51. Fifty

The clock on the mantle ticked away, each second feeling like an eternity. I paced the living room of the Laskin family house while Xander lounged on the couch.

“Chill, dude. You're gonna wear a hole in the floor.” He lifted the remote and flipped the channel.

I shot him a glare. “How can you be so calm? Shepherd's been gone for hours.”

He shrugged, not taking his eyes off the TV. “Shepherd can handle himself. Besides, this isn't exactly his first rodeo.”

I wanted to scream. Didn't they understand how fucked up this whole situation was? Shepherd was out there, probably doing something stupidly dangerous, while we all sat around twiddling our thumbs.

Tatty emerged from the kitchen, a steaming mug in her hands. “Here, malysh. Drink this. It will help calm your nerves.”

I accepted the mug, inhaling the rich aroma of spices and herbs. “Thanks, but I don't think tea is gonna cut it right now.”

She chuckled. “Oh, this is much stronger than tea, darling. An old family recipe.”

I took a cautious sip and nearly choked. It tasted like someone had taken every spice in the kitchen, mixed them with honey and vodka, then set the whole thing on fire. Cinnamon, cloves, and something I couldn't even identify exploded across my taste buds.

Nikita, who was apparently Tatty’s husband, roared with laughter and patted me on the back. “That will put some hair on your chest, eh?”

“What is it?” I sputtered, coughing.

Tatty's eyes sparkled with amusement. “Sbiten.”

“An old Russian drink,” supplied Yuri, who was Shepherd’s dad, smoothing down his gray hair. “Good for warming the blood and steadying the nerves.”

“That it is,” Nikita agreed and planted a kiss on Yuri’s cheek, making Yuri blush and roll his eyes.

I took another sip, more prepared this time. The burn was still intense, but now I could appreciate the complex flavors. The honey sweetness hit first, followed by a wave of cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and something peppery that made my tongue tingle. Underneath it all was a hefty kick of alcohol that spread warmth through my chest.

“This is... actually pretty good,” I admitted, taking a larger gulp. The heat pooled in my stomach, chasing away some of the anxiety that had been gnawing at me.

“Well, if you're going to worry in my home, at least let me entertain you while you do it,” Tatty said with a wry smile. She patted the seat next to her on the couch. “Come, sit. Let me read your palm.”

I hesitated, twisting my fingers together. “I don’t believe in that stuff.”

“Humor an old woman, darling,” she said, her green eyes twinkling mischievously.

Fuck it, why not? It's not like I had anything better to do while waiting for Shepherd to get back. I plopped down next to her, holding out my hand.

Tatty’s fingers were surprisingly warm as they traced the lines on my palm. I half expected some mystical bullshit, but her touch was gentle, almost clinical. She hummed softly, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Your life line is strong,” she murmured, tracing a deep curve that arced around my thumb. “But see how it breaks here? You've faced great hardship, yes?”

I swallowed hard, thinking of the years I spent on the streets. “You could say that.”

She nodded, as if confirming something to herself. “But look, it continues on, even stronger. You are a survivor, Eli.”

Her nail skimmed across my palm to another line. “Your head line... interesting. It starts joined with your life line, showing caution in your youth. But see how it branches off? You've learned to think for yourself, to question things.”

I couldn't help but snort. “Yeah, that's one way of putting it.”

Tatty's lips quirked in a small smile. “It's a good quality. Never lose that curiosity.” She moved on, tracing a line that curved up towards my fingers. “Your heart line... ah, this is where it gets interesting.”

“Let me guess, I'm gonna meet a tall, dark stranger?” I drawled, trying to mask my growing unease with sarcasm.

Tatty's eyes glinted with amusement. “Not quite, smart ass. Your heart line is deep and curved, showing strong emotions and passion. But see these little branches? They indicate periods of emotional turmoil.”

No shit. My whole fucking life had been one emotional rollercoaster after another.

“There's a break here,” she continued, her nail tracing a spot near my pinky. “A recent heartbreak, perhaps?”

I tensed, thinking of that night in the factory where I accepted Keres, darkness and all. It hadn’t been easy. I thought I’d lost the man I loved, even if I wasn’t quite ready to put that label on it back then. “Something like that,” I muttered.

Tatty nodded. “But look, it continues on strongly after the break. You've grown from the pain, become stronger.”

I wanted to scoff, to brush off her words as New Age bullshit. But there was something in the way she spoke, a quiet certainty that made me pause. It was like she was reading a book only she could see, deciphering a language written in the lines of my skin.

“Your fate line is interesting,” Tatty mused, tracing a vertical line down the center of my palm. “It starts late, indicating a slow start in life. But it's deep and clear, showing a strong sense of purpose once you found your path.”

I thought about my years on the streets, drifting without direction. And then meeting Shepherd, finding a place with him and his alters. For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere.

