Chapter 6

SIX

SALEM

T he pounding in my head was relentless as I slowly blinked my eyes open, greeted by the harsh light filtering through the car windows. My mouth felt like sandpaper, every movement sending a wave of nausea coursing through me. Confusion washed over me as I tried to piece together the events of the previous night, my memories muddled and fragmented.

It took a moment for my surroundings to register—Cohen's car, the steady hum of the engine beneath us, the unfamiliar landscape stretching out before us. We were far from the city now, the endless expanse of countryside rolling by in a blur of green and gold. We must have been driving all night. The first rays of dawn now cast a soft glow over the horizon.

I sat up slowly, wincing as the movement sent a sharp pain shooting through my skull. Way to overdo it on the booze, Salem. As memories of last night flooded back, my heart quickened with a mixture of confusion and anger. Cohen practically kidnapped me. That fucker.

A faint scent of leather and old cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the musty aroma of stale coffee and cigarette smoke.

Cohen drove in silence, his sleeves shoved up his arms, revealing sinewy muscles that flexed and strained with each movement. His hands, calloused and weathered, gripped the steering wheel with purpose, his knuckles white with the effort.

I reached down discreetly and pulled the knife from my boot, its familiar weight comforting in my hand. I leaned forward behind Cohen as he drove and pressed the cold blade against his neck. "Where the fuck are you taking me?" I asked, my voice hoarse and raspy.

Cohen glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. He sighed before finally speaking. "For what it's worth, Salem," he began, his voice heavy with emotion, "we wanted to tell you. But Remington is like our brother. In the end, we stuck to his wishes."

I furrowed my brow, confusion giving way to annoyance as I struggled to make sense of his words. "Where are you taking me, Cohen?" I demanded, my voice rising in agitation as I pressed the blade closer.

Cohen hesitated, his hazel gaze flickering away from mine as he turned his attention back to the road. "Where we should have taken you all those months ago," he replied cryptically, his tone tinged with regret.

My heart skipped a beat at his words. Before I could press him further, his phone began to ring incessantly, the shrill sound cutting through the silence of the car. I reluctantly pulled the blade away. Cohen glanced at the screen briefly before dismissing the call with a sigh.

I raised an eyebrow, a sarcastic smirk playing at the corners of my lips. "The others don't agree with this little trip?" I quipped, my words dripping with bitterness.

Cohen's jaw tightened, his expression guarded as he met my gaze in the rearview mirror once again. "They don't want to betray Remi," he replied simply, his voice accented with frustration. "But they'll come around."

He let out a dark laugh before he continued. ″Of course, Mateo has been planning on kidnapping you for months now. He was all for reuniting you with your brother.″

I fell silent at his words. The car rumbled along the empty road; the only sounds were the steady hum of the engine and the occasional chirp of birds in the distance. My head still throbbed with the remnants of last night's indulgence, but beneath the haze of my hangover, a spark of hope flickered to life.

I glanced over at Cohen, studying his profile as he focused on the road ahead. His expression was indecipherable, his features set in a mask of concentration. I took a deep breath, trying to steady the rapid beat of my heart as I gathered the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on my mind since he first mentioned my brother.

"Is it true? Are you taking me to see my brother?" The words slipped past my lips before I could stop them, the hope in my voice betraying the turmoil raging inside me.

Cohen didn't answer right away, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he navigated the winding road. The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy with unspoken tension. I held my breath, waiting for his response, my heart pounding.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Cohen spoke, his voice quiet. "Yes," he said simply, his tone solemn and sincere. "He's alive. I'm taking you to see Remington."

A rush of emotions swept through me at his words—relief, disbelief, and a flicker of cautious optimism. I wanted to believe him, to believe that my brother was alive and waiting for me somewhere out there in the world. But after everything that had happened, after all the lies and betrayal, I wondered if it was too good to be true.

I glanced out the window, watching as the landscape rolled by. The countryside stretched out before us, vast and untamed, a stark contrast to the concrete jungle I called home. It was a reminder of just how far we had come.

As we drove on in silence, my mind raced with questions and doubts. What had happened to Remington? Why had he disappeared without a trace? And why had he kept his survival a secret from me for so long?

I turned to Cohen, searching his face for answers. But he remained stoic, his expression guarded as he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. I muttered a soft ″Thank you,″ and settled back into my seat. The rural road before us was endless and unforgiving, but for the first time in what felt like forever, I dared to believe that there might be light at the end of the tunnel.

