Rogue - Jericho's Boys #2 - Revised Chapter's 1-4 (Patreon)

I've gone through and done some major edits to the first four chapters so far. I've essentially added 1.5 new chapters so basically the second half of three and a whole new chapter 4. All unedited. But you get a gaming session and you all get to meet the mysterious Mal. This is as always unbeta'd and unedited. But I hope you enjoy. Chapter 1LeviLevi didn’t notice the ruckus at first; he was distracted by his mother. Naomi. The only person who would dare call and ask for a favor at three in the morning on a Sunday. He sat on the stool behind the counter of the store, feet propped up on the shelf just underneath, phone in hand. He picked at one of hundreds of stickers on the counter, doing his best to distract himself from the same tedious conversation. Flickering shadows danced over the ancient formica countertop from the shuddering fluorescent lights overhead, giving the whole place a ‘90s horror movie vibe that Levi had grown accustomed to over the years.Nights like tonight, his life seemed like a horror movie, the hum of the coolers, the soundtrack. Some nightmarish version of Groundhog Day where he was destined to have the same pathetic conversation again and again with the scent of overcooked hot dogs and stale coffee in his nose.“Are you even listening?” Naomi slurred, words so sloppy he only understood them because he’d heard them before.She had forsaken the English language decades ago for some borderline incomprehensible hybrid speech that the average person couldn’t parse together with even the best translation app. But, unfortunately for Levi, he was an expert. Not that he had any choice. He’d been taking care of Naomi since he was barely old enough to take care of himself.  “I can’t talk. I’m at work. Call me tomorrow. When you’re sober.”Naomi couldn’t do that. Naomi was never sober. And they both knew it. She was either getting drunk, already drunk, or unconscious. Levi had hoped, at this time of the morning, she’d have succumbed to option three and he could have had a bit of peace for the last two hours of his shift, but she always seemed to know just how to ruin his night.“I’m perfect’y saw-saw-so-ber,” she finally managed, just as something hit the floor.  It wasn’t heavy enough to be her body, so he ignored it. He even contemplated hanging up. Nothing good came from talking to her when she was this far gone.“Naomi—”“That’s the problem,” she said, cutting him off. “I jus’ need you to bring some beer on your way home from work and drop it by the house. You get off soon, right?”Levi rolled his eyes. She couldn’t remember his birthday, his graduation or Christmas, but, somehow, she had his work schedule memorized.He didn’t want to bring her booze, he wanted to go home and get some sleep. But what he wanted didn’t matter. She had passed the point of no return long ago. She couldn’t function without alcohol. Literally. She sweated beer. If she didn’t wake up and drink in the middle of the night, she’d have a seizure. After years of abuse, her body needed alcohol like most people needed water. If she didn’t get it, she would fall into a coma and die. Part of him wished he could just let that happen. Maybe they’d both be better for it.He sighed, pushing dark hair from his forehead only for it to flop into his eyes once more. “I’ll stop by tomorrow—”“Oh, thank you, baby,” she crooned.“—afternoon,” he finished. “After I wake up. You’ll be fine until then.”She always had more booze stashed somewhere. She would never let herself run completely out before calling him.He started counting to ten, waiting for his words to penetrate the fog of her inebriation. He reached seven before she started shouting, “You ungrateful little shit. I fed you. I clothed you. I worked day and night to take care of you. Not your father. Me. You’re such a big fucking mistake. I should have ab—”“Night, Mom,” he said, cutting off her rant before she really got started.He hung up, then put his phone on silent.He only called her Mom when she was re-writing history. In her beer-soaked brain, she’d been mother of the year. She had given him clothes and food and a roof over his head. But none of that was true. The clothes had been hand-me-downs from neighbors who took pity on him. The food was from the church or stolen or, sometimes, even straight from the dumpsters behind restaurants and supermarkets. She had kept a roof over his head, he’d give her that, but he’d paid the rent with his pain and suffering.But she’d never admit to that.He shook his head, then sighed. Her words didn’t even hurt anymore. He was numb to it. He’d spent years wondering what he’d done wrong, why she hated him, what he could change to make her love him. Then he’d met Jericho and everything changed. He understood what a real parent was like, even though Jericho was practically a kid himself. After that, he no longer yearned for a mom who would bake for him and kiss his forehead and read him bedtime stories.Now, he just wanted her to die.Except, he didn’t. Not really.  If he did, he would just ignore her. He wouldn’t spend what little money he had on food for her or booze or anything else she needed to survive in that tiny, dirty apartment she called home.He dropped his phone on the counter with more force than necessary, watching it slide towards the edge precariously then stop just before toppling over.He rubbed his face with both hands. Two more hours.  He just had to make it through two more hours and then he could go home and sleep and then game. There was still a battle they had to win and their schedules would finally sync up this afternoon. He didn’t have class until two on Tuesday and he’d finished his project last week. That meant he could stream and maybe make some extra cash playing Paladin with his friends.A smile played at his lips as he thought about his bed. He longed for a deep, dreamless sleep. It had been so long.He was fantasizing about that sleep when his gaze slid out the window,catching on movement outside. He frowned. It was usually a ghost town by this time with only the occasional night crawler wandering around, usually in search of drugs or sex. But tonight, there were two people just outside his store, perfectly framed between the ATM sign and the Pepsi ad.Though the lighting inside was terrible, outside was searchlight-bright and the two were dead center, like the leads in a play, the sidewalk their stage. They were facing each other, leaving Levi with only their profiles. The smaller guy had soft-looking brown curls and a perfect jawline. Even without seeing his whole face, Levi knew he was probably very pretty.The other man was not.Well, looks wise, Levi supposed he was conventionally attractive, but his personality was ugly. He was shoving at the other boy, poking him in the chest, yelling and gesturing towards the double doors of the store.Levi fucking hated bullies.He watched, transfixed, as the pretty boy frantically shook his head, his features twisting into what looked like some kind of plea even from Levi’s limited view. His words clearly fell on deaf ears. The man grabbed him by his oversized yellow hoodie then slapped him hard across the face once, then again, the second blow landing hard enough to wrench the boy’s head to the side, causing Levi’s gaze to crash into his.He had sad eyes. Levi couldn’t make out the color, but he could see the dread in them, the hollowness, the resignation. Levi knew it well. He’d seen it in the mirror most mornings. It spurred something in him, this sort of deep-seated rage that simmered just beneath his skin. He hated bullies. He hated people who used their size or money or influence to force their will on someone else. It made him want to hurt someone.As he watched, the kid wiped the blood from his nose. Was this a lover’s quarrel? Domestic abuse? The thought of them as a couple turned his stomach, but the kid wasn’t any trick Levi had ever seen around. And the older guy certainly didn’t run any pros in this area. Jericho wouldn’t allow it. If people wanted to sell their bodies, they did it on their own terms. No pimps allowed.Levi wanted to interject. He wanted to jump up and put himself between the soft boy and this much bigger guy, but he knew it would only make it worse for the kid if they were in a relationship. Eventually, he’d have to go home and Levi knew with a sick sense of certainty that the next beating would be ten times worse. The boy seemed to know it, too.He was obviously used to being this guy’s punching bag. He hadn’t defended himself, hadn’t blocked the blows. He hadn’t even flinched away from it. He just stood there and let the man hit him in the face. Twice.The man shoved the kid towards the double doors again, this time slapping him on the back of the head as he pointed aggressively. Levi’s stomach sloshed as he realized what was about to happen. He took in the boy's oversized hoodie, the reluctant expression. Levi knew it well, had seen it a dozen times. That piece of shit was sending that poor kid in there to rob the place.Christ, he hated this job.Levi looked around at the four cameras—two on his left side facing the doors and two directly in front of him above the coolers on the back wall. There was no way this boy wouldn’t get caught. They always got caught. For nothing. There was never more than a hundred bucks in the till, tops, even on weekends. Sometimes, Levi wondered if people just wanted to go to jail for a safe place to sleep for the night. It was the only thing that made sense. Desperation bred creativity.The bell dinged as the boy pulled open the door and stepped inside, his hood now up. There was a smear of blood on his cheek, which was already an angry red and starting to swell. The boy’s gaze jerked to him, then away, before he stepped into an aisle where he probably thought Levi couldn’t see him.But he could. The camera monitors were on the second shelf out of view from customers but directly in front of Levi. He could look all he wanted. Now that the boy was closer, Levi could see he wasn’t as young as he’d thought, maybe Levi’s age—possibly a year or two younger, but not a kid.Levi’s reluctant thief was cute in that teen heartthrob kind of way. His chocolate curls were springy and hung in his eyes. He had golden skin, full lips, and a mole that sat just to the right side of his frowning mouth. Even with the swelling, he was still pretty, almost…feminine.Levi sighed. He really didn’t want to send someone that cute to jail. He wouldn’t last long there. Maybe he could bribe him with whatever money he had? He’d done it before. Usually, only with the unhoused. It was hard to get tweakers to focus long enough to take a deal.The boy didn’t look like the typical addict, but he was growing agitated with each passing second. He had his hands in his pockets and he was pacing, talking to himself. Was he giving himself a pep talk? Trying to convince himself he could rob the place?Levi looked outside, but the real culprit was gone. Of course, he was. What kind of chicken shit let someone else do their dirty work for them? The kind that beat the shit out of someone outside a convenience store in the middle of the night, clearly.Levi shook his head, his gaze dropping back to the cameras. Unease trickled down his spine like icy water as he saw the boy pull something from his pocket. It was still obscured by his side, but Levi knew it was a weapon.Luckily, the cameras didn’t.While there were four cameras, the back right camera had been down for months, and despite the frequency with which they were robbed, Levi’s cheapskate boss hadn’t felt any sense of urgency about getting it repaired.The cameras had never been the deterrent the owner thought they’d be when he installed them. If anything, all they did was help the cops and the insurance company when he filed his many, many claims. At this rate, he likely made more off the insurance money than the actual store itself. He’d told Levi a dozen times that there was no point throwing good money after bad.Levi’s heart tripped as the boy seemed to come to some internal decision, finally stepping free from the aisle, a gun in his right hand. His very shaky right hand. He was sweating. Rivulets rolled from his hairline, joining the tears that already stained his cheeks. