“What?” he asked when he saw my face.
I paused, glancing around quickly before whispering, “I was just thinking about Ivy’s death—”
“The person who shot her was an expert.” He frowned as we got out into the upper deck behind the house, the rain still pouring down. “Clean shot through and through, she used a bullet that was small yet strong enough to not shatter the skull.”
“She?” I questioned, looking to him. “How do you know it was female who shot her?”
He paused, thinking to himself before smiling and reaching out to touch the rain. “I don’t. I was thinking of your Aunt Melody. It’s the type of shot I would have done.”
“The great Aunt Melody,” I replied, walking out into the rain and toward the stairs. “Either way, the shot was good. But that wasn’t what I was thinking.”
“It wasn’t?”
I shook my head as we walked, the rain beating down on us both.
“I was thinking…I’m glad she’s dead,” I said seriously, causing him to stare at me just as seriously but not speaking. I added, “If she was alive, Ethan would be still here. He’s like the sun. We all have to revolve around him. And as great as it is, sometimes the rain needs its glory, too.”
“What did we do to you children?” he replied with a smile on his lips.
“Made us into a better verison of you,” I reminded him.
They made us them, so we’d go on finishing what they started. They couldn’t blame us now. Everyone was born with a destiny in this family.
That was to get power and keep it.
DECLAN
“Call me back, okay? I love you.” Cora sighed, taking the earpiece out of her ear and tossing it on to her vanity counter before rubbing the side of her head.
Walking up behind her, I placed my hands on her shoulder and massaged gently as she leaned back into me. “She’s not answering my calls.”
“Did you expect her to?” I asked back softly. “She has a right to be upset. More than a right.”
She frowned, turning around to stare at me with those deep brown eyes of hers. “I know she has a right, but it still doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to worry about her even if it is my fault.”
“Our fault,” I replied. I took a seat beside her on her bench. “I’m not sure if we’ve been raising them or ruining them. Should I be proud that Helen knows right from wrong and chooses what most people would consider right? If I am, then how can I also be proud of Darcy for wanting to do what is wrong? I’m so bloody confused, Cora.”
She leaned over, resting her head on my shoulder. “I’m pretty sure ruining your children is part of parenting...how else can they grow up and protect themselves from the world?”
“Brilliant.” I wrapped my arms around her as I snickered. “We’ve done a wonderful job then.”
She giggled but only before briefly sighing again. “Darcy’s retiring. Apparently, he hates basketball...did you know?”
“No,” I grimaced and shook my head. “He looked fine, happy. He said he was. I took him at his word and supported him. But I should have known better.”
“How?” She frowned, sitting up and forcing me to face her. “How in the world should we have known that?”
“He’s my son,” I said back to her. “He may look more like you, but since he was a baby, all I could see was this younger version of myself. Just like him, I was shy, liked to observe, and didn’t want to rock the boat. I told myself over and over just be happy with what I have. Yet deep down I was aching to....to be Liam. However, because he was like my brother, I pushed my ambition to the side and went along to get along. I was the good little solider. I accepted that long ago, but you should have heard Darcy. It was like being lectured by the part of me I let go of. He all but said I cheated him out of his inheritance…and I did! Because I was weak. Because I was so passive.... I altered both his destiny and my own.”
“Bullllllllshit,” she all but sang as she rose from the bench and took off her earrings.
“Excuse me?” I couldn’t help but grin, watching her gear up to lecture mode.
