Page 31 of Burned

Blaze lounges near the fireplace with the air of the New Yorker he was born and bred to be. He cares more about protecting his people than his own life expectancy.

He’s got one heavy boot crossed over the other, his expression carved into something between boredom and violence.

Bayne stands by the bay window, arms crossed over his chest, watching the thick line of trees beyond the marshy green land. A Scottish King at home, lording over our current corner of this wee Scottish island. He looks at the forest as if he’s hoping someone stupid enough to die wanders our way.

We’re all getting a little stir-crazy here.

Mack is near the door, silent and alert, his attention cutting briefly to Erin before returning to the outside.

Rafe sits to the right at the head of a long wooden table, his laptop open in front of him.

Gregory sits next to Rafe, sandy hair mussed, glasses slipping down his nose as he studies Rafe’s screen over his shoulder. He’s a softer echo of me.

I want him safe, which means anywhere but here, yet he still refuses to leave. I don’t allow my younger brother to be an active participant in what we do. He is a dry-humored, emotionally intelligent observer who gives advice when needed.

Loyal and steady, even after the gunshots and blood came out.

I don’t yet know whether that makes him brave or foolish.

Or a better version of me.

Possibly all three.

Gregory looks out of place here among weapons, scars, and men with blood under their fingernails. He still wears the same tired dignity he had when Erin was bleeding and he was trying not to come apart. There is a healing bruise along his cheekbone and a careful stiffness in the way he sits, but his eyes are clear.

Too clear.

He’s a man who has seen the curtain pulled back and decided to keep looking.

I built that Ivy League iron curtain with blood and sweat. I kept him swaddled in private schools and privilege after our parents died.

I’m still as pissed as I am grateful to Bayne for bursting Gregory out of his bubble, the one I put him in after our parents died in that car crash, to shield him from what he’d been born into.

Bayne has a younger brother, one he tried to shield from the mafia world, too. I believe he’s currently in LA, trying his hand at acting.

About as far from their wee Scottish island of crime as the kid could be.

Same as Erin and Cass bringing Ryan to New York, as far from their forgotten corner of Northern England as they could manage.

Clawing at stone to protect those we love.

We try. And sometimes we fail.

And now we’re all intertwined and in more danger than ever before.

“Report,” I say.

Rafe’s gaze flicks from Erin to me.

A question.

No. Not a question.

A challenge.

He wants to know if she is staying.

I want to tell her to sit with Cass. To check on Ryan. To be somewhere behind locked doors, away from old ghosts, new threats, and the part of my life that keeps trying to swallow her whole.