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, like he’d spent too much of his night crying.Levi dropped his feet to the ground, then stood slowly. He didn’t want to spook the kid. He didn’t reach for the shotgun leaning against the wall or the panic button beneath the counter. Instead, he fixed the kid with a patient look and said, “Look, I know you don’t want to rob the place. How about I just give you fifty bucks and you go tell that piece of shit who sent you in here that it was all the money in the till? Deal?”The boy blinked at him, voice dull as he asked, “What?”Levi smiled, lifting his hands in the air. “I said, you don’t have to do this. You’re going to end up in jail, and for what? Some loser guy who sent you to do his dirty work for him? You’re way too cute for that shit. If that’s your boyfriend, you need to dump him.”“He’s my brother,” he muttered, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.“Oh,” Levi said. Nobody understood fucked-up family dynamics better than him. “Still, just take the money. I won’t call the cops. I promise there’s not much more in the register.”Take the deal.Others had done it. This boy just needed to do it, too.The boy stumbled closer. “I’m not here for money,” he said, his voice taking on a sharp edge, like he was trying to sound tough. Instead, he sounded strained, like he was seconds away from cracking.“Then what are you here for?” Levi asked, keeping his tone as soft as possible with his heart hammering against his ribcage. Levi was starting to sweat, too.He could handle a thief, but a murderer? Was this some kind of gang initiation? If it was, Levi was fucked. He didn’t want to kill this kid.“Your brother wants me dead?” Levi asked.It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. When Levi wasn’t in school or working at this shitty store, he was killing people. Bad people like this kid’s brother. His own version of community service—something he’d been doing so long, he’d forgotten there were people in the world who might object. Like the family of someone he killed.Usually, those family members kept their grief to themselves before they ended up becoming the next name on a list. But not always.The boy blinked sweat from his eyes, looking a little disoriented. How hard had that asshole hit him? He still hadn’t raised the gun. That was good. He was doing this under duress. There was no part of this kid that wanted to do this. It was clear he was just following orders.“Hey, look at me. Talk to me,” Levi said, snapping his fingers to get the boy’s attention. “Your brother wants me dead?”He gave a jerky nod, blurting out, “Y-Yes. He wants you dead.”“Why?”“To-to send a message,” the boy mumbled. “To let your boss know he’s running things now.”“My…boss?” Levi said, frowning.There was no way he was talking about the owner of the store. Nobody was sending Mr. Mendel a message by killing Levi. He had to be talking about Jericho. It was common knowledge that Levi was one of Jericho’s boys and that they routinely took out people in the community who took advantage of others. But nobody had ever been ballsy enough to challenge Jericho directly.“The mechanic,” he clarified. “The one who took out the 4Loco gang.”Levi frowned, trying to follow the boy’s words. “Your brother was 4Loco? He’s a little late to the party. We took them out months ago.”The boy shook his head, hand flexing around the metal grip of the gun. A Browning .9 mm. “No. Look, just—I’m—I’m really sorry, but if I don’t do this, he’ll kill me, too,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.Levi didn’t know how to help him. “What’s your name?” he heard himself ask.“Shiloh,” the boy said, eyes going wide as soon as he said it, the color draining from his face.“There are cameras everywhere, Shiloh,” Levi finally admitted, pointing to them vaguely.Shiloh’s nod was jerky, his lip quivering. “I know. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care what happens to me. He’s fucking crazy. He already framed my other brother for murder. I guess I’m next.”It was hard to believe there was a family member out there worse than Naomi, but it sounded like this kid’s brother was coming to take the title. Levi could see how much he was suffering, could smell his fear, could see the dread pulling down the corners of his mouth.Shiloh stumbled forward until he was a little less than an arm’s length away, finger twitching on the trigger but gun still at his side.Levi’s gaze dropped to the shotgun once more, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach for it. He didn’t want to kill this kid. But he also didn’t want to die. Or have this kid go to jail.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.“If you raise that gun, I can’t help you anymore, Shiloh. Right now, the cameras just think we’re having a real intense conversation about the weather, but the second you raise your hand, shit gets real. If you kill me, your brother will be the least of your problems because my brothers will not stop until they get revenge.”Please, don’t do it. Just run. Go. Get out of here.A frustrated sob broke from Shiloh’s lips, his face twisting into a look so hopeless it broke Levi’s heart. “Nobody can help me,” he said, voice cracking.Then it happened.Shiloh swung his arm up, leveling the gun an inch from Levi’s nose. It was a rookie mistake, one that would have gotten anyone else a bullet to the skull. But Levi wasn’t thinking about revenge, he was thinking about this sad boy and his sad eyes.He grabbed Shiloh’s wrist, yanking him forward, obscuring the gun from the camera’s view. Shiloh cried out in surprise, staring at him with wild eyes. Pretty eyes. Honey brown eyes with flecks of green in them. He struggled in Levi’s grip, lips parted, his face close enough for Levi to feel his breath panting against his face.If he didn’t relax, he was going to hurt himself or Levi. But he was too far gone, clearly lost in a fog of panic.Levi didn’t know why he did it. It wasn’t a conscious choice. But he did. With his free hand, he snagged Shiloh by his hoodie and dragged him that last inch, crashing their mouths together. Shiloh went rigid against him, his startled cry vibrating against Levi’s lips in a way that shot lightning through his blood.Levi tried to rationalize his actions. It was better Mr. Mendel thought Levi was making out with his boyfriend rather than thinking Shiloh was a potential murderer. But it was a lie. He’d just wanted to know what he tasted like and had wanted to see him flustered over something good.Shiloh’s lips were soft and tasted like something almost citrusy. He smelled faintly of sweat and coconut. Levi couldn’t get enough.But Shiloh was making these sort of keening noises as he fought Levi’s grip, and as much as it was turning Levi on, he knew he had to let him go. He didn’t want to be someone else who assaulted him, no matter how altruistic his intentions.But then something happened. Shiloh’s mouth softened, his lips parting, a tiny whine escaping that went straight to Levi’s now half-hard cock. He could have stopped it right then. He could have slipped the gun from his hand and pushed him away, sending him back to his shithead brother.Instead, he gripped Shiloh’s chin between thumb and forefinger, tugging his mouth open wider before slipping his tongue inside. Once more, Shiloh made this helpless sound, but, this time, Levi just swallowed it down, deepening the kiss, groaning when the boy melted against him.Fuck, he tasted so sweet and he was so submissive, letting Levi take what he wanted. Which was dangerous. No matter how much Shiloh gave, Levi wanted more. He wanted to drag him over the counter and sit him in his lap and show him a much better way to spend his night. He wanted to take him back to his apartment, strip him down and see what buttons he could do to keep making those whiny, helpless sounds.It took him longer than it should have to register that something was vibrating between them. The gun slipped from Shiloh’s fingers, clattering to the floor, then he began struggling against Levi once more, harder this time. Levi reluctantly let him go, taking a step back. Shiloh’s lips were pink and his face flushed. He looked…debauched. Was that a word? He thought it was a word, one from his mother’s worn romance novels with bare chested pirates holding women with dresses falling off their shoulders.Shiloh’s miserable gaze fell to his phone, apprehension tugging at his features, making him look somehow both older and younger at the same time. Levi wanted to help him, wanted to tell him not to go, that he would protect him, take care of him. But that was fucking insane.“He’s going to kill me now,” Shiloh whispered, almost to himself. Then his gaze flicked to Levi, his expression bleak. “I’m…I’m really sorry. About all of it. I didn’t want to do it.”Before Levi could formulate any kind of coherent thought, Shiloh was turning on his heel, hurrying out the doors and into the night.