“Bullshit!” she repeated while undoing the side zipper of her pencil skirt. “If Darcy wanted something, he should have spoken up! Since the day he came into this world, you, his father, has moved heaven and earth for him, more than he will ever know. Cheated him? Ha! It’s easy for him to say that when he doesn’t know what the world really would have looked like had you taken over the family. I can tell you for damn sure, I wouldn’t have been your wife, and he wouldn’t be himself. And on top of that, whatever son you did have would have been forced to live under the constant threat of being murdered… well, more than they already are. Ethan’s wife just took a bullet to the head! Is anyone shooting at Darcy? No. Why? Because he’s not the boss. And because he’s not the boss, but still a Callahan, he’s free to do anything he damn well pleases, and I mean anything. The fact that it even took him this long to get to the point where he could speak his mind means he wouldn’t have been able to stand on his own when he was eighteen...the same year Ethan had to. And another thing, we are alive! His parents, both of us, are alive. Can Ethan say that? No. Why? Because his father and mother made the choice to stand in front. He is the man he is today because you have stood beside him—”
“Bravo!” I laughed, applauding her. “You tell him, baby.”
“I’m being serious.” She laughed back, taking off her shirt and throwing it at me.
It was as if she’d taken the weight off of my shoulders. Rising from the bench and walking over to her, I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tightly. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I feel better.”
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel better. I was just telling you the truth,” she muttered while trying to wiggle out of my arms. “He should never complain about having a father like you, cause even with how much we’ve ruined them, there still isn’t a father better than you.”
“I’m sure Helen, when she calms down, will think the same of you,” I told her softly, and she paused.
“What if she never forgives us?”
It hurt to think that. The thought was so painful; I didn’t want to even entertain it. “No matter what, we’ll love her, and hopefully that will be enough.”
“I want her home,” she said, hugging me tighter. “I feel so damn old, Declan. Look at me, whining about our kids. I feel like those old ladies who still treat their children like infants.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything, but now that you mention it—ahh. Kidding, I’m kidding,” I said when she elbowed me and bowed out of my grasp.
Glaring, she walked toward our bathroom. “Well, don’t mind me. I’m going to take my old self to bathroom and soak these old bones in the bath by myself.”
“Baby,” I tried to follow, but she closed the door right in my face. “I love you!” I shouted through the door.
I waited. Then just like always, she opened it a crack, still glaring at me, but I could see the amusement in her eyes.
“You think the bath could hold two sets of old bones?” I questioned, leaning on the frame, unable to stop myself from smiling as I looked to her.
She didn’t open the door wider. Instead, she leaned on the frame with me. “You are infuriating, you know that?”
“What did I do now?”
“You make me feel like everything is alright, that everything will always be alright, when I want to be panicking about our children. We should be looking for Helen—”
I took my phone out and let her look at the map. “She took a drive to Rock State Park and then a walk before getting groceries and then headed back to her penthouse.”
“You don’t think you should have told me this when you first got in?” she asked, trying to take the phone from me, but I pulled it back, standing up straighter.
“Deny you the chance to vent? Never.” I grinned.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why do I feel like you’re calling me predictable?”
/> “That’s a very negative way to see it,” I stated as I slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside.
“And how do you see it?” she asked, stepping back slightly, but never looking away from me.
“I see it as the product of thirty years of studying,” I replied, grabbing on to her hips before lifting her up. Her arms instantly wrapped around my neck. “I have a PhD in Coraline.”
“Oh, in that case, Doctor, please—”
My lips were on hers before she could even ask. She found me infuriating? The feeling was mutual. How was it that everywhere she wasn’t, was chaos…I felt as bad as she did when I came in, and yet the moment she began to speak, everything else melted away. How could I not feel like everything is alright, that everything will always be alright…I had her.
And that was all I needed. What I gave up, what I could I have been, what I could have had…none of it held a light to what I had with her.
Peace.
It wasn’t the measure of power that made a man, it was the measure to which he felt loved.
SEVEN
“There is a little boy inside the man who is my brother… Oh, how I hated that little boy. And how I love him too.”
~ Anna Quindlen
WYATT
One week had gone by like it was nothing. So much had happened, and there was still so much more I needed to do…so much I couldn’t do.
“You’ve reached Helen Callahan, please leave a message.”
“Helen, please answer. I need…” Does she give a damn what you need after what you did to her? The thought stopped me mid-sentence. Hanging up the phone and tossing it onto the glass table, I leaned back into the chair, running my hands through my hair and fighting the urge to pull.
