Page 99 of Brutal
“You want action,” I say. “Fine. Here it is. She walked in here. She walked out. She got nothing she can use.”
Nathaniel wipes more blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re wrong.”
I don’t speak.
“Because every time you touch her,” he says, “you give her something.”
I look away first. Toward the dark window. Toward my own reflection ghosted over the city skyline. Broad shoulders. Hard mouth. A man my father built for battle.
Nate moves behind me without sound. “Do you know what Father would say?”
“I don’t particularly care.”
He steels his gaze. “He’d say if a thing can move you, it can be used.”
“He’s not here,” I grit out.
“No,” Nathaniel says. “But you carry him everywhere.”
Neither of us speaks for a moment.
Until—
“And Cain learned from watching both of you.”
I turn. That was deliberate. Our brother’s name. Cain was always the quietest presence in any room. He was always looking, never appearing to take sides. A boy who used to stand in the doorway while our father pushed and our mother held back and Nate observed.
I remember Cain at twelve, lanky and pale in the training room doorway, saying nothing while I split another boy’s lip.
Just watching.
The thought leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
“What exactly are you implying?” I ask.
“Only that some people don’t need to touch the blade to know where it will cut.”
I move back toward the desk because if I don’t put something solid between us, I may hit him again.
“She’s asking the wrong questions,” he says.
“How do you know what she’s asking?”
“I know what matters.”
I rub at my forehead. “That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s enough of one.”
I brace my hands on the desk and lean forward. “Then give me the right question.”
Nathaniel hesitates just long enough for me to notice it. Then, “Who was supposed to be there?”
Because that is the question.
The one Delaney is circling. The one I keep stepping around.
Who was supposed to be there?
