Page 105 of Brutal Knight

“Someone in his organization will step up to take the lead. We’ll have to keep an eye on them. They won’t take kindly to their old leader being killed.”

“Neither will some of the Assembly,” Finn interjects, his tone dry. “We’re already in the shit with them. But we can’t avoid telling them. They need to be warned. This trouble may not be over.”

There’s a twinge of regret in my chest at the reminder that this will cause us trouble. It will cause my family trouble.

I knew this going in. We all knew this. We came knowing the risk that we’d likely kill Edward, and that the fallout wouldn’t be good. But the alternative was leaving Willow, and that was never an option.

Things won’t be easy from here. The Assembly will be unhappy about our fight with Edward, and Edward’s men will be angry. Some might even court the idea of revenge.

But we’ll deal with that if it happens. Together.

Finn nods, the motion final, and he turns away. Jamie follows close behind him. Aiden and Tristan make their way to the rest of the warehouse, to Edward’s men that lay scattered on the ground.

Lachlan is the only one left, standing across from me.

I half wonder if he’ll berate me. I don’t know what I’d say if he did. I don’t think he needs to hear what I would say. I think he knows.

He knows as well as the others that I would have done anything to get Willow back. I would have gone in alone if I needed to. Just like before, I would have offered to take all the blame, to go on the run. I was ready to give everything up.

I’ve never really acknowledged it. But now, standing beside Willow, knowing what I could have lost—I know I’d give everything up.

If I’d had to take on Edward myself and take all the blame, I would have accepted my fate. If my brothers had decided to put the rest of the family above me and refused to come, I would have taken their decision with grace. I would have come alone to get the job done, and then I would have taken Willow and run.

Nothing would have mattered to me but her. So long as I found her, so long as she was safe, I could stand losing everything. I could stand giving up the life I’d fought for, the position I’d tried to prove myself in for years.

But it never came to that. And it never did because of my brothers.

Lachlan’s hand rests on my shoulder, careful of my injury. “Get your woman home, Connor. And take care of yourself.”

I don’t move. For a long moment, I just look at my brothers, the men who were willing to give everything up just to help me. They stand to lose just as much as me—more, even. But they dropped everything and agreed to help when it came down to the wire.

I look at Lachlan and say, “Thank you.”

“We’ve got your back,” he replies quietly. “Always. You know that.”

“Always,” Aiden echoes as he passes me, his hand landing on my arm for a moment as he walks by.

The others say the same too, nodding their assent. I’ve heard this kind of talk before, but never before has it felt so real.

I’ve never been able to shake reality from my mind. I’ve never been able to shake the reminder that I was adopted. It was always there, always lingering at the back of my mind. It was a truth that made me feel less than them, unworthy in some way.

After all I’ve done for the family, all we’ve been through, I know it’s not true. I’m not just an adopted son, not just someone they’ll support if it benefits them. My brothers came to help me today, and they did it without hesitation. They did it because I am one of them.

“Go,” Lachlan repeats. “We’ll talk later.”

I nod. I can’t get into this now, can’t explain to all of them just how much this means to me. There’s time later, and right now, I have to take care of Willow.

We’re silent on the drive back. I know what happened tonight would be too much for anyone, even in normal circumstances. The past twenty-four hours has been nothing but chaos—the shooting, Willow’s kidnapping. Only hours ago, neither of us knew if the other was still alive.

She doesn’t let go of my hand the entire way.

The house is silent when we return. The air feels too still, too dead. When I click the lights on, it sounds like the brittle snap of a bone.

Willow stands in the doorway, unmoving. It’s like she isn’t sure what to do, or maybe she doesn’t have the energy to decide. I carefully take her by the hand to the shower, still not speaking yet.

We’re both exhausted and my shoulder still burns, still sends pain through my arm. I ignore it and focus on her, carefully stripping her clothes off. I throw them as far away from us as I can, off into a corner where I’ll find them later and throw them out. She doesn’t need a reminder.

The bathroom is already beginning to fill with a thin haze of steam. Willow stares at the mirror, at herself, but I’m not sure she’s really looking. Maybe she’s seeing right through it, remembering the warehouse.

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