“Cain, explain to me why I don’t have access to the family files?” I sighed, closing my eyes.
“Wyatt Callahan, your access had been denied, and I cannot answer your question. Unlock your access.”
“Why?! Why is my access denied if I can get in the fucking room!” I snapped, looking back at the screens, which all had the same password request on them. I was able to look through Ethan’s hard file in his study, but half the damn information was cited in Cain. Which made it only one step above fucking useless.
“Wyatt Callahan, your access had been denied, and I cannot answer your question. Unlock your access.”
“Fuck you,” I muttered, ready to chuck my phone at Cain, the fucking computer was pissing me off.
“Password denied.”
Rolling my eyes and inhaling, I stared. I tried to think, but I didn’t remember setting a password or even being giving one. “Cain, who set the password?”
I waited for Cain to give me the same reply. Instead, it said, “Ethan Callahan.”
Of course, he’d be the one! Even when he wasn’t here, he was being a pain in my ass—wait. “So. I can ask questions about the password.”
“You have three more tries,” Cain replied.
I moved closer to the screen, trying to think…when I remembered what I’d said to my uncle. I’m not the thinker. That’s Ethan. If I knew my brother, he’d thought of this moment…hell, he must have planned it. So this, like everything else he did, was a test…I had three chances to get the right answer…and the purpose of all his tests had always been for one thing… to get me back to where I should have already been. As he had said. He wanted me here. I had access to this room even though I had no access to the data because he wanted me back in the family, and if that was the case and knowing me…he’d give me a hint.
“Cain, my second question is, “What is the hint?” I crossed my arms over my chest, staring at the screen.
“Hint: What you should have said?”
Rolling my eyes, I said, “Cain, the password is…sorry.”
“Password denied.”
Shaking my head, I moved back to the chair, sitting on the edge, hunched over as I tried to go over this again…I was right about the hint. But what should I have said?
“Cain, the password is…it’s my fault?”
“Password denied.”
“Of course, it is.” I grumbled, almost ready to pick up my phone and call Dona…until I realized how pitiful that was. I needed to call my sister for help getting into a fucking computer. I looked up at the top panels…the irony…the three people who I never expected to not be here—Dona, Ethan, Helen—all of them were gone. And now it was just me. I hated how I was starting to realize how useless I was on my own…everything I could do before I did with the belief they’d always been where I left them.
Like they were toys. But I’m trying to fucking make up for it! “Cain, remind me to tell Ethan he sucks at hints.” I grinned to myself, closing my eyes.
“Second hint,” Cain replied, and my eyes snapped back open. “I don’t suck at hints you just suck at understanding me…as always. Just like you did when you came back from camp.”
I wanted to laugh at how he knew what I’d say, but I was still trying to think back to when I went to camp.
I’d never gone to camp. I wanted to, but our mother said that I didn’t need any fancy camp and instead took me to California for three weeks to train with her, just like she’d done for Dona and Ethan. I made it back in time for Dona and my…
“Cain, can you show me security footage from my twelfth birthday?”
“Showing Dona and Wyatt’s twelfth birthday party,” Cain replied as the footage appeared on a screen. I couldn’t look away from my mother on the screen as she took off my blindfold. I was already on edge from her boot camp, so upon realizing I was home, I was emotional and tired. I had just wanted to cry. I watched as Dona ran and hugged me tightly and as we walked through the front door, every surface covered in presents and action figures. Grinning, I watched my twelve-year-old self try to peel Dona off of me, her puffy dress scratching my arms. The more I struggled, the more she held on, and because she was a little tyrant, she called for a cannon ball. Obliging her, Helen, Sedric, Darcy, and Nari all tackled me.
“Urgh, guys, I’m sore,” I said to the video, knowing that wouldn’t change anything, when the camera suddenly focused on Ethan’s face.
“Cain, is there volume?” I asked.