“Wait!” he shouted, but the boy was already gone.Levi stared after him for a long moment, lips tingling, dick hard, a gun at his feet. All because he’d kissed the boy sent to kill him. And now, that boy was going to die.Because of Levi.He couldn’t let that happen. He hopped over the counter, bolting out the doors, looking up and down the street. But Shiloh was gone.Had he ducked into an alley? Had his brother been waiting there for him?Fear sloshed in Levi’s gut. He didn’t know what to do. He gave one last look, then walked back into the store. He retrieved the gun, noting that the safety was still on. Christ, why would his brother send someone so unqualified to do this job, especially if it was to send a message? He pocketed the weapon and grabbed his phone, already knowing he was about to get an earful.Jericho answered on the third ring, voice a low rumble as he said, “What’s wrong?”“I need your help.”Chapter 2Shiloh“So, you didn’t kill him…and you lost my gun?”To anyone who didn’t know Shiloh’s brother, they would think he was perfectly calm. Mildly amused, even. But those in the room—especially Shiloh—knew that beneath the barely-there smile and soft words was an explosive temper and a capacity for incomprehensible cruelty.“Micah—” Shiloh started.“Ah, ah, ah,” Micah said, waggling his finger at him from where he sat at the head of the large table. “You speak when spoken to.”The others shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t their first time witnessing one of Shiloh’s punishments. Most of them had stood where he did at least once. Micah wasn’t singling Shiloh out. He did it to be fair. Anyone who disobeyed him, anyone who failed a mission—whatever that mission might be—would be punished accordingly.No exceptions.The only real difference between Shiloh and his brother’s douchebag henchmen was that Shiloh had been getting these punishments since birth and most of Micah’s crew had only been around for a few years. Not that Micah needed any of them. They were next to useless. As much as Shiloh hated to admit it, Micah was the mastermind of the operation. He was beyond smart. He was the reason they lived in this fancy house, had decent clothes, had food to eat. But none of it had been gained legally. Micah had his fingers in a lot of people’s pies, so many that even Shiloh didn’t truly understand what he did. Money laundering? Counterfeiting? Shiloh would likely never know. Micah said he was too stupid to understand.He was probably right. Shiloh felt stupid. He’d done okay in school until Micah had made him drop out. He said college was for losers. But Micah had gone to college. He even had a degree. He’d majored in business and minored in economics. All to become a better criminal.Shiloh wasn’t smart, but the idiots slouched around the large dining room table certainly weren’t geniuses. They were goons. An intimidation tactic. Micah didn’t need any of them, but he kept them around to look important. And probably to have people he could abuse anytime he liked.Shiloh didn’t get why they stayed. The money couldn’t be that good. Shiloh stayed because, every time he tried to leave, Micah had dragged him back and made him sorry. And last time, he’d punished Malachi for Shiloh’s sins.But these guys didn’t have to stay. They didn’t have to tolerate his abuse. Maybe they were afraid, too? They all looked bored but there was an undercurrent of fear. Shiloh could practically taste it.Micah was unpredictable, even on his good days.Shiloh dropped his gaze to the floor, his hands clasped behind his back, partially because his brother liked him submissive but mostly because he couldn’t stop trembling. And he refused to give them all a show.Shiloh squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes, sir,” he muttered. “Sorry, sir.”The others in the room snickered, then abruptly fell silent, most likely because Micah had turned his frigid gaze to them. They forgot themselves too often.That was what Micah would say anyway, usually while he was using Shiloh for target practice or forcing him to endure endless hours of reality television—his brother’s one bizarre vice. He called it stress relief. Shiloh called it torture. Sometimes, it was more painful than being hit in the ribs with a baseball. Or ten.Micah had little respect for the others in his crew, but that was still more than he had for Shiloh. He used to take it personally, had spent nights wondering why his own brother hated him so much, had even cried about it when he was little. It wasn’t until Malachi reminded Shiloh that Micah didn’t hate them that he stopped trying to make Micah love him. He couldn’t love them. Micah couldn’t anything them. To him, they weren’t even people. They were things, pawns, objects to move around, human dolls. Micah wasn’t capable of love or hatred. He was a true predator. That Mal and Shiloh were his favorite prey was nothing more than an accident of birth.Micah’s chair scraped back from the table, and a shock of fear arced through Shiloh, his heartbeat accelerating to a dangerous level. He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. He didn’t want Micah to think he was sighing at him.That would be…bad.Besides, his mouth was already painfully dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. His body ached from holding the same rigid posture. He needed to relax. It hurt more when he tensed up. But he could never seem to relay that information to whatever part of his brain controlled these things.So, instead, he quietly sent up a prayer that Micah would stick to his body this time. He really didn’t want to get hit in the face again; his nose was already throbbing and he honestly wasn’t sure what would happen if he got another concussion.His brother’s footsteps ambled slowly—lazily—towards him, and Shiloh’s apprehension built with each step that echoed off the tile floor. It felt like his insides were shaking. Was that even possible?Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.He sensed his brother standing before him but still didn’t open his eyes. If he did, he might be tempted to start begging and Micah had no tolerance for begging.So, he kept his eyes tightly shut, ignoring the goosebumps erupting along his whole body as the air conditioning blasted against his sweaty skin.He flinched as Micah’s hand cupped his cheek. “What am I going to do with you? Hmm?” he asked, voice deceptively fond. Shiloh knew better than to answer. It was a trap. It was always a trap. His stomach felt slippery as Micah traced a finger along his cheek. “Look at me, baby brother.”“Look at me. Talk to me.”That was what he’d said. Levi. At least, Shiloh thought that was his name. It was what was stitched on the pocket of the shirt he’d worn unbuttoned over a black tank top that showed off so much skin. Levi was a good name. A kind name.Or maybe Shiloh just hoped he was kind.At first glance, he’d looked like a bad guy, no different than the creeps sitting around the table or the ones beating the shit out of Mal in prison. It wasn’t his tattoos, though there’d been so many—too many to take in. Some on his neck, others on his fingers, several on just the small bit of his chest that had been visible to Shiloh.He’d also had numerous piercings. One in each brow, several in each ear. But none of that had caused Shiloh to think Levi might be as bad as Micah claimed. No, it had been his expression. Broody, guarded, full lips in a perpetual pout, dark hair parted down the middle and falling into those huge dark eyes. He also had two beauty marks, one on his right cheek and another just under the inner corner of his right eye.Yeah, he’d looked…not scary but certainly unapproachable. And that was before he’d known Shiloh was there to kill him. But despite his appearance, he’d talked to Shiloh with a soft voice. He’d studied him with more patience than he deserved. And that was when Shiloh had realized Levi wasn’t mean, he was guarded, his mouth in a constant perma-frown like the world was always disappointing him.Shiloh knew all about that. Maybe that was why kissing Levi had felt like home. His lips were still a little swollen, and if he thought about it hard enough, he could almost feel Levi’s mouth on his. He fought the urge to touch his lips.Levi had kissed him. He’d just grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him, like he couldn’t help himself, like he’d wanted his lips on Shiloh’s more than he’d wanted to live.And Shiloh had kissed back. He couldn’t stop himself from reciprocating and hadn’t really wanted to. Levi had kissed him and Shiloh’s brain had gone blissfully silent, leaving behind only sensation. Levi’s fingers on his jaw, his tongue sliding over Shiloh’s. He’d tasted like candy but he’d smelled like something spicy, something masculine and warm and safe.Shiloh had wanted to keep kissing him and would have probably let him do anything he wanted to him without hesitation. But he knew, deep down, someone like Levi would never look at someone like Shiloh. He was too weak, too feminine, too childish. He’d probably kissed Shiloh just for a chance to disarm him. And it worked. So good for Levi. He’d played him.Something twisted deep inside Shiloh. Life wasn’t a movie. People like Shiloh didn’t get to be happy. That was just the way the world worked. Micah said there were the haves and the have nots and Shiloh was destined to be a have not because he was too meek to take what he wanted.Shiloh didn’t understand why he had to take anything. Wasn’t there enough to go around? Why did Shiloh’s happiness have to come from someone else’s downfall? It didn’t make any sense. And now, Mal wasn’t even there to talk him through his confusion.Shiloh realized he’d gotten lost in his thoughts when Micah ground out, “Look. At. Me.”Shiloh raised his head reluctantly, staring up into pool-blue eyes. It was almost unimaginably barbaric that someone as evil as Micah had been given such an angelic face. And when he smiled, like he was now, it was hard to see what a depraved fucking monster he was. Nobody ever saw him coming until it was too late.“I just don’t get it,” he crooned. “It’s almost like you want me to hurt you. Is that it? Have you grown to like the pain, baby brother? Or maybe this is just attention seeking. Hmm?” He arched a brow. “Am I not giving you enough…attention?”Shiloh fought the bile rising in his throat. If he puked on Micah, he would most definitely kill him. But if Micah hit him in the stomach, he was most definitely going to throw up. And he didn’t want a repeat of last time. He couldn’t even bear to think about what Micah had made him do for punishment.All he could do was apologize and hope Micah went easy on him. Shiloh could handle almost any punishment. The belt, his fists, even the stick. Anything but the roof.