As we drove, the scenery outside the car window began to shift, the country paddocks gradually giving way to rolling hills and dense woodlands. The hazy morning light filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the snaking road.

I felt unease creeping over me as the unfamiliar surroundings blurred past us. Turning to Cohen, I voiced the question that had been steadily gnawing away at me.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice full of uncertainty.

Cohen's gaze flickered to me in the rearview. "Remington is in one of our safe houses," he replied, his tone matter of fact. "An untraceable cabin near Fair Haven Beach State Park. About four hours from NYC."

I turned away from Cohen, my thoughts racing as I processed the information. "Does Remington know we're coming?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

Cohen chuckled tenderly, a wry smile on his face. "No, it'll be a surprise," he replied. "We agreed not to go there unless it was an emergency."

His next words took me by surprise, his voice softening with a hint of vulnerability. "I could see you spiraling, Salem," he admitted, his gaze meeting mine in the mirror. "And I consider that reason enough."

His words were an acknowledgment of the turmoil that had consumed me in recent months. At that moment, I realized that despite everything, Cohen was on my side. Or at least he was trying to be.

Cohen's car rolled to a stop in front of the secluded cabin. I peered out of the window, taking in the serene surroundings. Towering trees framed the structure, their branches reaching toward the sky like protective sentinels. The cabin itself had a weathered wooden exterior, which blended seamlessly with the natural landscape. Vines crept up the walls, weaving intricate patterns that added to its rustic charm. It was as if the cabin was a forgotten relic, nestled in the heart of the wilderness—a perfect hideaway for someone presumed dead.

Cohen turned to me, his expression inscrutable, and asked if I was ready. I let out a nervous chuckle, the tension coiling in my stomach, betraying my outward demeanor. "Fuck no," I replied, my voice tinged with uncertainty. Stepping out of the car, I followed Cohen to the front door, my heart hammering.

He rapped on the wood, and the sound echoed through the stillness of the forest. My breath caught in my throat as a voice from within questioned our presence. It was a voice I knew all too well—Remington. I couldn't suppress the gasp that escaped my lips, my pulse quickening at the sound of his voice. Cohen's response was quick. "It's me dickhead," he stated with a note of humor. "Now let us in."

The door creaked open, revealing the figure of my brother standing in the doorway. His dark hair fell in tousled waves, framing his angular face in a way that accentuated his sharp features. Remington's dark brown eyes snapped to mine as I stepped out from behind Cohen.

I could hardly contain the flood of emotions that washed over me. Tears welled in my eyes as I stared at my brother after what felt like an eternity apart. Without a moment's hesitation, I threw myself into his arms, my sobs echoing in the quiet of the cabin. Remington's embrace enveloped me like a lifeline, his warmth and strength grounding me in the midst of my turmoil.

Wordlessly, he led me inside, guiding me to the comfort of the couch, where we sank down together. I clung to him desperately, my tears soaking into his shirt as he whispered soothing words of comfort in my ear. Everything I had been carrying seemed to melt away in his presence, replaced by a sense of security that only he could provide.

"It's true. You're alive," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. Remington's gaze softened, regret flickering in his eyes as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from my face.

"I'm sorry, Salem," he murmured, his voice heavy with guilt.

Cohen watched from an armchair nearby, his expression a mix of concern and relief. As my tears began to subside, I pulled away from Remington's embrace, wiping at my eyes with trembling hands. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I wanted to tell you, but… things got complicated." His words trailed off, and I could sense the unspoken truths hanging between us.

Cohen cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over us. "I should give you two some space," he said, his tone gentle. As he rose from his seat and made his way to the door, Cohen cast a meaningful glance in my direction, a silent reminder that he was there for me if I needed him.

Alone with Remington, I felt a surge of conflicting emotions. Anger, confusion, and relief warred within me as I struggled to make sense of everything that had transpired. But beneath it all, there was undeniable love and joy. My brother was alive.

Remington reached out to take my hand, his touch grounding me. "I know you have questions," he said gently, his eyes meeting mine with unwavering sincerity. "And I promise, I'll answer them all. But for now, let me just enjoy having you here with me."

I nodded, peace settling over me as I allowed myself to lean into the comfort of my brother's presence. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and safety of the cabin, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe , there was hope for a brighter future.

