Chapter 189
Elias stepped through the front door looking like he’d just gone ten rounds with the kids at the orphanage and knowing him, he probably had. His hair was a mess, his shirt stained with something suspiciously sticky, and there was a scuff along his jaw that told me one of the toddlers had landed a good swipe. Because of the whole “trapped in time” thing I went through, Elias and I ended up graduating at the same time. Strange twist of fate, but it worked. Where I tended to drift toward the Underworld to help out with things down there, Elias had taken to spending most of his time with Mum and Dad at the orphanage. The quads, meanwhile, were expected to shoulder more of the pack responsibilities. Between all of us, it balanced out. Too many moving pieces, sure, but at least there were enough hands to keep everything from falling apart.
“Hey, Elias!” Macey shot up from her chair and threw her arms around him, her smile bright enough to chase away whatever war he’d just fought.
“Hey, sis,” he said warmly, hugging her back before glancing around. His eyes landed on me. “Where are the folks?”
“Underworld,” I answered. “They’ll be back around dinner time.”
“Perfect.” He grinned, the kind of grin that only meant trouble. “I was hoping we could take the bikes out for a ride today if anyone’s keen.”
That got my attention.
Envy had been the one to teach all of us to ride, and on our sixteenth birthdays, it had become tradition to receive a bike of our own. A rite of passage, in a way. What we did on those bikes was another story altogether. Street racing through the back roads, running our engines until the neighbours complained, sometimes even testing how close we could cut corners before eating dirt.
Our parents hated it–every single one of them. Even Envy, who had been the one to put us on the seats in the first place, had chewed us out the first time she caught wind of us racing. Still, I’d seen the glint in her eye, the curve of a smile she tried to hide. She was proud, even if she’d never admit it out loud. The quads, of course, weren’t sixteen yet. No bikes, no licenses. Which meant they usually ended up tattling when we disappeared for rides. None of us appreciated that.
So, naturally, I’d gone to the trouble of digging up dirt on each of them to keep their mouths shut. Nothing dangerous, just enough leverage to hold over their heads when they got the urge to play snitch. Felix’s little stash of pansy sketchbooks, Dorian’s secret crush, Kieran’s less–than–stellar attempt at sneaking into the armoury, Lyra’s… well, Lyra was trickier, but even she had weaknesses.
I smirked to myself, already seeing their faces when they realised Elias was serious about taking the bikes out.
“Count me in,” I said, stretching back in my chair. “Been itching to take mine for a spin.”
Macey’s eyes lit up, her whole body buzzing with excitement before she even spoke. “I’m coming too.”
And just like that, my chest tightened. Of course, she wanted to come. Of course, she’d want to throw herself into something reckless, dangerous, thrilling. That was Macey. And it terrified me almost as much as it thrilled me.
Predictably, the quads reacted like a pack of wolves scenting blood.
“The parents won’t like that,” Dorian said immediately, arms crossed.
“Yeah,” Felix chimed in, his voice smooth but a little wary. “You know what happens when they find out we’re out racing again.”
Kieran nodded, backing his brothers up. “You’re asking for trouble, Elliot.”
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Suit, Sep 28
Chapter 189
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I leaned forward in my chait, arching a brow at all three of them. “Oh really?” My voice dropped just enough to make them shift in place. “And you’d risk everyone knowing those little things I found out… just to tattle on us?” That shut them up. All three boys pouted almost in unison, like pups caught with their paws in the cookie jar.
Macey’s grin widened, eyes flicking between us with obvious amusement.
Lyra rolled her eyes, tiara glinting under the light. “If you kill yourselves, Mum and Dad will have your asses in hell for all eternity,” she said flatly, like it was the most obvious statement in the world.
I smirked at her. “Then I guess we’d better not get caught, huh?”
Macey laughed under her breath, and just like that, the tension cracked open into something wild and reckless.
I catch her hand before she can fling herself into the garage like a cannonball. “Get your leathers on first, Mace. We can play recklessly all we want, but we at least need our gear on.”
She huffs, delighted, and is halfway up the stairs before I can blink. “Right,” she calls back, grin loud enough to be heard through the floorboards.
Elias and I are already warming the bikes when she slips back down, the machines humming, chrome catching the late–afternoon light. She moves like she always has: quick, sure, a little dangerous. The leather hugs her in all the places it should and all the places that make my teeth ache. Practical? Absolutely. Flattering? Insultingly so. My mouth goes dry, and I clear my throat on purpose because I am a functioning adult who has mastered breathing and walking and not melting into a puddle on the garage floor. I grab her helmet the way I always do, like it’s part of a ritual, like fastening it into place makes the world steadier. I cock a finger, and she comes closer without hesitation. She trusts me like she always has; it’s a small, blazing, terrifying thing. I slide the strap beneath her chin, fingers lingering to make sure it’s snug. My thumb brushes her jaw when I tuck the strap away, and the heat that travels up my arm isn’t just from the bike.
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t pull away. “You were always an overprotective bastard.”
“Always.” I mean it. Then I add, softer, because the memory presses into me, “And I’ll always be here.”
She flashes me that look, half mischief, half something that makes my bones go hollow, and I almost say everything I’ve rehearsed in a thousand sleepless hours. Instead, I shove the helmet under my arm and swing onto my bike. “Come on, or we’ll miss the light.”
Lyra sticks her head in the doorway, tiara somehow managing to look ridiculous and regal all at once. “Don’t kill yourselves,” she calls, deadpan, then disappears again. Dorian and Kieran are already arguing about starting positions like they’re still six years old, loud, competitive, and forever the dramatic brothers. Felix gives me a sideways look that says he’s keeping score of how many times I let Macey do whatever she wants. They’ll squawk. They’ll threaten tattling. They’ll pout when I remind them of the things I’ve got on file. They’ll laugh in a minute when we come back grinning and breathing and filthy and unbroken. This is the rhythm of us. This is family.
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