“Stop trying to convince yourself that’s true. Quit telling yourself that deep-down you didn’t feel connected to us right away, because you did. You passed on the chance at a new life when Perkins hit you with that offer, something even we know you want, to stay with us. Then you went there, willing to give it all up to protect us, meaning you’d walk away with nothing.” Captain glances at his brothers before continuing.

“You fire off on reflex, which is a really good thing most of the time, it means you’re quick to the wit and can turn a bad situation into a favorable one when needed. Knowing that about you makes us more comfortable when you’re not in our sights. But Raven, do not ever think you need to protect us from anything.”

I hear what he’s saying, and it makes sense, but that’s not the point. I may not have thought it through completely, but I knew what was at risk and it far outweighed where I landed in the end.

I lean forward, hoping the urgency I felt is delivered. “How could I walk away that night, knowing what could have maybe happened if I didn’t try to stop it?”

His brows pinch and then smooth out in the same second. He slowly stands, making his way over to me and my stomach starts to flip.

He drops down in front of me, and in the corner of my eye, I catch Big Man looking away.

“Raven ...” He trails off, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are you telling me, you did what you did, made a fucking deal with Collins, for my daughter? For my baby girl who you’ve never even met and owe nothing to?” He swallows, the corners of his eyes squeezing, like the damn strings to the heart I’m only just discovering.

“I ...” I drop my eyes to my lap. This shit’s too much for me. “She’s not the only reason.”

Royce’s light chuckle catches my attention.

I look to him and he offers a small smile.

“This is why you fit, RaeRae.” My damn shoulders shouldn’t ease at the nickname. “You’re honest when most would lie, you’re strong when others are weak. You’re loyal without having to try, even if it was a fucked-up way to show it.” He winks.

I grin and look back to Captain as he stands. He looks down at me, nods his head and disappears into the suite.

Royce stands and pats my shoulders, following after his brother, and I close my eyes a minute, taking in a few deep breaths.

“Come here,” I demand of Maddoc.

When I hear no movement, I open my eyes and look at him.

He lifts his chin, so I lift a brow. With a small smirk, he pushes to his feet, and slowly steps to me. Once he’s towering over my seated form, I stare up at him.

Green eyes, shining in the dark, and swimming with too many thoughts to count.

I grip the bottom of his hoodie and pull, so he bends, placing his hands on the back of the little sofa style patio seat I’m sitting on.

My chest stirs, a tightness I’m not familiar with taking over, and a heavy exhale leaves me.

His slow blink has me swallowing.

“Sit.”

“I was sitting.”

“I didn’t ask what you were doing. I said sit.” I slide my hands under his top and press along his damn tapered waist. “Sit.”

He fights me for a second, frowning down at me, but then does as I asked right as the boys step back out with new, larger drinks.

I glance at Maddoc, but he only stares, waiting for me to fill his brothers in on what I told him on the train.

I reach in the waist of my jeans and pull my knife out. I look to Royce and hold it up. His brows pull in and he nods his chin, so I toss it to him.

His eyes are slow to pull from me and move to the metal in his hands.

“Turn it over, Royce.”

He flips it over and when he does, he freezes a moment, drawing it closer to his face. He sees it, etched into the side in a classic cursive script: Family runs deeper than blood.

What I now know are the Brayshaw’s words to live and breathe by.

Royce slowly pushes right back to his feet.

“What...” He trails off.

Captain snatches it from Royce’s open palm, and his head snaps up, eyes meeting mine.

“This is your knife, the knife you’ve been carrying around here for months?”

“Yes.”

“What the fuck does this mean?” Royce asks, cutting quick glances between the three of us.

“Your dad, yesterday wasn’t the first time I’ve seen him,” I tell them. “He goaded me in there, as if I could forget his face. He knew if he threw out the words I’ve read at least a handful of times a day since the day I first heard them, that I’d remember, but I didn’t need that. I remember his face and his voice.”

“Raven...” Captain visibly pales, his head shaking slowly.

“He was one of my mom’s clients when I was younger. Came by once a week, every week, for at least a year. The day he gave me my knife was the last day I ever saw him.” I nod at Royce, hold my hands up, and he tosses it back.

“When was that?” Royce asks.

“Eleven years ago.” I lick my lips, glancing between the three.

The timeline still makes no sense as far as how long she said he’s been paying her. “She must have pulled some shit right after that last night he was over. I won’t apologize for what she did, I refuse to do that for her, but ... I am sorry you guys lost his physical presence.”

“It’s not your fault,” Royce tells me, and I shrug.

With a frown, Cap stretches back, pulling his brass knuckles from his pocket. He leans forward and hands them to me.

Made of real silver, they’re heavy. Expensive. There’s a tiny anchor, matching the one on his knuckles printed into the side and looping through each finger slot, a thin engraving: Family runs deeper than blood.

My stomach heats and I grip the item tighter.

Royce moves closer, dropping to his knees in front of me. He pulls his hoodie over his head and flips his arm over, showing me the underside of his full sleeve.

Hidden inside the intricate design the words are blended, not to be easily seen or read, hidden there, just for him.

“I have a crest at home I used to wear around my neck, but I almost lost it once. Now, no matter what, my family is with me,” Royce tells me.

Maddoc sits forward and pulls his wallet out, sliding a key from the inner folds and handing it over.

I flip it and there it is again, imprinted perfectly along the edge.

I run my fingers across it, taking a deep breath. “What’s it open?”

“Don’t know yet, maybe nothing, just a token of sorts,” he says, pausing for a moment. “We didn’t have to accept each other once we understood we came from different parents, but we are a family in every sense of the word. We chose each other.” I look up, meeting Maddoc’s eyes.

“And now we choose you,” he vows. “He chose you.”

“He only saw me at night when I was nothing but the dope head, prostitute’s kid he had to distract with ice cream and a fucking movie. He didn’t even know me, Maddoc, or the shit I did in the daylight, even at seven years old.”

“He’s intuitive.”

When I start to shake my head, Maddoc grips it between his hands, a frown taking over his face once more. “Raven, that was not his knife,” he throws out tersely. “I have never seen that knife before. Being a Brayshaw has rules, and if an item is given to you by a Bray, it was created for you, and not to be given away. Those words are sacred. If he gave you something with them written on it, it’s because he knew, eventually, you’d be exactly where you are right now. With us.”