“I’m really sorry,” Shiloh said, voice barely above a whisper. “I am. I-I don’t like disappointing you. I swear. I just…I tried. But he took the gun from me.” It was a lie, a blatant one, but he hoped Levi would forgive him for casting him as the bad guy just once if it meant a lesser punishment. “I was afraid he was going to shoot me or call the cops. So, I ran.”Micah shrugged. “Of course, you did. That’s what I get for thinking you were capable of one simple task. It’s like you hate me or something.”Shiloh shook his head frantically. “I don’t. I don’t. You’re my brother. I love you. You know—You know I’m not good at that stuff,” Shiloh finished.As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. He heard the others snicker, heard the sharp inhalation of his brother’s breath.“Oh,” Micah said, nodding. “I understand. You’re saying this is my fault?”“No.” Shiloh gasped, still shaking his head, even though he knew his brother was just toying with him. “Of course, n—”Micah picked up an unoccupied wooden chair with a roar, then brought it down hard on the table over and over again until it shattered. By the time he was finished, the chair was in pieces, only the leg in his hand. He was breathing hard, his eyes glittering with a malice that made Shiloh want to disappear.Despite everything, Shiloh didn’t see the blow coming. One minute, he was standing, the next, he was on his knees, fighting to pull air into his lungs. Micah had driven the chair leg into his solar plexus.Shiloh felt like he was drowning. Micah had knocked the wind out of him, but it felt like both his lungs were paralyzed, unwilling or unable to bring in much-needed oxygen.Micah’s face became serene once more, his plush lips rearranging themselves into a sneer. Shiloh watched as his brother caught his hair and pulled it back in a half pony-tail, securing it with an elastic around his wrist.Shiloh’s stomach dropped.Oh, God.“Please…” he said once he could breathe again. He couldn’t stop the shaking now, even though he knew it would only make Micah angrier. His teeth started to clack together like he was cold. It wasn’t the first time. Malachi said it was an adrenaline response.Micah’s face fell into a mock pout. “Oh, don’t look so glum. It’s not like I’m going to kill you.”Shiloh fucking wished he would. More than anything. But if he did, Malachi would be stuck in prison for life for a crime he didn’t commit. Because of Shiloh. Mal was the only thing that kept him going.He blinked back tears, willing whatever part of his brain controlled such things to just…not. Tears only made things worse. Micah raised his hand. Shiloh flinched, acid pooling in his stomach.Micah chuckled, yanking him to his feet, then gripped his chin roughly, shaking his head around. Levi had gripped his chin like that, too, but only to kiss him better. He tried to focus on that, tried to go somewhere in his head far away from his psychotic brother.“Where did I get such a weakling? Hmm?” Micah simpered, like he was talking to a baby. “Malachi was a fucking loon, but he was at least useful occasionally.”Shiloh wanted to shout, “Then why did you have him thrown in prison?” but knew no good would come of it. Shiloh knew why. Everybody did. Bringing it up again would only make things worse. This punishment was going to be bad enough already, and everyone knew that too. Micah was just drawing it out, psychologically torturing Shiloh before he physically tortured him.Micah sighed as if he was so put upon. “But you… I’ve never seen you do a single thing right. I don’t understand how we share the same gene pool. Hell, if I hadn’t watched you crawl out from between our whore mother’s legs, I would have thought she’d found you behind a dumpster. Maybe I should have just smothered you back then. I could have. I wanted to. But I didn’t.”Was he waiting for a thank you? Shiloh couldn’t have said it, even if he wanted to. He was afraid that, if he opened his mouth, he might scream. At this rate, he might have a heart attack from the anticipation before his brother even decided on a punishment.Micah calling Mal crazy was rich. Mal was weird. Really fucking weird. And not in the way all middle children were sort of off but weird in a way that Shiloh could never explain to an outsider with any cohesiveness. Malachi was just someone a person had to experience to truly get the scope of his eccentricities.Like Micah, Mal had a cruel streak. He enjoyed people’s suffering, but only if they wanted it. Consent was weirdly important to Mal. He liked toying with people, liked making them beg. But he also loved animals and babies. He loved music and art. He loved Shiloh. He’d tried his best to protect Shiloh.Mal was all extremes, all the time, and nobody ever knew which Mal they were going to get.As the silence stretched, Shiloh grew desperate to fill it. “I’m sorry, Micah. I fucked up. Just…just do what you have to. I deserve it,” he finally blurted, doing his best to sound sincere. “I won’t even fight back. I’ll even try not to cry this time. Okay?”“Oh, don’t placate me, little brother. I know you’d kill me right now if you could. If you had the balls,” Micah taunted. “But you don’t. If I handed you a gun and put it right to my forehead, you still wouldn’t pull the trigger.” He chucked Shiloh under the chin. “Because you love me. And love makes you weak. It’s why Mal is in prison. It’s why you’ll spend the rest of your life doing just what I tell you.”Micah was right. Shiloh wasn’t like his brothers. He didn’t have any interest in hurting people. He just wanted to draw and paint and play video games. He wanted to get a job and a boyfriend.He didn’t know why the genetic code that made Mal and Micah so good at being bad had skipped him, but it definitely had. In another life, with different parents, different circumstances, Shiloh probably would have had friends. People would have thought he was funny and sweet. He wouldn’t have been the weird kid.But, somehow, he’d ended up in this fucked-up family and it didn’t make any sense.If someone lined up Shiloh and his siblings, they’d be hard-pressed to find a single physical trait all three shared, except maybe their curls. They all had different fathers, but Micah and Malachi favored their mother’s Swedish looks—both blond and blue-eyed—whereas Shiloh resembled his Argentinian father—dark hair, dark eyes, golden skin.Unlike Micah, Malachi’s skin darkened under the sun just like Shiloh’s, and when Mal’s hair was dark, people could see the resemblance between them, which had always comforted Shiloh. He didn’t want to look like Micah, though some part of him wondered if he’d have gone easier on him if he had.But near as Shiloh could tell, the only trait all three brothers shared was something nobody else could see. They were all fucking crazy in their own way, a gift from their mother. The only thing she’d given them before she dove off the roof and left them behind.Shiloh had been six. Malachi ten. Micah fourteen. That was when everything had gone from barely tolerable to hellscape.“I’m not placating—”That was as far as Shiloh got before Micah’s fist connected with his stomach, bringing him to his knees once more. Micah’s fingers twisted into Shiloh’s hair until he cried out. He grabbed at his brother’s wrist instinctively, half-hoping his hair didn’t come out at the roots, but also wishing it would so the pain would stop. Micah started to drag him along the floor.“How about we go play on the roof?”“Please, no…” Shiloh begged, his sneakered feet scrambling for purchase on the tile floor as if doing so could prevent what came next. “Micah, not the roof. Please…please…I’ll do anything. I’ll get your gun back…please…”“Save your energy, baby brother. You’re going to need it,” Micah said. To one of the men who now followed behind them, he added, “Get the rope.”Shiloh gasped. Maybe he really was going to kill him this time. The thought made him feel almost peaceful. He just closed his eyes and thought about Levi and his patient eyes and soft lips.At least, he’d gotten a kiss first.Chapter 3Levi“He said he was there to kill you?”Levi nodded, sitting stiffly on Jericho’s super comfy couch in his penthouse apartment across town. It wasn’t the white couch they used to have; nothing about the apartment was really the same as before. The blankets were gone, the walls were painted. The place looked more…lived in? The new couch was much darker, probably to hide all the stains from spilled drinks and grubby little hands.Outside, the sun was just starting to rise, painting the sky in pinks, oranges, and yellows. Levi had come straight from work just as Jericho had asked. But he’d had two hours to think about everything that had happened, and now, he was more worried for Shiloh than ever. What would happen to him when he returned home without having completed his job?“Yeah, he said his brother wanted to send you a message.”Jericho’s husband, Atticus, sat in one of the chairs opposite the sofa, arms crossed, his expression mutinous. “How exactly would your dead body have sent a message to Jericho? Was he planning on leaving a calling card like some super-villain? Was he going to send a flower bouquet with a confession to your funeral? Send up a beacon in the night sky like Batman? Who is this moron?”People could say what they wanted about Atticus, but he sure never pulled any punches. You always knew where you stood with him. He seemed slightly more cranky than usual, but maybe that was because of Levi’s three-thirty wake up call. He seemed alert enough to have been up for some time but was still wearing pajama pants and one of Jericho’s t-shirts, his red hair messy.At first, Levi had thought Atticus was kind of an asshole—which, to be fair, he was—but he’d grown on all of them. Maybe because it was obvious how much Jericho loved him or maybe it was how protective Atticus was over all of them, even when they weren’t super nice to him. Either way, Levi respected the man. He’d saved their asses—and fed their asses—more than once.“Easy, Freckles,” Jericho murmured, sitting on the arm of the chair, petting a hand over his husband’s bed head.Levi hadn’t really thought about that. Maybe there was going to be some kind of calling card? It was hard to say because the plan had been thoroughly ruined. “I don’t know, man, but I do know that kid’s in trouble. His brother was slapping him and shoving him, and it definitely wasn’t the first time. He was really scared.”Jericho grimaced. “Did he say anything else that might help you identify him?”