Then, she asked, “Do you know who it was? The one on the bike?”
Skorpion might not have, but there was a chance Kit did. He knew more people than she could ever keep up with.
“Not yet.”
But she could tell from the look on his face that he had an idea.
“Where are we, anyway?”
“Your home for the next few days.”
Luna narrowed her eyes. “Say that again?”
“Until this situation is under control, I need to make sure you’re safe.”
“I can handle myself. You don’t—”
“Luna.”
Sighing in frustration, she circled around him to leave the safe room, knowing that no matter what she said, he wouldn’t be changing his mind—not when he got that tone.
“Then at least feed me.”
At least then she could be unhappy and full.
The sharp crack of the wooden spoon across his knuckles made Kit flinch, but he didn’t dare utter a noise, knowing all too well the consequences should he make even the slightest of sounds.
Even as young as he was, he had learned how to channel his pain, burying it deep until he felt nothing. Once, he hadn’t realized one of his fingers had been broken until he allowed himself to feel again.
It should have been worrying how easy it was to slip into this role, but there was no one around to notice.
Not really.
“How did this happen!” Abigail demanded, her weapon in one hand, her glass of wine in the other as she violently swung around to point the spoon back where Uilleam sat at the dining room table, tears spilling from his eyes.
Eyes that were trained on them.
His arm was being set by the family’s physician, the man as ancient in appearance as he seemed in age. He, unlike Uilleam, refused to even glance in their direction. He knew better than to get involved.
“I’m sorry,” Kit said, sounding shockingly calm despite the way Abigail stood over him with wild, watery eyes.
He had long since learned not to plead his case when she was in one of her moods—and he had long since stopped calling her mum once he realized that if he did within hearing distance of her, she smacked him on the back of his head.
And also because he would rather not assign a title like that to a woman who didn’t deserve it.
“I told you to watch after your brother, but no! You cant even manage that. Stupid! Useless! Boy!” Each word was punctuated by a sharp crack of the spoon.
She struck with abandon, without fear. She didn’t care that she hurt him, only that in her mind, he had hurt Uilleam.
It didn’t matter that Kit wasn’t responsible, that he had warned Uilleam not to climb onto the roof after him.The boy did what he wanted, whenever he wanted, and this wasn’t news to anyone that shared a home with him.
But because Kit had been out there too, the fault lay at his feet.
Uilleam’s fall onto the balcony below where they had sat was an accident, a slip of his grip on the stone’s edge. Kit’s heart had felt like it dropped out of his chest as he’d reached to catch him, his hands catching air.
But when he heard Uilleam’s scream of pain below, he had never been more thankful for anything in his short life.
He knew what would come later.
He knew Abigail would punish him, but he accepted it, because the punishment he would have received if Uilleam hadn’t drawn another breath would have been far worse.
Abigail continued to wail on him, changing her target until she had grown weak and was too tired to continue. Once she was gone, ushering Uilleam up the stairs for bed, she ordered that Kit remain exactly where he was for the remainder of the night.
As he was leaving, the physician hesitated. “This … this was not your fault.”
Kit didn’t respond.
It was his fault because Abigail was right.
He should have protected his brother.
Kit entered the warehouse with a brief look around.
There were a few nurses on standby, though they were engrossed by their own conversation to pay much attention to Kit’s entrance.
He didn’t go unnoticed by Skorpion, however.
How long had it been since he had last seen the mercenary?
A couple of years?
At one time, the man had been Uilleam’s personal guard, but has since taken on more jobs with the Den as opposed to with Uilleam.
The mercenary jerked his chin in Kit’s direction, but didn’t move from his vantage point that allowed an unobstructed view of the room.
Returning the gesture, Kit slipped behind the curtain that divided where Uilleam rested and the rest of the floor. Uilleam was watching him, but the usual playful arrogance was gone from his eyes.
A white sheet covered his lap, and beneath the dotted gown he wore, Kit could just see the edge of bandages.
“It’s good to see you’re awake,” Kit said, hanging his coat on the back of a chair before sitting.
Uilleam frowned, pressing a button on the remote in his hand to lift the bed so he was sitting up. “I wish I wasn’t.” His voice was rough, tinged with pain. “How on earth did you manage this?”