Chapter 2 Chapter 2

The silence lasted only a few seconds, but it felt longer. Nobody rushed to explain, or laughed off what Reif had said. Nobody even looked surprised. The entire compound seemed frozen around us.

Reif scrubbed both hands over his face and turned away, his boots dragging through the dirt. The movement caught my attention immediately. A minute ago he'd looked furious, but now he looked tired, the kind of tired that settled into a person's bones after carrying something too long.

"Reif," I called out, my voice cracking under the tension.

His shoulders stiffened. He stopped walking but didn't turn around to face me. "What are you talking about?" I asked.

The question hung there, waiting, nobody answered. I looked toward Torin, my chest aching. Blood still lingered at the corner of his mouth from the punch. He hadn't wiped it away, hadn't acknowledged it, and hadn't done much of anything except stand there looking like a man who already knew how this conversation ended.

"Torin," I pressed, taking a step toward him.

His gaze found mine, his eyes fixing on my face. For a second I saw something there that made my stomach tighten: regret. Then it was gone, hidden behind his usual mask of control.

"Marlowe..." he started, his voice dropping into a low rumble.

I shook my head sharply. "No." The word slipped out before I could stop it, cutting him off. I didn't want my name; I wanted answers.

My gaze shifted toward Rook, my fingers curling. "Tell me what's going on."

Rook dragged a hand across his jaw and looked away toward the garages. The motion wasn't dramatic, and it didn't need to be. Rook had always looked me in the eye…always. The fact that he couldn't now told me more than anything he might have said. The realization landed like a punch, and I had to draw a slow, shallow breath.

Ginger pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a huff. Burdock stared out toward the road beyond the compound gates. Nobody seemed eager to speak, and nobody seemed eager to leave either. It felt like they were all waiting for someone else to go first.

A humorless laugh escaped me. "You've got to be kidding." The sound drew several pairs of eyes toward me. Good. Let them look. Apparently everyone here had already been included in whatever nightmare this was. "How many people know...whatever this is? Because for some reason, I'm getting the feeling I'm the last to know that something has been kept from me," I stated, looking around the group.

Again, silence. The hesitation was answer enough to break my composure. My pulse kicked harder. I looked at Ginger, my chin lifting. She sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. I looked at Burdock. He rubbed a hand over his beard and stared at the ground. Then I looked at Rook; he wouldn't meet my eyes.

The hurt that followed caught me off guard, slicing straight through my anger. Rook was capable of keeping a secret when he needed to, but if he'd spent seven months carrying this one, then whatever they were hiding wasn't small.

A memory surfaced, hitting me out of nowhere. Three months ago, I'd walked into the clubhouse kitchen and found Ginger, Rook, and Reif sitting at one of the tables. The second I stepped through the doorway, the conversation died instantly. At the time, Ginger had claimed they were discussing club business. Club business my ass.

Another memory followed immediately. I remembered Reif leaving the room one night when I'd asked him a question about his mother. He'd looked uncomfortable, mumbled something about needing air, and disappeared outside before I could ask a follow-up. At the time I'd thought he simply didn't like talking about Sobain. Now? I wasn't so sure. The pieces weren't fitting together yet, but they were there, scattered around my feet, waiting for somebody to force them into place.

I turned toward Reif, my jaw tightening. The kid looked miserable. His eyes were red, his jaw clenched, and every muscle in his body seemed pulled tight under his jacket. Whatever was happening had hurt him too. That realization slowed some of my anger, not much, but just enough to make me look closer.

"What does this have to do with, Reif?" I asked, the question settling over the yard.

Rook dropped his gaze to his boots. Ginger muttered a curse beneath her breath, her shoulders sagging. Burdock closed his eyes briefly. The reactions came so quickly that my stomach twisted into a knot.

I looked directly at Torin. He wasn't looking at me anymore; he was looking at Reif, watching him and waiting. The sight made something click in my mind. This wasn't just Torin's secret; it belonged to Reif too.

"Tell me," I said, my voice dropping.

Reif swallowed hard, his throat working. He looked trapped. His gaze bounced toward Torin, then Rook, before settling on me again. For the first time since this started, I noticed fear. Reif looked like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, fully aware there was no way back once he took the next step.

"Reif," I repeated, my posture rigid.

His throat worked again as he shifted his boots in the dirt. "Tell me," I demanded.

"Marlowe," Torin said quietly, reaching out a hand toward my arm.

I spun toward him, slapping his hand away. "No."

His expression tightened, his jaw locking. "I need a minute."

A bitter laugh escaped me, the sound sharp. "A minute?" The words came out sharper than I intended, cutting through the damp air. "You've had seven months."

Torin lowered his head, his shoulders dropping. Rook closed his eyes. Even Ginger looked away toward the fence line.

Seven months. The number kept surfacing, burning behind my eyelids. Seven months of dinners, seven months of conversations, and seven months of everyone standing around pretending nothing had changed. I looked from Torin to Reif, my patience snapping completely.

"Dammit, Reif! Tell me!" I hissed, my hands curling into fists at my sides as I stepped toward him.

Reif dragged both hands through his hair and looked toward the gray sky for a second, exhaling. When his gaze dropped again, his eyes were bright with unshed tears. He looked at Torin, then Rook, then finally locked his gaze on me.

"I'm your brother," he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper over the wind.

The words didn't register. They couldn't. My brain heard them, understood the individual words, and put them together, yet somehow they still made no sense. The compound seemed to disappear around me; the garages, the motorcycles, everything.

Reif swallowed hard, taking a step closer until he was right in front of me. "I'm your brother, Marlowe," he repeated.