“All he said was his name was Shiloh and his brother was making him do this,” Levi said, shaking his head.He should have tried harder to get some kind of identifying information out of him. Instead, he’d kissed him. He touched his lips. It was a really good kiss, too. He was so…submissive. Deep down, Levi knew that submission probably came from years of trauma, but his dick wasn’t getting the message.Was it wrong that he wanted Shiloh to be submissive for him? He’d never hurt him. He’d never take advantage. He’d treat him like he was supposed to be treated. And he sure as shit wouldn’t let his fuckwad brother ever lay a finger on him again.Levi blinked when he realized Jericho was snapping his fingers in front of his face. “What?” he asked dully, realizing that Jericho had asked him a question.“Did you bring the security footage like I asked?” Jericho repeated.Levi nodded, pulling the thumb drive from his pocket, then hesitated. Jericho frowned at him. “What’s the problem?”Levi’s gaze slid away from the couple. “Who exactly is going to see this footage?”“Calliope, us,” Atticus said. “We’re not going to show the cops if that’s what you’re worried about.”That was so not what he was worried about. Fuck. Calliope was in their group chat. If she saw this, she’d tell everybody. How she’d even gotten into the group chat was a mystery. Maybe she’d just inserted herself one day and they’d never noticed. She was a hacker. If she could hack government agencies, surely, she could have invited herself into the group chat.But if she watched the footage, she’d see Levi kissing Shiloh. She would definitely tell the others. When Jericho saw it, he was going to have questions. At the very least, he would tease him. And then tell the others. If Calliope didn’t beat him to it. Which she probably would. And then Atticus would tell his brothers. And if he didn’t, Noah would. Why did he have to have the world’s most gossipy friends?“What’s the problem?” Jericho asked again.Levi closed his eyes. “So…before I give you this, there’s something you should probably know.”When he didn’t continue, Jericho gave him an impatient look. “Are you going to tell us or is this a guessing game because I haven’t had my coffee yet and I’m due at the garage in an hour and we still have to get the kids up and ready so Ever can watch them.”It was so weird to think of Jericho and Atticus as parents. Like, real parents, to little kids. Sure, the guys all thought of them as surrogates for their own shitty parents, but Jett and Jagger were literal toddlers—preschoolers? Without Jericho and Atticus, they would die. That was just so much responsibility for two guys who said they were too selfish to have kids.Levi took a deep breath and let it out. “When you watch the footage, you’re gonna see…”“Gonna see…” Atticus prompted impatiently.Levi didn’t know how to explain it. He’d watched the footage himself. He couldn’t even say he’d only kissed Shiloh to distract him. It was clear at first that the kiss was a surprise—to both of them—but then…then they’d, like, settled into it?Levi had watched a grainy 720p version of himself holding Shiloh’s chin, adjusting his position, tugging his mouth open, pushing his tongue between his lips. He’d watched Shiloh stiffen, then panic, then melt. Just rewatching it had made him hard.Luckily, there was no audio, no way for them to hear the way Shiloh had whimpered and whined into Levi’s mouth, practically begging for more.It hadn’t seemed like the kiss had lasted that long in person, but on camera, it didn’t look like Levi was thwarting a felony. It looked like he was attempting to execute one on Shiloh. And a not small part of him was disappointed it had ended with a kiss. He didn’t even care what kind of monster that made him.He just wanted Shiloh.He felt his face flush. “You’re gonna see me…kiss him.”“Kiss him?” Jericho repeated.Levi nodded. “Uh, yeah.”Atticus chuckled. “He put a gun to your head and you…kissed him?” He looked at his husband fondly. “Yeah, he’s definitely one of yours.”Jericho smirked, voice full of mock innocence as he said, “I don’t know what you mean.”“Mm,” Atticus said, his tone implying otherwise.“Why did you kiss him, exactly?” Jericho asked.Levi sighed, flouncing back onto the sofa cushions. “I was afraid Mendel would see the footage and see the gun in his hand. As soon as he raised his arm, I grabbed it and yanked him forward to block the gun from view.”“And you just thought, while you’re there, you’d have a little taste?” Atticus said, sounding amused.“I thought it would look less suspicious on camera if it just looked like I was kissing my boyfriend,” Levi muttered, face flushing.“Ah, so, it was for altruistic purposes?” Atticus said, nodding.“I don’t even know what that means,” Levi admitted. “None of that matters. He thinks his brother is going to kill him. We need to find him, protect him.” Levi looked at the sun creeping into the sky, his chest tightening. “If it isn’t already too late.”“He’s not dead,” Atticus said with a confidence Levi found impressive considering he hadn’t known Shiloh existed two hours ago.Levi frowned. “How do you know?”Atticus sighed. “His brother likes to beat the shit out of him, no?”Levi nodded. “Yeah?”“He’s not going to kill his favorite victim. You said the kid was nervous, scared, fidgeting, had no idea what he was doing? Made several mistakes?” Atticus asked.“Yeah?” Levi said again, unsure where Atticus was going with this.Atticus looked at Jericho, then back to Levi. “He knew the kid wasn’t going to kill you. He sent him in there to fuck with him. Maybe he even hoped you might kill him, but chances are he sent him in there to fail so that he’d have an excuse to beat him when he did. It’s a control tactic.”“But why? Why say that I was a message?” Levi asked, shaking his head.“You were. Here you are, telling us that he’s coming for me. That’s all he really wanted,” Jericho said. “He’s playing head games. Seems like a real egomaniac.”That was worse. What was this psycho doing to Shiloh right then? Was he hurting him? Was he hurting him because of Levi? He never should have given him the chance to run away. He should have kept him there. Even if Atticus was right and Shiloh’s brother was just setting him up, it was so that he could justify hurting him.“We have to save him…like Arsen did Ever,” Levi said. “Especially if his brother is just looking for excuses to torture him.”“We’ll try, kid,” Jericho assured him. “But first, we have to find him. He didn’t give any other identifying information? Nothing?”Levi shook his head, then stopped. “Wait. He has another brother. In prison. He said his older brother had framed him and that he was probably trying to do the same thing to Shiloh.”Atticus arched his brow. “Wow. I don’t suppose he dropped the brother’s name or what he went away for?”Levi sighed, shaking his head. “No.”“We’ll figure it out,” Jericho said. “In the meantime, head on a swivel. Just because he didn’t mean to kill you last night doesn’t mean he won’t try again now that the message has been delivered. That goes for the rest of the crew too. Make sure everyone is on high alert. Even Silas. We don’t know who this dick is or how much he knows about me. We need to act accordingly.”Levi nodded.“Daddy,” a tiny, sleepy voice called from somewhere inside the apartment. “Jagger won’t stop licking the cat.”Atticus closed his eyes and shook his head, then stood. “I’ll handle it.”“Why is your kid licking the cat?” Levi asked, frowning in the direction Atticus had disappeared.“‘Cause we stopped letting him lick the windows,” Jericho said, as if that made any more sense.Kids were so fucking weird. “Oh. Right. Um, I’m going to go and try to get some sleep. Let me know if Calliope figures anything out?”“Yeah, I will.” Jericho walked him to the door, then clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t spend all morning obsessing. He’s going to be fine. We’ll figure this out.”Levi nodded, but he didn’t really believe that. How was he supposed to find someone when all he had was a first name? What if he never saw Shiloh again? What if Atticus was wrong and Shiloh was already dead? Levi’s heart plummeted to his feet at the thought, but he shook it away.“He’s fine,” he whispered to himself as he got on the elevator, earning a nasty look from an old lady with a dog in her Chanel handbag. Rich people were fucking weird, too.Shiloh was fine. He kept repeating that over and over again. Shiloh was fine. Shiloh was fine. Shiloh was fine and Levi was going to find him and bring him to stay with him. He was going to help him.###“I got this,” Levi shouted through his headset.He nocked an arrow and fired, missing the dragon by a hair.“So…you don’t, in fact, got this,” Felix said, deadpan, his long wavy hair held off his face, his headphones acting as a headband.Levi rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.”“My turn,” Silas cried, hurling the body of a dead wraith at the enormous dragon on the screen.Nico barked out a laugh. “Really? That was your play? Launching a corpse at it?”Nico cackled. “What do you expect? He’s a bard. His intelligence is 8. He’s practically a himbo. Let me handle this.” Levi was only half listening, his mind elsewhere as his friends bickered like they always did. “Boom critical hit.”“Oh, good. Now we just have to do that like twenty-five more times,” Arsen said, his Russian accent heavy in Levi’s headphones, his shocking blue hair shaved into an undercut with the rest pulled into a ponytail that stood straight up on the top of his head like some kind of party popper.Levi tuned back into the conversation. “I’ll distract him and you guys just throw everything you’ve got at him.”“Dude, that dragon’s going to eat your ass if you get too close,” Silas said, his laugh borderline maniacal.Levi snorted at Silas’s assessment of the situation, trying to stay invested in the game despite the intrusive thoughts beating against the walls of his brain. “Kinky, hope he at least buys me dinner first,” he muttered.His friends' expressions varied from amused to irritated, their faces in neat squares on Levi’s second monitor, all judging him from the comfort of their own homes.“Like that’s ever stopped you before,” Cree said, voice as stoic as always.Levi sniffed, indignant. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”It made his chest tight looking at them all. He’d been looking forward to playing with his friends for days. But, now, he was distracted, his mind only on Shiloh. Sweet Shiloh and his sweet face. Shiloh. Shiloh. Shiloh. If Levi closed his eyes, he could picture those big sad eyes and pretty soft curls with perfect clarity.“He’s implying you’re a whore,” Seven clarified.“Seven!” Nico snapped, like a scandalized mother.Nico was as foul-mouthed as the rest of them but he was always so careful when it came to his words. Having a mother who was a sex worker made him sensitive to how people addressed those in the industry. And he wasn’t okay with people implying there was anything wrong with sex.Seven looked sheepish. “What?”Arsen gasped in mock surprise. “You’re slut shaming one of your best friends.”