Page 52 of Making Choices

Once we’ve verified our identities, we head over to the room that bears the number we were given and the door opens. Slash steps out. He greets Toker with one of their handshake come back slap then hug combinations, then regards me with a blank stare.

“How’s your—” I begin to ask about his day, but he cuts me off.

“Cherub,” he says in a strangled tone. Toker clears his throat and Slash diverts his gaze to the floor and mumbles, “I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Without so much as a glance my way, he strides off in the direction Toker and I just came. I watch him go, confusion lashing my chest and squeezing it tight. When I glance at Toker, ready to ask him if Slash is all right, my eyebrows draw together at what I find.

My cousin seems pleased that Slash cut me cold.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I push down the questions that buzz around my head and ignore the pang in my chest from Slash being rude to me for the third time in a week. Whatever bug he has up his butt will either sort itself out or we’ll end up in a rip-roaring argument. Either way, I need to concentrate on the reason I’m here.

To see my younger brother.

The brother who was kidnapped and tortured because of me.

“Heya,” I murmur once I’m inside Fret’s room. He’s lying in the hospital bed with his legs elevated and bandages wrapped around every part of him. Despite the obvious damage, I’m happy to discover that he looks healthy and alert. “I’m so sor—”

“Cherub,” Fret cuts me off. After scanning my face, he grimaces. I touch my bruised cheek and prod my busted lip with my tongue, then shrug. My brother scowls at me. “Don’t you dare apologise.”

“Wasn’t going to,” I tell him.

“You’re a liar.”

Despite the guilt that’s making my stomach churn, I smile at his terse retort. “There’s no beating around the bush with you.”

“Fuck no.” Fret matches my smile with a deadly smirk that freezes the blood in my veins. “Especially not after I’ve discovered that my own father set me up.”

“What?” I ask as Toker exclaims, “Fuck me dead!”

“Yeah,” my brother tells us. He slowly and awkwardly pats the mattress next to him with the arm that’s not restricted by a sling. “Come sit with me, little sis, I’ve got some new information that you need to know.”

13

SLASH

One week later

Through the crack I’ve made between the door and the door frame, I listen to Cherub discuss Fret’s recovery with his doctor. I can tell by the voices that she’s talking to the new doctor in charge of Fret’s recovery now Jack is off on leave. She sounds worried, a little agitated with the lack of answers she’s receiving about her brother, and my feet itch with the need to reveal myself so I can help her gather the information she needs. Any other time, I wouldn’t hesitate, yet I know that it’s best if I keep ignoring her.

Venom’s not coping with their separation.

He’s unravelling in front of my eyes which means my conscience won’t let up.

And neither will my brothers.

Toker’s made it clear that he’s happy to sacrifice me to Venom’s temper if I so much as look at his cousin the wrong way. Hunter and Cub are barely speaking to me, and Sander has also bailed me up to give me a piece of his mind. After tearing strips off me for being, “so damn stupid as to believe Cherub would even look my way,” he verbalised his assessment of my chances with his sister.

Apparently, they are somewhere between Buckley’s and none.

The only time I find a semblance of normality is with Fret.

During the day, I dodge my brothers and their censure.

At night, I hide in Fret’s room.

It’s my sole reprieve from my self-inflicted purgatory.

Fortunately, I’ve managed to duck out of sight every time Bebe has made her rounds so I haven’t had to beg off when she demands I drop to my knees and reciprocate.

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