to soften with hers.
The one Cain always seemed to understand without ever stepping into the center of it himself.
I stiffen.
Delaney walked into my world today and left with more than she should have.
Not answers.
Not proof.
Something else.
A crack.
And now that I can see it, I can’t stop seeing it.
I didn’t restrain myself with her.
Worse?
I didn’t want to.
That should make the next move obvious.
Cut her off. Shut the door before she steps farther inside.
