JAXON “Unfortunately, he is still in his bedroom and will be with you shortly.” Barnes looks away from us almost as quickly as the words leave his lips. That’s how I know that my uncle will not—in fact—be joining us shortly. “That’s strange,” Ronan strokes his chin as he settles into one of the many lounge chairs in uncle Abel’s meeting room. “He knew we were coming. He asked us to.” “And he’s never late.” I add. Barnes clears his throat—which would make it the third time he’s done that in the ten minutes we’ve been speaking to him—lean fingers adjust the hold of his necktie. Strange. It looks free enough. “Well, your uncle has taken to new…interests nowadays. And these…” I cock a brow. “Interests?” “Yes. These interests now take up a lot of his time. I’ll have you know he has had every meal of the day in his bedroom since last night.” “Oh.” Malachi echoes. We nod in understanding, and I can’t help the smile that creeps up to my cheek. Only one thing can keep my uncle confined to the hexagonal walls of his state of the art bedroom for twenty-four hours, or even more. “Whose grandmother is she?” Ronan and Malachi burst into laughter. “You’re crazy, Jaxon.” “What? I’m just saying aloud what everyone else is thinking. Barnes, come on, tell us, is her daughter some young minister, senator, who?” “She doesn’t have a daughter. No children, in fact.” He stands straight, hands behind his back. I lean forward, fingers locked in front of me as I take him in. He isn’t lying. “Wild and free. I didn’t think that was uncle’s type.” “Technically, she is not of age to be anyone’s grandmother. Mother, maybe, but certainly not grandmother.”Oh. “So she’s young?” Barnes coughs. “A bit too young if you ask me.” Wait. “What?” We chorus, and Barnes jaw drops in shock as his eyes widen, realizing the gravity of his sentence, he shakes his head, panic stricken. “No. No. That is certainly not what I mean. She is young, but not THAT young. Think…think Gerald, your cousin.” “Well he never treated us like a cousin, but I get your point.” Ronan says, and we all sit back, relieved. I mean, uncle Abel might be many things, but I never took him for someone into younger women. Must be a surprise, even for Barnes who has been with him all his life. “If you boys are done talking about me behind my back, we can begin this meeting.” Shivers, most of them good, trail down my spine as I tilt my head backwards. There he is, Abel Langford in all his glory. And by his right is a certain dark haired lady, a little younger than me if I’m not mistaken. Short black hair that stops just beneath her ears, clad in nothing but his black bathrobe. I get it now. “Uncle!” I rise up, spreading my arms open for a hug. He raises his right brow at me, my hands drop to my sides immediately. “Boys, this is Rosalind. But I call her Rose. Rose,” he turns to her. “These are my sons.” She looks oddly surprised by the word “sons”, but that’s not what catches my interest. I swear I’ve seen her before. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” she says, tearing her gaze away from us the first chance she gets. I stare at her left hand, locked in my uncle’s right hand. She’s shorter, with her head barely touching his chest, and a quarter his size. While my uncle is mostly muscle, she’s mostly bones. From the silence of my brothers, I can tell I’m not the only one shocked. “I’ll be with you shortly, Rose. My boys need me.” She nods. I see the red tint that colors her bony cheeks. “Alright.” On her tiptoes, she presses a kiss on his cheek. We watch silently as she turns her back to us and leaves through the iron twin doors my uncle had walked in. Once she’s gone, Malachi breaks the awkward silence. “I can bet a million bucks I’ve seen her before.” “Me too,” Ronan adds. “She almost looks like…” “If you’re thinking of my son's personal assistant, you’re right.” I fucking knew it! We work very closely with Langford Group of Companies, which shouldn’t be a surprise. We’re technically family. As a result, we see Gerald more times than we want to, but he’s nothing we can’t handle. He’s an asshole, no doubt. Still, when push comes to shove, we’re bigger assholes. And Caroline Walters is about to find out. “Uncle,” Ronan chuckles with a sinister tone. “You dirty fucker.” He says nothing, just smiles, shrugs it off, and makes his way to the middle of the room. There are files on the table, ones we ignored while waiting for him. He takes a seat and flips the first one open. It’s a picture. Detective Caroline is walking out of a building with a young boy, about seventeen. He doesn’t seem very keen on walking beside her from the look on his face. “She has a son. He is the key to getting rid of her.” My throat tightens as I hold on to the edge of my seat. It feels wrong what uncle suggests. I have never been one to shy away from getting rid of opposition, but using a son against a mother? “What?” Uncle Abel frowns, his eyes darting from me to my brothers. “Don’t tell me you three have suddenly developed a conscience?” Malachi and I look at Ronan, who heaves a tired sigh. It’s good to see I’m not alone. “It’s a bit too much, uncle. Even for her.” “She will get you three arrested. She is an enemy.” “But she’s a mother…” And so is Sarah. “…and that should be her biggest weakness.” I reply. “I want nothing more than to slit her throat. My blades haven’t been used in a while, they must miss the taste of blood…”His eyes narrow into slits as he watches me. “But, we’ve decided that we would only use violence as our last resort. Never first.” The look in his eyes forces me to cough and sit upright. My hand slowly finds the itchy spot at the back of my head. “We appreciate your help, uncle. But we’re not going to hurt her son to get to her. There has to be something else we can do.” “We should do a background check on him,” Malachi says. “I’m sorry to say, but he does look like a delinquent. Either that, or he’s just a spoiled brat. And spoiled brats his age always have secrets. There should be something we should know about him, something she wouldn’t want anyone else to know.” Uncle breaks into a smile, which takes me by surprise. “She must be an Angel to have changed you three so drastically.” My cheeks feel hot at the mere thought of her. There’s a queasy feeling in my stomach, like birds flapping their wings. Really tiny birds though, colorful ones, that show up when one is happy, elated. I almost forget about the insanity that brought us here in the first place. “But you’re right. I did look into her son as well. Turns out he does have a secret, and she’s managed to exempt him from it.” He shuffles the pictures and pulls one from under another. “Emily Jefferson, St Thomas High School, 2023, was raped to death by seven teenage boys who were also students of St Thomas…” Bile rises to my throat, sticks on my tongue like glue. No matter how many times I swallow hard, it won't go away. Uncle Abel pulls out a clearer picture of the boy from the one with the detective. It’s so visible—the wickedness in his crystal blue eyes. “…her boy, Duncan Thomas, was one of them. The official report says six, he was somehow exonerated. But I have proof that he was one of them, and she somehow managed to make sure it all disappeared.” he holds the picture up with both hands. He looks at each of us in turn, that smile of his growing increasingly wide, until his cold eyes glitter with pure mischief. “This,” he says, lifting the photo between his fingers and waving it lightly in the air, “is her Achilles’ heel.” The photo flutters back down, face-first.