MALACHI The room is silent for a few minutes—seconds. My brothers and I stare at the boy in the photo, at a complete loss for words. I, for one, have nothing reasonable to say about what my uncle has just told us. However, when I think about the self righteous nose scrunch the detective wore on her face throughout her visit—not to forget when we were brought in for questioning—I’m overcome by a dire need to puke and laugh at the same time. In true Malachi HawkThorne fashion, I choose the latter. I’m unable to cease my laughter. It’s only a matter of time before my brothers join me, even when I can tell they do not understand why all of this is so funny to me. “Can you believe it?” I finally say, when my words come back to me. “I could have sworn she’s never gotten a parking ticket in her entire laugh, and she has a whole murderer and rapist for a son! Humans…” I shake my head, my laughter slowly dying at the base of my throat. “We’re impossible, really.” “Is there strong proof of this, uncle?” Ronan asks, and uncle Abel nods. “My sources say there’s someone with video evidence, someone who was there that day. They were called to testify when the other boys were arrested, but they suddenly withdrew from the case. Claimed it was a lie, and they never saw anything.” “Because a video would have damned her son as well.” “There’s no telling if she has a hand in that,” Uncle replies Jaxon. “But this kid can be found, has been found. It’s been two years, we’re trying to see if we can recover the video from him.” I sit up straight. “It’ll give us leverage, put her in a spot she can’t look away from.” “This would tell her we have something to hide.” Jaxon scratches his chin, worry stretched across the lines on his face. “It will,” I respond. “But she wouldn’t take her chances, not when her own life would come into question. She would take the bait, I know it.” Leaning backwards, my right leg crosses over my left. A long sigh escapes my lips. In some way, I am relieved we were able to handle this without resorting to our…normal means. We gave Sarah our word, and we intend to keep it. “I wonder how she must feel, having to look at her son everyday and see what a monster he is.” Jaxon shrugs. “I’m glad our mother wasn’t here to see us become what we did.” “It wouldn’t have happened if she was here.” Ronan seethes. “I think it would have, though.” Everyone turns to me. Ronan has his right brow raised, demanding an explanation. Why do I think we would have become heartless, ruthless monsters if our mother was still alive? “In a way, I think it’s always been a part of us, this ruthlessness. Mother always said she could just feel it in her bones that we would make wonderful brothers. Look at us,” my lips thin into a smile. “Three boys from three different families and orphanages, and we bonded faster than lightning.” My right foot meets the ground. “Maybe this is it. Maybe she could sense it, see it.” Jaxon narrows his eyes on me. “What?” My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. It’s been a while since I allowed myself to think of her, since we openly talked about her. It’s a sore and soft spot for us. Her death tarnished almost every memory we had of her for so long, but it’s time to put it behind us. I push the lump in my throat down to my stomach. “The need to survive, to become something—someone—no matter the cost. That’s why she gave it all to us. She must have known that we would treasure it and do our best with it.” “And you did.” Uncle Abel cuts in. “You made the best out of the coins you were dealt. I am proud of you three, even more now that you’ve fallen in love.” Sparks light up in my cheeks. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Uncle Abel chuckles. “That she took you three back after the insanity she went through? Hell yes.” The room lights up with laughter. “She must be just as insane as you three without knowing it yet. But it gives me joy to see you three making it work, making love work, and treating a woman just as beautifully as I’ll have wanted my sister to be treated.” His gaze drops to the ground, voice falters…no more confidence and gusto. All I hear now is pain. “I was always overwhelmed with guilt knowing I was failing her. The life I taught you boys to live,” he shakes his head, tilting his head upwards to look at the ceiling. I’ve never seen him like this, not in my 33 years. He must think about his sister too from time to time. We’ve never asked how her death made him feel, how it must have shocked him. Did he hate their parents for not protecting her enough? Did he hate himself for listening to them and staying away from her? Did he ever think of forgiving himself? “She wouldn’t have approved of it. But I am happy. You’ve found yourselves a good woman, and you’re going to live a better life from now on.” “Uncle…” “You leave the dirty work to me, boys.” He looks around, taking in the sight of every one of us like it’s the last time he’ll ever see our faces. “You never have to worry about blood on your hands again, I’ll handle it.” “That doesn’t make us any better.” The words leave my lips like a whisper, a reluctant one, but he hears it. When his smile returns, it’s with the same pain evident in his voice. “I hope it does.” “We also wanted to tell you, uncle. She’s pregnant.” Alright, maybe I didn’t see that one coming. We would have told him, definitely, but the way Ronan drops the bomb right now, could send my uncle into cardiac arrest. Uncle Abel whips his head in Ronan’s direction, so I do not see the look on his face when he says. “Oh.” His throat bobs. “Really?” Ronan nods, and he chuckles. From the right corner of his face, I see a single drop of tear rush down his cheek. He blinks, cutting the strand short. “That’s…that’s amazing, boys.” He turns to me, and it’s pure joy on his face. It seems I underestimated him. “I should meet her. What are you boys waiting for? You’re going to have a family, you should do the right thing.” “We have plans for that, uncle.” I reply. We don’t tell him she lost one child, and that it was all our fault. We have the rest of our lives to torture ourselves for that one thing, the one lie we told that almost cost us everything. It wouldn’t hurt to sit in this moment and bask in our joy. “Is it before or after you handle her ex-husband?” I blink thrice, shocked by his statement. “Uhmm…” Ronan chuckles nervously. “He is in jail. He would be there for life.”“Oh.” That damned exclamation again. Uncle Abel shifts in his seat. “You must have not seen the news then. I thought as much.” He scratches his forehead in thought. “ I was going to call you three after doing extensive research on her. I mean, I know she’s your best friend’s little sister, but I knew very little about her. That’s when I saw it.” My pulses ring in my ears, almost drowning out the sound of everything else—including my damned heartbeat. “Uncle?” Jaxon probes. “What…what is it?” He sucks in a deep breath, and his eyes examine all three of us slowly, with pity, before he says. “He only got eight years. I watched clips of the court proceedings. It was a pretty public case.” Ronan frowns. “Sarah shut herself off from it, and with good reason. So we did too.” Uncle nods. “I see.” “What do you mean he only got eight years?” Apparently, no one else found it absurd, because they didn’t bother to ask. “Malachi…” “Had a pretty good lawyer.” “To hell with that.” Jaxon springs to his feet. “He shouldn’t step foot into the world again. Do they even know what he did to her? All the abuse she had to suffer?” “She didn’t testify now, did she?” Fuck. My hands curl into fists so tight, my nails pierce the thick skin of my palms. “She never wanted to see his face again, not even in court. She doesn’t have to suffer for that singular choice. We know Sarah, she’ll never be happy knowing he’s going to one day be a free man.” “She doesn’t have to know.” “We’ve made a promise not to keep anything from her. We have to tell her.”I agree with Jaxon. “That’s if she doesn’t know already.” I see it in Ronan’s eyes, the fear, the worry. “Shit.” He rises to his feet. “We have to go.” Without another word, Jaxon and Ronan turn on their heels and rush out of the room, leaving me standing there, unable to move. Stuck to the floor, heavy with the rage that burns in the pit of my stomach.” “You know you can say it, Malachi.” Uncle looks up at me, a knowing look in those keen eyes. If anyone can see me, the bitterness I constantly mask with a smile, smart jokes, and a very quick mouth, it’s Abel Langford. There’s no reason to hide, not from him. My throat tightens. “I want him dead, uncle.” When he leans back into his chair and exhales, I know it’s a sign of his approval and agreement. “Done.”