“There's a fork here,” Tatty said, her finger tracing another line. “A major decision lies ahead of you, one that will shape the course of your life and the lives of others you hold dear.”

I swallowed hard, thinking of the chaos of the past few days. The cult, Shepherd's family drama, all the secrets and violence swirling around us. Yeah, I'd say some pretty fucking major decisions were looming.

Tatty's eyes met mine, sharp and knowing. “The path you choose will not be easy, malysh. But it will lead you to your destiny, if you have the courage to follow it.”

A shiver ran down my spine. For a moment, the room seemed to fade away, leaving just me and Tatty in a bubble of... something. Not quite magic, but definitely not your average fortune-telling bullshit, either. It was like she was tapping into some ancient wisdom, reading the story of my life in the lines of my hand.

The spell broke as the rumble of an engine cut through the quiet. Shepherd's SUV pulled into the driveway, gravel crunching under its tires.

“Well,” Tatty said, releasing my hand with a pat. “It seems our wanderer has returned.”

I jumped to my feet, nearly knocking over the end table in my haste to get to the door. My heart was pounding, a mix of relief and anxiety churning in my gut.

Shepherd emerged from the SUV, and my breath caught in my throat. One side of his shirt was soaked in blood.

“Holy shit!” I bolted down the porch steps, nearly face planting on a patch of ice. Shepherd stumbled out of the SUV, his face pale.

“I'm fine,” he grunted, but the way he swayed on his feet said otherwise.

“Like hell you are,” I snapped, ducking under his arm to support him. Christ, he was heavy. It was like trying to prop up a tree.

Tatty appeared at my side, her face set in grim lines. “I sent Xander upstairs with the girls. You’re cleared to come into the kitchen.”

We found Warrick waiting for us in the kitchen. The table had been cleared in record time, and Tatty gestured for me to help Shepherd into a chair.

“What happened?” I demanded as we eased him down.

“Xion,” Shepherd grunted. “Kid's got a mean swing with a steak knife.”

Warrick didn't waste any time, his hands moving with practiced efficiency as he cut away Shepherd's blood-soaked shirt. I winced at the sight of three deep gashes across Shepherd's bicep, still oozing blood.

“Damn,” I muttered, feeling queasy. “Your brother did that with a steak knife?”

Warrick's face was a mask of concentration as he cleaned the wounds. “These are deep,” he said, his voice clipped. “You're lucky he didn't hit an artery.”

I watched, fascinated and horrified, as Warrick worked. His hands were steady as he irrigated the wounds with some kind of antiseptic solution that made Shepherd hiss through his teeth. The sharp smell of alcohol and blood filled the air, making my stomach churn.

“Don't be such a baby,” Warrick growled. “You've had worse.”

I couldn't imagine what worse looked like. The gashes were deep enough that I could see glimpses of muscle and fat beneath the torn flesh. It was like something out of a horror movie, except this was real, and it was happening to the man I loved.

I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat. “So I take it the conversation with Xion and Boone didn’t go as we hoped?”

Shepherd's jaw clenched as Warrick started stitching up the wounds. “Xion made his choice. He's staying with Boone.”

“Fuck,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. This was bad. Really fucking bad. “So what now? We just leave him there?”

Shepherd's eyes met mine. There was something cold and hard in his gaze, like all the warmth had been drained out of him. “I forwarded their location to Algerone. I didn’t have much of a choice. He’s organizing a team to fly to Malaysia to extract Dani as we speak.”

“You just gave him up?” Xavier said, hands turning to fists at his sides. “You just handed over my fucking brother like that?”

“Calm down.” Annie put a hand on Xavier’s shoulder. “We’re going to get him back, but it’s going to require a little work on your part.”

I uncrossed my arms. “You want Xander and Xavier to go to him instead of waiting for him to come for them?”

“I want all of us to go,” Shepherd said. “We’ll support Xander and Xavier, but also make it clear that if he tries anything, he’s a dead man. We’re also going to make sure that Xion is free to come and go as he pleases, and is treated with respect and dignity.”

Shit, this was really happening. We were about to walk into the lion's den, and for what? Some twisted family reunion with a guy who sounded like a total psychopath? My stomach churned as I tried to process it all.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” I said, pacing the kitchen. “We're gonna waltz right up to this Algerone dude, hand over Xander and Xavier like some kind of peace offering, demand he let Xion leave when he’s done with his family reunion, and hope he doesn't decide to murder us all on the spot? That's the plan? Do we trust him to do as he’s said, Shepherd?”

Shepherd winced as Warrick tied off the last stitch. “It's not ideal, but it's the best option we've got. If we don't do this, Algerone will come for them, anyway. At least this way, we have some control over the situation.”

“And it keeps him from releasing information to the feds,” Nikita chimed in. “Something this family cannot afford.”