“I said he was a whore. I didn’t say he needed to be ashamed of it,” Seven clarified, grinning directly into his camera, his eyes the color of sea glass beneath prominent brows, a wide nose and full lips. Levi could hear the chiming of Seven’s computer, letting him know his viewers were giving him money. It must be nice to be so pretty that all you had to do was smile into the camera to rake in the cash. Levi swore every viewer paid him a dollar for each stupid perfect tooth in his stupid perfect mouth.Not that Levi was bitter about it.“Can we focus here?” Lake shouted.It was Silas’s turn again, Levi caught him leaning forward like he was getting serious.“Maybe you should try singing to it,” Cree said, tone so neutral it was hard to tell if he was serious.“Nah, man your charisma is off the charts. Seduce the dragon,” Seven chimed in.Silas snorted. “You want me to rizz a dragon?”“Don’t you fucking dare,” Lake warned. “It’s bad enough we had to sit through Levi seducing that sentient spider.”“Hey, it worked,” Levi reminded, expression smug.“Just shoot it or something,” Lake said, disgruntled.“Okay, okay,” Silas said. “You really know how to suck the fun out of things.”Silas missed the dragon entirely, the rock instead hitting a large boulder and smashing to dust uselessly.Lake groaned. “What the fuck, Silas? I swear to god you’ve got the aim of a stormtrooper.”“That’s cause his tav is a himbo,” Felix added, hurling a magic spell at the dragon now stumbling around on their screen, attempting to lock in on Levi as he ran around him.“You’re all just hurtful,” Silas said. “Hurtful and discriminating against my sweet golden retriever fae boy.”Felix snorted. “Oh, please. Discriminate? I married the ultimate golden retriever himbo.”“Where the fuck is Noah when I need him?” Lake shouted into the mic, dragging Levi from his fourth or fifth downward spiral of the day. Noah was a knight within the game, his avatar had the ability to charm dragon’s. He definitely would have been an asset, but he was busy running a hundred billion dollar corporation. “Levi, you're up again.”“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered.Levi also had an advantage with dragons, even more so than Noah, but he’d donated too many bonus points and depleted his resources. Something Lake had already bitched him out over.Levi loved Lake. It was impossible not to most days. But he hated when Lake was leading their guild. He was a tyrant. A dictator. A monster. Whenever that headset was on, the real Lake disappeared, possessed by a competitive, bossy, demon who shouted at them like they were on a battlefield at Gettysburg, not trying to win battles by fucking a giant or seducing white wraiths.Levi pulled out his longsword and headed for the dragon at a dead run. It opened its mouth and shot fire at him but his dragon scale armor protected him. He made contact and the dragon stumbled backwards. “Hah! Critical hit.”“It’s about time. Dude, how can someone with dragon ancestry be so fucking bad with dragons?” Lake said, disgusted. “It’s embarrassing.”“Your face is embarrassing,” Levi mocked in a high-pitched voice.Silas laughed. “Bruh, you know we’re not fighting a real dragon, right?”“Yeah, man, did a dragon wrong your bloodline? If you don’t calm down, you’re going to blow an artery,” Nico said.Lake didn’t respond, hurling a potion at the dragon and watching as it finally–finally–fell to the ground. “Was that so hard?”Levi caught Arsen’s boyfriend, Ever, walking into frame, plopping down between Arsen’s legs, a place he frequently sat when he wasn’t streaming himself. He squinted at the screen to see who was playing. “Who’s running the game?”“Lake,” they chorused with no enthusiasm, the sound loud through the speakers.Ever winced, quickly hiding it behind a smile, because he was a literal angel of a human. “Oh, that’s…nice.”Everyone burst out laughing except Lake who blushed to the roots of his fashionably swoopy hero hair. “Whatever,” he mumbled. “I’m the reason we win battles.”Seven snickered. “Calm down, GI Joe.”The others bit back laughter. Lake was freakishly calm in real life, scarily so. Levi had once seen him take a pool stick to the back of his head without so much as raising his voice to his attacker, even with blood running down the back of his favorite shirt. Lake believed anything could be solved with logic and patience. He was even calm when he killed people.But all that changed under the pressure of fictional responsibility. He became a whole different person.A mean one.Levi glanced at the time. Could he make his excuses and bail now without his friends giving him shit? He had wanted to bow out before they’d even started, but Nico had given him his sad, puppy eyes, saying how the guys missed him, like they hadn’t seen him two days ago for dinner at Jericho’s place. He’d even bribed him with a lollipop from his secret stash.They’d been playing for three hours. Now that they’d defeated the ass-eating dragon, Levi wanted to get back to what he really wanted to do, obsess over a stranger with soft lips who made the prettiest little squeaks when Levi had kissed him, whimpering and whining.““I think I’m gonna bail,” Levi said. “Homework.”“Lies,” Nico cried, pointing an accusing finger at him through the camera. “You don’t even have class until tomorrow. You just want to hide in your room and jerk off thinking about the sad little felon you made out with this morning.”Levi narrowed his eyes at Nico. “A. He isn’t a felon. B. We didn’t make out. C. You’re literally less than ten feet from me. We share an apartment. And, unfortunately, a wall.”“Irrelevant,” Nico said, curls bouncing as he shook his head.“I can’t believe you kissed some random stranger to stop a robbery,” Cree said.“It’s impressive, really,” Seven added.“That’s not the only reason he kissed him,” Felix said with a grin. “My brother said he’s in love with this adorable waifish little creature.”“Aww,” Ever said, beaming at him. “I can’t wait to meet him. I bet he’s so cute.”An angel. Ever was a literal angel. But honestly, so was Arsen. Together, they were nauseatingly kind and would do anything for anyone without question, even strangers. Which wasn’t inherently weird until you remember they both had a body count.“Are we still playing or what?” Lake asked. “If you’re gonna go, go,” he added, looking at Levi.Levi wasn’t sure why Lake even played the game. It just seemed to stress him out. The others all enjoyed it for what it was. Entertainment. Levi liked playing for the unpredictability. Arsen liked it because he wanted to be a hero. Cree liked its Dungeons & Dragons type game play. Felix played to stay connected to his childhood friends. Even Silas, the newest addition to their guild, just wanted companionship.“Dude, maybe we should have let that dragon eat your ass. You need to get laid. You’re so cranky,” Nico told Lake, shaking his head.And then there was Nico. That little weirdo liked the game because you could treat it like a dating sim and he just wanted to fuck a dragon, or banshee or a dark fae without judgment. Nico liked to tease Levi for being a whore, but he was the one who couldn’t keep it in his pants. Levi would know.A chime like church bells came through his computer indicating someone had given him money. Fuck, he’d forgotten he was streaming. He flicked his gaze to the monitor that had the comments open on his screen. “Thanks, pink_plushie69.”Levi was grateful to get the money. The little extra he made streaming helped keep him and Nico in ramen and mac & cheese. He tried to engage with his audience while he played, but it was harder during a group play. Luckily, most of his watchers were content to listen to the banter. On days where he couldn’t talk, he tended to be more playful with his characters, going more for fun than for wins. Even at the risk of Lake’s wrath.Just today, Levi had seduced an Orc, almost been betrothed to the head of a pack of shapeshifting druids, and negotiated away one of his eyes for a magic spell that allowed him to see the unseen. Hopefully, they were entertained enough to return to his stream again another day.“Yeah, I’m gonna-”He frowned as his phone started vibrating across the desk surface.It was the hospital.Levi flung off his headset without another word, ignoring the shouts of his teammates through the tinny speaker. He snagged his phone and headed to the tiny living room of their shoebox size apartment.Shiloh? Had Jericho found him? Had Levi’s actions caused the boy that level of injury?Levi shook his head. That didn’t make any sense. How would Jericho have found Shiloh and why would the hospital call Levi? If Jericho had somehow found Shiloh, Jericho would have been the one to call?That only left one other person.Dread settled like a lead weight over his shoulders. He swiped to answer. “Hello?”“Is this Levi Akira?” an unfamiliar male voice said.Levi hesitated before finally saying, “Yeah? Who’s this?”The man seemed taken aback by Levi’s unnecessarily aggressive tone, but Levi didn’t apologize. “I’m Dr. Claymore. Your mother is Naomi Miller, correct?”An eerie feeling settled in his chest, a strange tension or anticipation building like a wire being pulled tighter and tighter, until it felt like he was ready to snap. “Is she dead?” he asked, voice icy.“What?” the man said, clearly startled. “No. No. But there has been an accident.”Levi couldn’t even hide his sigh. Nico came out of his room wearing threadbare boxers and a hoodie, frowning at him in question.Levi held up a finger at him to stay quiet. “What kind of accident?”At the word accident, Nico drifted closer, mouthing, “Naomi?”Levi nodded, putting it on speaker so Nico could hear and he wouldn’t have to rehash the whole conversation in five minutes when he hung up.“It seemed your mother was hit by a bus whi-”“A bus!?” Nico gasped, clutching his chest like something out of a soap opera. He was nothing if not dramatic.“My mom got hit by a bus?” Levi shouted, feeling like he’d slipped into the Twilight Zone.“And she’s alive?” Nico stage whispered, eyes bugging.“Yes,” Dr. Claymore said. Levi didn’t know which of them he was answering, but it didn’t matter. “Luckily, it had just begun to pull from a curb when your mother…jumped in front of it, so they were only going about five miles an hour. She has some minor scrapes and contusions.”