“You have no more questions.”
Rolling my eyes, I watched intently, trying to remember what Ethan had said to me. Instead, I just watched as all my cousins and Dona got off me when he spoke…thank God, they were going to crush me—I started to think when I noticed my reaction to his words was what I remembered. For some reason, I was upset. I was snapping at him. Ethan just rolled his eyes at me and turned to walk away. Had I not been focusing on his lips, I would have missed it.
“Cain, rewind a second.”
I watched again as his lips muttered something as he turned away.
“Cain, rewind again.”
On the third time, I was sure. Part of me wished I wasn’t. I was tired of reflecting on what a little shit I was.
“Cain the password is…I missed you, too.”
“Password accepted,” Cain replied. I could only put my hand over my mouth, watching as the system unlocked. “Your access is unlocked. Welcome, Wyatt. How can I help?”
“Has anyone invented a time machine yet?” I asked sarcastically, forgetting sarcasm wasn’t apparently Cain’s strong suit.
“Searching…there are no journals or articles on the inventor of the time machine.”
“Never mind.” I was still looking at the screen. I couldn’t even remember my twelfth birthday clearly, and yet well over a decade later, it was still on his mind. I’d been upset, upset with my mother, with training. I’d missed being home…I’d missed Dona and Ethan. But I didn’t know how to say it then, so I lashed out…even when I came home this last time, did I tell him how I missed him? We were both horrible when it came to communicating with each other. Dona was our spokesperson… and most times, we just went on as if it never happened. I felt like I could never speak to him because it was like everyt
hing else. I struggled with it, and he exceled at it by nature.
“Cain, how many times did Ethan save me?”
“Opening Wyatt-related incidents folder for the last ten years.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ethan, you are so damn petty.” I had to laugh. Of course—not only would he record all of the times he’d saved my ass, but he’d also store them in a special fucking folder.
“What year would you like?”
I wanted to tell Cain to delete the folder…surely, he’d know that and wouldn’t let me delete it, right? “Delete the folder.”
“Access denied.”
I grinned. “Well, it’s good to know I know him as well as he knows me.”
“Cain, create an Ethan-related incidents folder.” Fuck it, I was petty, too. “Sub-folder this year. First file mark as Boston.”
No further explanation would be needed.
“Created.”
Nodding, I lifted up the files on the desk behind me. “New file marked Ivy, and pull up video feed from Airstrip 17453, at noon.”
“Should I play this video?” Looking up, I nodded—for a second forgetting I wasn’t talking to a real person.
“Play video.”
“Playing,” Cain stated, and I watched as Ivy spun around. “Pause,” I said, watching the bullet go through her head. “Rewind, play 3x slower, and zoom. Pause. Repeat last ten seconds.”
“Repeating.”
“Repeat again, 5x slower.” Watching the video of the bullet come out of her brain, I noticed the trajectory was going upward…it wasn’t going down. Most snipers shot from a sniper’s nest. Like a bird’s nest, a sniper’s nest was higher and usually farther away, allowing snipers to never come close to their victims. But this person…this person had shot from nearby, very near. The person who shot Ivy was definitely on that airstrip with us. “Cain, cross-reference all personnel on Airstrip 17453 with the employee log, exclude family.”
As Cain searched, I laid our three biggest threats on the table. Sayalero of Miami. Rocha of Houston. Villalobos of New Mexico. It would have actually been easier if they were mafia families. I’d know who was the head and at least who to go after. Cartels were a pain in the ass for the very same reason they were useful… they were nothing but pawns. If one died, another would replace him. You needed to destroy the whole structure. Ethan and our parents used local cartels to hide their footprints and to keep locals fearful enough to stay out of certain areas. When the cartels were loyal, they got a decent cut, got a reputation, and all was right with the world. For Villalobos, Ethan had found out that the current head was a kid by the name of Joaquin Agar, who had made a name for himself by killing his uncle eight months back, putting a cog in our well-oiled machine.