Page 48 of Beyond Redemption

“Trent…”

“You dragged her away from us in the dark of night like a fucking thief, lied to us for years, listened passively while we drowned in grief, just to end up in a goddamn militia compound, hoping it’s enough,” he went on. “So don’t stand there and tell me this was the cleanest option. You didn’t betray us to save her. You changed us forever, destroyed your family, just to maybe, possibly delay what you knew was coming.”

“I bought her time while we worked to neutralize the threat,” I said, my voice sounding more like begging than debate.

“No,” he shot back. “You bought convenience for the Bureau. It was easier. Cheaper. Less red tape. Go fuck yourself, Tommy, you selfish son-of-a-bitch.”

“Hey,” I growled.

“You didn’t have the right,” he said. “You were our brother before you were an agent, before you were the smartest guy in the room. You crossed the one line we can’t forgive, and you knew it when you did it. You don’t pick anything or anyone over family.”

“I did it for Olive, and if you’d take a second...”

“Did you?” He stepped back, dragging a hand over his face. “Did you even ask her if that’s what she wanted? If that’s how she wanted to live? You’ve always been the one who decides. The one who knows best. You’re the final say, huh, Tommy?”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling the blood in my veins begin to boil. “After Mom died and Dad disappeared into a bottle, it fell to me. I learned early that you liking me couldn’t drive my decisions. I was potty training Travis, walking you home from school, helping the twins with homework. I took the blame every time one of you little shits broke something or put a hole in a wall doing something stupid. When you skipped school. When you got into fights and came home with a black eye. When you landed in detention. It was always because I wasn’t watching you closely enough.” My jaw tightened. “I intervened and took punches for you when you couldn’t keep your mouths shut, when you were angry and looking for someone to take it out on because Mom was gone. Every call from the school, every screw-up, every consequence landed on me—whether the decision was wrong, or whether it was right and you didn’t think it was fair. I’vealwaysbeen the bad guy. The one you all pile onto. The one you mock, roll your eyes at, blame—because I didn’t have anyone above me to take the hit.

“I didn’t have the luxury of skirting responsibility in all things because I was a kid, so fuck me if I’m that way as an adult, right?” I stepped closer. “So yeah, Trent. I made the call. And I knew exactly what it would cost. I knew one day you’d hate me for it and I did it anyway. Because if something happened to that little girl—yourlittle girl—and I hadn’t acted, I would’ve had to own that too. But I wasn’t willing to let it be the reason you lost her for real.”

His eyes locked onto mine. “You don’t get to play the protective big brother right now. I did lose her for real. The only one who didn’t know that was you.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy and dangerous.

“You want me to apologize and say that I was wrong, but I’m not going to do that. I still think it was the right call at the time.If I had to make that decision again knowing what I know, I’d make the same one.”

His head snapped up. “Say that again.”

“Trent,” Falyn and Abby said at the same time, warning him.

“I would do it again,” I repeated. My voice didn’t waver. “Because if I’d told you—and you’d slipped, or Falyn had slipped, or one of the kids told a funny story at school about something Olive did the day before—if she wasn’t murdered, one of you would’ve been. Hollis. Hadley. Carter, the twins. Gavin… Oliver. Yes, I traded your grief for your lives. And I don’t—I won’t—apologize for it.”

“That’s the thing, Thomas,” Falyn said, her voice sad. “You don’t know that. We could’ve been spared the heartache and been okay.”

“I do know that,” I said. “Because I know the people hunting her.”

Trenton laughed, bitterness soaking through. “Nice speech, but you don’t get credit for martyrdom, Tommy.”

“I’m not asking for it.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I don’t forgive you. I will never forgive you, none of us will.”

His words landed like a punch, harder than anything he could’ve ever thrown. “I understand.”

“Oh, get fucked, you self-righteous piece of shit,” he grumbled. He began to pace, and Tyler rose and followed him. Their whispers filtered over from the back corner of the room, tense and strained.

“Liis is no better,” Abby hissed.

“Don’t bring her into this,” I said. “It was my call.”

Travis’s mouth twisted. “Bullshit. She signed off on it. You made the decision together.”

“She stood with me,” I said. “Same as you would’ve if you had the same information.”

He stared at me, long and hard. “Don’t tell me what I would’ve done. What do you know about the capabilities of the Carlisis and the Yakuza that I don’t? I haven’t been out of the game that long… sir.”

He wasn’t wrong. Travis—and Abby—had both worked with the Bureau in one capacity or another until Abby gathered up enough info on her father to get at least a few of the main players locked away. But then Travis was released, his involvement in the fire that started it all forgiven.

“There was no other way,” I said, my tone final.