Hours slipped away like fleeting shadows as Remington and I found solace in each other's company. We danced around the topic of our father, both aware of the looming darkness that lingered just beyond our reach. Instead, Remington focused on catching up with me, his genuine curiosity a welcomed distraction from our shared history.

"I knew you and Fallon would be fast friends," Remington said, his voice warm with affection, "tell me everything. I bet you two have gotten into all kinds of mischief together?"

I chuckled softly before I launched into a recount of recent events, sparing no detail as I regaled him with tales of mine and Fallon's adventures and misadventures alike. Remington listened intently, hanging on every word.

As we reminisced, time seemed to melt away. Yet, even in the midst of our laughter and shared memories, the shadow of all my unanswered questions cast a pall over our reunion.

Cohen eventually reappeared, his presence a sobering reminder of reality. With a meaningful glance at Remington, Cohen gently nudged him to confront the truth.

"Remi," Cohen began empathetically, "as happy as I am to see you, I brought Salem here because she needs to know the truth."

Remington's expression softened, and he nodded in understanding, his gaze meeting mine with a silent promise of honesty. With a deep breath, he turned from Cohen to face me. I braced myself for the revelations my brother was about to share.

"I've been working to expose Massimo's crimes for years," Remington explained, his voice low and intense. "But he's always been one step ahead, watching my every move. I knew I had to disappear if I was going to have any chance of bringing him down."

"So you've been working to take down our father this whole time?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Remington nodded solemnly, his gaze never wavering from mine.

"Yeah." His tone was heavy with resignation. "But I underestimated how closely he was watching me. I had to disappear to have any chance of getting the evidence we needed."

My mind reeled at the thought of Remington living in the shadows, finally one step ahead of our father, but at what cost?

"I'm sorry, Salem," Remington continued, his voice laced with regret. "I never wanted things to turn out like this. But I had to make a choice, and I couldn't risk putting you in harm's way by telling you the truth."

A pang of guilt gnawed at my insides as I realized the depth of Remington's sacrifice. He had chosen to protect me, even if it meant sacrificing his own freedom. And yet, I couldn't shake the lingering feeling of betrayal.

"I thought that Massimo would bring Cohen on as his heir," Remington continued. "I had no idea he'd bring you into all this, Salem. I would have never left if I knew he'd make you his heir." His eyes flickered to Cohen briefly before returning to me.

I felt a flood of conflicting emotions welling within me—fury, betrayal, and overwhelming loss. How could Remington have kept me in the dark for so long, leaving me to navigate the treacherous waters of our father's world alone?

But beneath the anger, there was a spark of understanding, a recognition of the sacrifices Remington had made to keep me safe. I knew he had always acted with my best interests at heart, even if his methods left much to be desired.

Remington's expression was full of apology. "I didn't know what else to do, Salem," he said, his voice hoarse. "I had to make a choice, and I couldn't risk exposing you to the danger of knowing I was alive."

I wanted to be mad, to lash out at him for the lies and deception. But as I looked into his eyes, I saw the pain and regret etched into his features, and I knew that he had made the only choice he could.

"I understand," I said finally, my voice barely a whisper. "But that doesn't make it any easier."

Remington reached out to take my hand, his touch a silent reassurance in the midst of the emotional mayhem raging inside me. "I know, Salem," he said softly. "And I'm sorry for everything you've had to endure because of me."

As I looked into my brother's eyes, I saw his guilt mirrored in my own. We had both been pawns in our father's twisted game, but in that moment, I knew that we were in this together. Cohen shifted in his seat, drawing my attention back to him.

"Massimo thinks the guys are responsible for your death," I murmured. Remington's gaze softened, his eyes meeting mine with unwavering sincerity.

"We knew that was a risk," he said simply. ″But I'm sure he didn't spill any tears over my death."

As his words settled over us, Cohen spoke up. "Salem's been helping us with our plans," he disclosed, looking between Remington and me. "Maybe it's time for you to come home, Remi? We can all work together to take them down once and for all."

Remington shook his head, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "It's not that simple, Cohen. Massimo has his fingers in too many pies. He'd know if I stepped even a single foot back in the city, and we would lose our edge. But I agree, it's time to up our game."

I felt a torrent of strength coursing through me. With Remington by our side, I knew we stood a fighting chance, no matter how daunting the task ahead.