Page 37 of Silent Oaths
Iturn to him. “What?”
Hisgaze locks on the house, his pupils blown wide. “We’veseen this before.”
Ifrown. “Whatare you talking about?”
Julianswallows, glancing over his shoulder, as if checking to make sure no one is listening. “Thebook,” he says. “Theone from the library.TheLostHistoriesofVanguard.”
Thename alone makes my stomach tighten.It’sone of the only books in the orphanage worth reading, filled with old accounts of the town’s founding families, stories of power, bloodlines, and the legacy of the elite.Andamong the brittle pages, there was a photograph…
Iturn back to the mansion, eyes scanning the arched windows, the ivy creeping up the stone, the sprawling balconies.Achill settles in my bones.
“Shit,”Imutter under my breath. “You’reright.”
Julian’sgrip on my wrist tightens before he finally lets go. “Thismansion isn’t just some founding family’s heirloom,” he whispers. “It’stheirhouse.”
15
THEODORE
Iwalk down the corridor, my steps nearly silent against the polished floor.
Alot has changed since we arrived at theWhitmoreestate.Monthshave passed, and the shock of our new life has dulled.Maxwell,Julian, andIaren’t just boys who were adopted into wealth.WeareWhitmoresnow.Brothers.
Istop in front ofMaxwell’sroom and rap my knuckles against the wood.
“Maxwell,”Icall. “Openup.”
Iknock again, harder this time. “Maxwell.”
Silence.
Then,Ihear shuffling and the creak of the mattress.
Whatis he up to?
Inarrow my eyes, already suspicious, and reach for the door, twisting the handle and stepping inside.
WhatIsee stops me in my tracks.
Julianis sprawled out onMaxwell’sbed, half-buried under the blankets, completely unbothered.Whatreally catches my attention is the massive lump under the covers beside him.BeforeIcan even open my mouth,Maxwell’shead suddenly pops out from beneath the sheets, his tousled black hair a mess, a wicked grin stretched across his face in a way that tells meI’vewalked in on somethingIshouldn’t have.
“Hey, brother,”Maxwellsnickers.
Iblink.
Julianlets out a breath and shovesMaxwell’shead away with one hand, muttering, “Idioto.”
Istare at them, my lips parting. “Whatthe actual fuck do you two do whenI’mnot around?”Myvoice rises a little, my fingers pressing into the doorframe. “WhyamIalwayscatching you in thesecompromisedpositions?”
Maxwellbursts out laughing and kicks the blanket off, revealing himself in nothing but a pair of briefs, his lean form on full display.
JesusfuckingChrist.
Theoutline of his hard-on is still visible, straining against the fabric.
Iimmediately scowl, but my traitorous eyes dart down for half a second beforeIsnap my gaze back up.Maxwellnotices.
Thebastard grins wider.