I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the platinum strands. “This is insane. You know that, right? Like, completely off-the-rails bonkers.”

Tatty chuckled, her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something darker. “Welcome to the family, darling. Bonkers is our specialty.”

Great. Just freaking great. I'd gone from living on the streets to being part of some kind of dysfunctional vigilante family straight out of a movie. And now we were about to face off against a guy who made the mob look like boy scouts.

“I say we do it.” Xavier said.

Shepherd frowned. “Xavier, you're sure about this? Once we do this, there's no going back.”

Xavier's smirk faded, replaced by a look of steely determination. “I'm sure. There’s only so much I can learn about the man from behind a screen.”

Shepherd nodded, blowing out a long breath. “If that's what you want, Xavier. But we still need to talk to Xander.”

Tatty pushed herself up from the chair with a grunt, his freshly stitched arm held close to his body. “I'll go get him.”

As he headed for the stairs, I turned back to Xavier. “So, you're okay with this? Meeting your biological dad after all these years, even though he's apparently a grade-A psychopath?”

Xavier's lips quirked in a wry smile. “Okay might be a stretch. More like morbidly curious with a side of deeply conflicted. For better or worse, half of my DNA comes from him. I want to know what that means, you know? “

I nodded and tried to ignore the pang of longing for my own parents. They might’ve disowned me, but I still missed them.

Tatty came back down the stairs with Xander in tow. The usually flamboyant Xander looked uncharacteristically somber, his mouth set in a grim line.

“I'm in,” he said without preamble.

“We haven’t even told you what’s happening yet,” Shepherd said with a frown.

Xander shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. If Xavier’s going, I’m going too. We’re a package deal. Always have been, always will be.”

“Xander, it has to do with Xion,” Xavier said, crossing his arms. “Our dad has him. Our real dad. He wants us too.”

Xander's eyes widened. “Our real dad? The one who knocked up our mom and then ditched her? That dad?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Annie said from the back of the kitchen. “Your father and I have some bad blood between us. I’ve…been keeping him away from you. I didn’t think he would be good for you boys, but you’re adults now and it’s time for you to make that decision. Not me.”

Xander ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in wild spikes. “This is heavy, man. Like, soap opera level drama.” He started pacing, his platform boots clomping on the hardwood floor.

I watched Xander pace back and forth, his brow furrowed in deep thought. The kitchen fell silent except for the rhythmic clomping of his boots. It was weird seeing him so serious. Xander was usually the one cracking jokes, keeping things light even in the darkest situations. But this revelation about their father had shaken him, had shaken all of us.

After a few tense minutes, Xander stopped pacing and turned to face us, his eyes blazing with determination. “Okay, I'm still in,” he repeated, his voice steady. “If this is our chance to finally meet our real dad and get some answers, I'm not gonna pass it up. No matter how crazy or dangerous it might be.”

A look of understanding passed between Xavier and Xander and then they both nodded like an entire conversation had just taken place.

Shepherd pushed himself up from the chair with a grunt, his freshly stitched arm held close to his body. “All right then. If you two are sure, we need to start making a plan. Algerone gave us a deadline, and we're running out of time.”

Warrick stepped forward, his expression grim. “I don't like this. Walking into the unknown, into the lair of a man with Algerone's reputation... It's a huge risk.”

Shepherd nodded, his jaw tight. “I know it's a risk. But it's one we have to take. For Xion, for Xander and Xavier, for our family. We can't let Algerone dictate the terms anymore.”

I chewed on my lower lip, my mind racing. This whole situation was beyond messed up. But as much as I hated to admit it, Shepherd was right. We couldn't just sit back and wait for Algerone to make his move. We had to do something.

“Okay, so what's the plan?” I asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. “We can't just ring this guy's doorbell.”

“No, we can't,” Shepherd agreed. He turned to Warrick. “We're going to need backup. Call River and Paxton and fill them in. We’ll need the extra hands.”

Warrick nodded, already pulling out his phone. “On it.”

“I have some other friends who might be keen to help as well,” Shepherd said. “Bear and his boys in the Revenge Hollow MC still owe me one.”

Annie stepped forward, her eyes hard. “I'm coming with you too.” Shepherd started to protest, but she held up a hand. “Don't even think about telling me to stay behind, young man. This is my mess to clean up. My mistakes led us here. I'll be damned if I let my boys face that monster alone.”

A flicker of pride shone in Shepherd's eyes. “Yes, ma'am.”

“I'll coordinate from here,” Tatty said, “and watch the girls.”

“I have some men available,” Nikita offered.

Yuri grunted and nodded. “If they want to fuck with my family, then let the might of the entire family come down on them.”

Bikers, the Russian mob, and a whole family of murderous vigilantes. We almost had a small army. Maybe it was enough that we’d stand a chance against Algerone and whoever had his back. Maybe.