“Was she trying to off herself or something?” Nico asked into the mic.Dr. Claymore hesitated. “It was very hard to get a full narrative, but what we’ve pieced together is she tried to board the bus to go to the store, they refused her access, she jumped in front of the bus as it was taking off so they couldn’t leave without her.”Levi was long past being shocked by his mother’s antics. “Oh. Okay, well are you calling me to come get her or something…”The man cleared his throat. “Oh, no, that’s not possible. Mr. Akira…your mother is—well, your mother was brought in with a blood alcohol level of 0.34. In most people that would be enough to have them seizing, maybe even comatose. Your mother, however, was combative. She kicked one of the nurses and started tossing lunch trays off a cart in the hallway.”Of course, she had.“Jesus,” Levi muttered.“We’re calling to notify you that we have her in medical restraints, but that we are following strict protocols as mandated to us by law. Due to her severe intoxication and disregard for safety, we do have her on a 72 hour hold as we believe she is a danger to herself and others.”“Like a psych hold?” Levi said, trying to wrap his head around what the man was saying.“Yes, but she’s not being transferred to a mental health facility. She is being medically detoxed here in the ICU so we can closely monitor her.”“Why?” Levi asked, voice flat.There was a long pause. “What?”Levi walked to the worn couch and flopped down. “Why bother? She will have a beer in her hand fifteen minutes after you release her from the hospital. Save your care for someone who wants it. It’s not like we can afford to pay the bill anyway.”“So you are aware that she’s an alcoholic?” Dr. Claymore asked.Levi gave a humorless laugh. “My mother has never been sober a day in my life.”The man on the other end sighed. “That would explain her labs. She’s a very sick woman. Her liver and pancreatic labs came back grossly elevated, she’s severely deficient in several vitamins and electrolytes. She has a low platelet count, severe dehydration. She’s underweight and her tox screen showed positive for amphetamines and marijuana.”Levi made eye contact with Nico whose mouth was a flat line, his anger radiating off him. If there was anyone who hated Naomi more than Levi, it was Nico. He was a good friend. “I’m not trying to be rude, doc, but do you need something from me? Because I don’t really understand why you’re telling me all this.”“You’re her emergency contact in her phone.”Levi shrugged as if the man could see him. “Okay?”“We just thought you should know where she was in case you went looking for her or in the event she took a turn.”“Well, now I know,” Levi said, tone flippant.“Mr. Akira, when your mother is sober, we’d like to talk to her about treatment options. I’m not sure of your…financial situation but given your mother’s appearance and your comment about not being able to afford the hospital stay, would it be safe to say she is indigent? I just want to make sure our social workers are looking for facilities who can take her free of charge.”Levi snorted. “Yeah, we’re broke. She’s unemployed. She’s on food stamps and lives in government housing. But none of that matters. She will never allow you to send her to rehab. She loves beer way more than she loves being alive.”“We were hoping you would be here when we had the talk with her? Sometimes family members are the push we need to finally get through to them.”Levi’s laugh tasted bitter. “She loves beer more than she loves me, too. I wouldn’t waste my time. Just sober her up and let her go home. Save yourself a lot of time and unnecessary phone calls.”“Mr. Akira-”“Just call me Levi,” Mr. Akira was his father. Another useless piece of shit.Dr. Claymore’s tone was pitying. “Levi, I know when a loved one is in the throes of addiction, it can feel hopeless-”Levi cut him off. “When I was eleven, my mom sold me to our landlord–repeatedly–in exchange for beer and access to the forty five dollars a month on his EBT card. One of my first memories is my mother leaving me in the trunk of her car so she could go to the bar because she didn’t want me ‘getting into anything’ while she was gone. I was three. She didn’t care then, she doesn’t care now. I’m just the guy who delivers her booze and her groceries. The only person she cared about disappeared a long time ago.”“I’m-”“Have a nice day.”Levi hung up on the man and then just sat there, staring. Nico came to sit beside him, resting his head on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything. Nico always knew when to just let things be. He knew Levi wasn’t sad. Levi wasn’t anything. He’d closed that box a long time ago. He wasn’t opening it now.“Wanna get Arsen and Ever and go eat greasy diner food until we puke?” Nico finally said.Levi gave a slow nod. “Yeah, let’s do that.”Chapter 4ShilohShiloh burrowed deeper into his green puffer coat,partially to hide the swelling and bruising on his face, and partially because he was cold. The place was always freezing. And loud. Loud and jarring, making Shiloh’s eardrums feel like they were vibrating. Everything echoed. Everything. And the acoustics were weird there. Things that sounded close could be on the other side of the building or right beside you. And you wouldn’t know it until it was too late.It was all the metal bars with their peeling mint green paint. But it was even worse on the inside, a hellscape made of artificial light and concrete. Shiloh hunched his shoulders, making himself smaller than he was. There were too many guards, too many guns. The whole place made him feel caged in, like a bear about to step in a trap, like the guards could tell he belonged there and would just refuse to let him go.Guilt shot through him like a lightning bolt. Mal was there because of him. Because he’d protected Shiloh from Micah’s wrath one time too many. Under different circumstances, Mal might have been a truly gentle soul. He loved music and art and dance. Anime and graphic novels.Mal wasn’t meant for darkness; to Shiloh he was all light. But now, thanks to life, he was a light that flickered on and off like a no vacancy sign, based on who he needed to be that day. No, Mal wasn’t meant for darkness, but he dwelled there just the same. For Shiloh. To protect Shiloh.Mal would say he deserved to be there. He thought himself no better than Micah. He’d hurt people, killed people, even. Didn’t have a shred of remorse. But there was no part of Mal that was even a little like Micah. Malachi hurt bad people, killed bad people. Mal only wanted the world to be interesting and bright and pretty. Micah wanted to build a world on a pile of rotting corpses.Micah deserved to be in this concrete hell, not Malachi.Shiloh kept his hands in his pockets and his head down until it was time for the guards to search him for contraband. He stood patiently, counting the cracks in the cement floor, as they patted him down.Once the man finished, he signaled to a woman on the other side of the bullet proof glass. Shiloh jumped as the alarm sounded, the grating buzzer making his eardrums vibrate uncomfortably a moment before the lock disengaged. The guard pushed the door open, then escorted him towards the visitor room.The further into the prison they went, the more depressing it became. Iron bars gave way to dingy white walls, water stained ceilings and rooms with heavy iron doors. It was all so bleak.The walk seemed to take forever, the guards echoing footsteps, adding to the overall anxiety shaking Shiloh’s insides. A voice in the back of his head whispered that he shouldn’t have come. The voice was right. When Micah found out—and he would—Shiloh would probably get another beating. He might even end up on the roof again. He couldn’t take another trip up there.But it wasn’t Micah’s wrath that made Shiloh question his decision to visit. It was Mal’s reaction when he saw what Micah had done to him. Shiloh’s eye was a solid eggplant purple from his brow bone to his cheek bone. Another green and yellow bruise mottled his jaw. And even though he’d sealed his split lip with some super glue, it was still swollen and red.Mal would be…upset. And when Mal was upset, he didn’t think straight. Shiloh couldn’t afford for Mal to do anything stupid while he was in there. There was too much at stake. Like his freedom.Luckily, most of the damage was below Shiloh’s clothing. As long as Shiloh sat before they brought Mal in, he wouldn’t be able to see how badly he limped from his sprained ankle or the abrasions from the ropes. He wouldn’t know how discolored his abdomen, hips and legs were or how it felt like he’d been trampled by a dozen horses.Shiloh could do this.Once inside the large visitor room, he chose a table in the far corner of the otherwise empty space. He wanted some privacy. He sat on the cold metal bench on one side of the equally cold metal table, both bolted to the floor. He chewed on his thumb nail, leg jittering as he waited. He glanced at the six narrow slots they called windows at the top of the tall ceiling, wondering why they even bothered at all.Prison was supposed to be for rehabilitation, but how could anyone better themselves there? It was so dreary and demoralizing. The truth was, prison wasn’t about reformation, it was about punishment. And, sure, some people deserved punishment, but Shiloh thought punishment should fit the crime. How was it that a money launderer, a drug dealer and a murderer were all somehow considered equal under the eyes of the law?And Mal was locked in there with all of them.“Shi?”Shiloh’s heart leapt at his brother’s soft voice. He jumped from his seat and threw his arms around his neck before the guard by the door barked, “No touching.”Shiloh clung for another few seconds before Mal pushed him back gently, nodding for him to sit. Shiloh looked him over, taking inventory of his brother’s appearance. He wore socks and sandals, baggy gray sweatpants and a gray hoodie with only one arm in the sleeve, the other sleeve and the rest of the sweatshirt tucked up around his neck like a scarf, revealing a thin white t-shirt underneath.His previously bleached hair was now the same deep brown as Shiloh’s, and his lanky frame seemed to have gained a bit of muscle, making his shoulders look broader than before. His face was as delicate and unblemished as Shiloh remembered, no bruises marred his perfect skin.Somehow, despite months in prison, his brother looked just as pretty as the day he’d been sentenced. Something inside Shiloh unclenched at that. He looked far worse than Malachi.They stared at each other for a long moment, Mal’s long lashes fluttering, like he was trying to process the numerous bruises on Shiloh’s face, his jaw muscle ticking like a heartbeat as he did. He reached over and snagged Shiloh’s jaw, turning his face this way and that.“No touching,” the guard shouted again, seemingly more out of a sense of duty than any actual concern for the rules.Mal flicked his cat-like gaze towards the doughy faced man with his paunchy stomach, his fingertips hot against Shiloh’s chin. The guard eyed him warily, then took a step towards them. Mal dropped his hands, raising them in mock surrender. The guard rolled his eyes, then went back to staring at the far wall.