15. Quentin

I stare at the Duke,who is my father, and wait for him to start speaking. The silence that stretches between us is heavy, loaded with all the years of abandonment—if you can call it that—the hurt and the confusion that's followed me like a nightmare. He clears his throat, but I can tell this isn't easy for him either.

"We've lived separate lives for too long," he begins, his voice formal, but I detect something softer underneath it.

"Don't," I cut him off sharply. "Don't try to put this right with words. You lost that right a long time ago."

He sighs, and I can see it's taking every ounce of control he has not to react in kind. "I understand your anger, Quentin, and I know there's nothing I can do to change the past or take away the pain you suffered..."

"You're damn right you can't." My voice is cold, cutting through the tense air like a blade.

"But perhaps there's a way forward." He pauses, studying me as if trying to map out my soul.

I snort at that. Trust? Cooperation? With the man who was indirectly responsible for my fucked-up childhood?

"What do you propose?" I ask, not because I believe there's anything he could say to make up for everything but because part of me – that screwed-up part that still longs for some semblance of family – wants to hear what he has to say.

"I want you by my side. In this family, in this business..." He trails off for a moment and then adds, "As my son."

The laugh that escapes me is harsh and devoid of any humour. "You think it's that easy? You just snap your fingers, and I come running like some lost puppy? That ship sailed a long fucking time ago."

The Duke's face hardens slightly, the front of paternal concern slipping. "I'm not asking, Quentin. I am offering you a place that is rightfully yours, but it comes with responsibility and loyalty."

I let out a bitter chuckle, my anger simmering just below the surface. "Loyalty is earned, not demanded. And as for responsibility, don't worry about me—I've been handling mine since I could bloody walk." I stand up to leave, my patience wearing thin.

"Just think about it," he says, his voice losing its edge. "That's all I ask." There's a brief moment where I see something genuine in his eyes—it throws me off, makes me pause. But I shake it off quickly enough.

"I'll think about it," I lie, because what I really want to say is fuck you and all this mafia bullshit. But part of me knows that's not entirely true either. There's something dark and twisted inside me that craves this connection, this power. "I'll think about it, if you answer me this. Why didn't you find me?"

His face turns to one of shock and then a deep pain that makes me stumble back slightly. "Do you think we didn't try? We never stopped. Never. The Forsaken took you out from under our noses. A private hospital with more security than Fort Knox. That nurse…" he spits out the word with so much venom that I might start to come around a little at being so hard on him. He composes himself and continues. "That nurse, she was a professional and took you in the middle of the night when you were in the NICU. You were both so small, born too early, even for twins. We didn't even know if you were going to make it. She took you, and we scoured the world looking for you but didn't even know if you had survived. Your mother never really got over it. Neither of us did. We tried, every day. We had leads that came to nothing, we had people coming forward with false information getting our hopes up. For all the fucking power we have, it wasn't enough to find you."

Silence descends. The chilling kind. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

I want to be mad still, want to hate him for all the shit I went through, but his words punch holes in my walls. He looks old suddenly, tired and worn out from a lifetime of this heavy shit. The silence stretches again, filled with more emotion than it can hold.

"Fine," I finally grunt, turning away from him to hide my confusion. "I'll think about it. That's the best you're going to get."

I leave the room without another word, closing the door behind me with a quiet click. Callum is waiting for me outside, his expression blank as he stares at me.

"You good?" he asks.

"Yeah," I lie again because what else am I supposed to say? That every word our father said struck a chord deep within me? That there's a sick part of me that wants to accept his offer, to immerse myself in the family fully instead of being half-in, half-out and taking the money but nothing else.

"No, not really," I admit after a long pause. "But it's nothing new."

Callum nods, understanding without needing further explanation. That's the thing about having a twin, even one you've just met; sometimes, they just get it. He slaps his hand on my shoulder, and we turn, ready to find Vogue and forget about this shit for a while. Harry lingers at the bottom of the stairs as Thayer comes down slowly.

"Vogue's sleeping," he murmurs. "We need to leave her for a bit."

"Yeah," I say, disappointment crashing into me, but she is exhausted. She needs to rest more than I need to be with her.

"Boys," Aaron's voice booms as he walks towards us. "Come with me."

We exchange glances but follow him into the enormous living room, which opens out onto a landscaped garden and swimming pool, glowing blue under the autumn sun.

"Sit."

We do as instructed as Dad joins us, looking for all the world like he has been crying. Callum gazes at him with a fierce frown before flicking me a grim glare that makes me feel bad. But come on, for fuck's sake. I've suffered plenty because of this fucked-up shit.

"If you think for one second you are going to all pack up and leave Crestmont behind because Vogue has, you have another fucking thing coming," Aaron states, arms folded. "That is a big asset of ours, and it's your fucking responsibility to play it to the maximum capability."

"We weren't going to stay there without Vogue," Callum has the balls to say.

Aaron fixes him with a menacing glare. "Oh, but you will. Live here, live there, I don't give a flying fuck, but you four will get your asses back on that campus tomorrow morning bright and early to cajole, coax, seduce, bribe, however, you want it to play, every single student there until there is nothing left but The Crowned Syndicate. Got it?"

Callum's jaw tightens, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "Yeah, we got it," he bites out, his voice laced with an edge that's as sharp as a blade. Harry and Thayer nod in silent agreement, their expressions grim.

Aaron's gaze lingers on each of us, like he's engraving the command deep into our skulls. "Good," he says flatly. He turns to leave but then pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. "Vogue will remain here until I have trained her enough to deposit her straight back onto campus under cover as a TA. By the time that happens, you four need to have a little group of protégés under your wings to take over when you leave next summer."

"Understood," I murmur, just for something to say and to remind myself that I'm still here and not drifting off into the abyss where the darkness lies in wait to pull me under.

Once Aaron and the Duke leave, a heavy silence falls over the room.

"Fuck," Harry mutters, running a hand through his hair. "That wasn't entirely unexpected, but he is not happy with us."

Thayer stands up abruptly. "We better figure out how we're going to handle this." His voice is cool and collected, but there's an underlying tension that suggests he's just as pissed off as the rest of us.

Callum nods, standing up to face us squarely. "Tonight, we strategize. We'll find a way to work around Aaron's demands without fucking up our own lives."

I nod along with the others. It's clear as day that none of us wants to play Aaron's game, but we don't have much choice in the matter—not if we want to keep Vogue safe and maintain whatever semblance of control we have over our own lives.

A phone buzzing cuts through the silence.

Harry pulls it out and glares at it. "Gotta go. Family business."

"Well, Aaron can't argue with that," I mutter. "Go. We've got this."

He nods and pockets his phone, heading for the door as the three of us slump down and try to come up with a plan to get our shit in a heap after it's been splattered all over.