“What happened,” Mal asked, voice as serene as always. “What did he do?”“It was my fault.” Shiloh swallowed hard. “I-I fucked up.”Mal slow-blinked at him, then tipped his head one way than the other, neck cracking loudly in the quiet. “I very much doubt that.”“I…I was supposed to kill somebody,” he whispered. “One of Jericho’s boys. You know, the mechanic guy Micah has such a hard-on for? Micah wanted me to kill one of his guys as a message. But…I couldn’t do it.”To an outsider, Mal’s placid expression would have looked cold, even disinterested. His gaze traveled the room slowly, taking in every crack in the brick, every chip in the paint before finally settling on Shiloh once more.“Of course, you couldn’t,” he said, as if the notion of Shiloh killing anyone was absurd.“But I was supposed to. He made me take a gun, dragged me to the convenience store where the guy worked, wouldn’t leave until I went inside. I tried…I tried so hard to do it, even though I didn’t want to.”  Shiloh trailed off, cheeks hot. “I thought if I could just kill him, maybe he would get you out of here.” Mal gave him another long lazy blink. “I tried, Mal. I swear, I tried, I stuck the gun right in his face.”Mal’s lips twitched. “And what happened?”Shiloh pushed his jacket hood off his head, the room suddenly feeling stuffy. Should he tell Mal everything? He wanted to tell Mal. He needed to talk to his brother, to process all of the weird feelings bubbling up inside him that he couldn’t put a name to.“I fucked up. I forgot to take the safety off. I-I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I worried Micah was still out there, watching, and I was afraid he’d think I hadn’t even tried if I didn’t do something. But the boy he wanted me to kill…” Shiloh trailed off, thinking of Levi’s kind eyes and sexy mouth. “He was just so…nice.”A grin spread across Mal’s face, eyes sparkling. “Someone’s got a crush.”Mal knew him so well. “Shut up. That’s not what I meant.” That’s exactly what he meant. “He-he offered me money when he thought I was there to rob the place. Did everything he could to talk me out of it. Even when I said I was there to kill him, he still didn’t try to hurt me.”Mal studied him, staring deep into Shiloh’s eyes like he was reading his mind. He used to find it disconcerting, but now he just waited him out. Mal would always tell him what he was thinking. Unlike Micah, Mal was direct. No bullshit. No head games. He was smart, but he lacked the ability to understand nuance. He didn’t process emotions like other people so he preferred directness. Too much emotion often confused him.The human world at large often confounded Mal, so he spent much of his time alone, doing things that quieted his head. Dance. Music. Art. Shiloh used to think Mal was an alien from some far off planet, sent to study human behavior.“So you panicked, dropped the gun and ran?” Mal finished. “And then Micah took you to the roof as punishment?”Shiloh looked away from Mal’s always intense gaze. “Well, not exactly. I mean, yeah, he took me to the roof but I didn’t just run…not until...”“What did you do, little brother?” Mal asked, amused.Shiloh shook his head a little too quickly. “I didn’t do anything…it was all h-him.”“Go on,” Mal said, leaning in, placing his elbow on the metal table and his chin on his palm. “What did he do?”Shiloh was suddenly boiling in his puffy jacket, perspiration rolling along his spine. “I-He grabbed my wrist. I thought he was going to take the gun, but instead he…”“He…” Mal prompted.“He kissed me,” he whispered.Mal’s delighted giggle echoed through the room, earning a hard side-eye from the guard. “Well, that’s one way to thwart a criminal. And now the baby's in love, huh?”“I am not,” Shiloh muttered. “I don’t even know him.”Mal smirked at him. “But you’d like to.” When Shiloh just continued to look at him, expression miserable, Mal’s smirk spread to a full grin. “You do, you like him.”“So what if I do?” Shiloh muttered, picking at some kind of gummy adhesive on the side of the metal table.Mal patted Shiloh’s hand quickly, retracting it before the guard could see. “It’s normal to have crushes at your age. As long as they’re not like the others.”Shiloh flinched at Mal’s words. “He’s nothing like them,” he snapped, though he had zero evidence to support his defense.Mal waved a hand, then gracefully tucked his hair behind one elfin ear. “Then what’s the problem?”“Um, our psychotic brother?” Shiloh said, just a little too loudly, earning another look from the guard. He dropped his voice back to a whisper. “He wants me to get the gun back.”“Wait, you really did drop the gun?” Mal laughed, but it wasn’t mean like Micah. It was fond, like he missed how inept Shiloh was at everything. “Rookie mistake, doodlebug.”Shiloh used to hate how Mal called him that. It’s what their mother had called him when he was really little, before she went so far over the cuckoo’s nest she learned she couldn’t fly.“I know,” Shiloh whined, miserable.Mal stretched his arms overhead, joints cracking loudly, looking like a cat just waking from a nap in the sun. “On the bright side, looks like you get to see your hero again.”Shiloh couldn’t even get excited about that. “What if he wants me to try and kill him again?”“Did he ask you to try to kill him again?” Mal countered.Shiloh stopped short, then shook his head. “No…”“Then relax. He’s just fucking with you. If he’d wanted that kid dead, he’d be dead. And he definitely wouldn’t have sent you. No offense,” Mal said, inflection never changing. “He just wanted to humiliate you and hurt you. It seems he did both.”Shiloh stared at his brother who continued to gaze at him with a soft look. How was Mal so calm? How did he look so put together? Wasn’t he scared? Surely prison had to be terrifying? Shiloh would never survive on the inside.Suddenly, it felt like someone had a fist around both his lungs, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe, words thick as he blurted, “I need you to come home, Mal. I can’t-I can’t stand being there without you. He’s so much worse when you’re not around to play his stupid mind games with him. I miss you so much.”“I miss you too,” Mal assured him, though once again, his tone implied otherwise. “It won’t be forever, doodlebug.” He reached across the table and grabbed one of Shiloh’s curls, pulling it, then watching it spring back into a coil, then batted at it once, then again, pleased. After a moment of staring, he seemed to remember he was having a conversation and that Shiloh was a person not a toy. “He’ll get bored and he’ll find a way to get me out. I just have to bide my time.”“Are you okay?” Shiloh asked, gaze dropping to his brother’s bruised and bloodied knuckles. “I didn’t even ask. I just started babbling about me. Are-Are they hurting you or anything?”Mal’s cackle bordered on insane, echoing through the room, running straight down Shiloh’s spine. Even the guard looked startled. But Mal only looked at Shiloh, eyes glittering. “Oh, please, little brother. Who could ever hurt me?”Shiloh rolled his eyes. “You’re not invincible, Mal.”Mal gave him a toothy grin. “Prove it.”Shiloh couldn’t. If there was anyone who could somehow defy the laws of nature, it was Malachi. He wasn’t like other people. His brother’s behaviors and mannerisms were more cat than human, whether he behaved like a house cat or jungle cat depended entirely on the person he interacted with. Mal matched energy. What people gave was what they got. Often to their detriment.Mal didn’t look crazy. Some days, he wasn’t. Other days…well, those days it was just best to leave him be. Shiloh often struggled to describe Malachi to others. Even the way he looked seemed to shift based on his moods. Some days, Mal looked so delicate and feminine that people could mistake him for a girl, other days, he looked dangerous, cap pulled low over dark brows, feline eyes so devoid of humanity, people crossed the street to get away from him.Mal was an ever-spinning kaleidoscope of human behaviors, the pieces of his personality falling together into a different formation every time he woke. That scared most people, but not Shiloh. No matter what personality Mal donned in the morning, all of them loved Shiloh, all of them protected Shiloh.Shiloh just wanted to return that gift.“Are those bruises on your knuckles from fighting?” Shiloh finally asked, his tone stern.Mal looked down at his hands, frowning at the scabs as if he’d forgotten they were there. He shook his head. “Nah, there’s a heavy bag in the gym. It’s a good distraction. Keeps me from doing anything…crazy. You know how I get without dance.”Shiloh shivered. “Please don’t hurt anybody. They’ll never let you out.”Mal scoffed. “You worry about staying alive out there in the big, bad world. Me?” He twirled his hands with a flourish. “I always come out on top, bay-bee.”Shiloh shook his head, helplessly. “I know. That’s the problem. You’re going to kill someone and they’ll, like, throw you in solitary for a year or something and then I won’t even be able to come and visit.”Mal shook his head, smiling. “You have a vivid imagination, doodlebug. Nobody messes with me here,” he promised, smile dropping. “At least, not more than once.”“What if they gang up on you?” Shiloh asked, unable to stop blurting out all the worst case scenarios that played out in his head when he tried to sleep at night.Mal tilted his head back, his hand going limp at the wrist, his smile soft and his voice wistful, suddenly heavy with a southern drawl. “Well, then whatever tragedy befalls them, will be considered self-defense.”Mal started to laugh once more, not the loud maniacal cackle from earlier, but tiny little giggles like he pictured all the ways he might defend himself against these fictional attackers.Holy fucking shit. Both his brothers were lunatics. He needed to get Mal out of there before he did something they’d all regret. He folded his arms and set them on the table, then rested his forehead on them. “What do I do, Mal?” he asked, voice muffled. “How do I get you out of here?”Fingers threaded through Shiloh’s sweaty locks, Mal humming a lullaby to him like he was a baby. Whenever things were bad, Shiloh would climb into Mal’s bed and he’d card his fingers through his hair and hum to him. It used to ease all his fears. Now, it felt like the second act of a horror movie.“There, there,” Shiloh said in a singsong voice. “Don’t fret. It’ll all work out, doodlebug.”Shiloh gave a low whine. “You’re crazy, Mal. You’re so fucking crazy.”“No touching,” the guard shouted.Mal’s fingers never stopped, never even slowed. He just…started to giggle.