7. Raven

7

RAVEN

I storm into the kitchen. "What the hell is going on here? And don't you fucking dare try to keep me out of it this time."

"Ray…" Hawk eyes me.

"Don't even. If you three are in trouble?—"

"Fuck, Raven," Eagle says, his eyes wide. "Anyone can hear you."

"Dad's in his office, and Mom's out."

"There's still the housekeeper," Falcon says. "You need to leave us to this."

"Oh, is that why you're talking in the kitchen, where no one ever goes?" I say sarcastically.

"Ray, just go upstairs." Hawk props himself against the fridge, his arms folded across his chest.

"And why should I?" I shoot back. "You lied to me, Hawk. And you never lie."

Hawk rubs his forehead, but he doesn't say anything.

"He didn't lie," Falcon says.

"He did!" I poke Hawk in the chest. Hard. " He said everything was fine, even though I specifically heard otherwise." I turn to Falcon. "I chose to believe you. To believe my brothers. But here you are again, and this time you say you need Savannah's brother to help you?" I shake my head. "Everything is not fine, Falcon. Everything is not fine."

Falcon opens his mouth, but I hold up a hand.

"No. Don't go there. Don't play the ‘oh, Ray, you're still recovering from cancer' card. I won't put up with it. Something's going on with you three—something that caused you to go to prison, Falcon—and if you don't tell me what it is, I swear to God I'll go straight to Dad."

The room falls into a tense silence, the tick-tock of the kitchen clock loudly echoing. My brothers exchange uneasy glances, their faces etched with conflict and worry.

Eagle finally breaks the silence, his voice unsteady. "There's nothing to tell, Raven. It's just…trivial brother stuff."

"And I'm not part of it?" I snap back, my heart pounding. "You're not even trying to come up with a better lie."

"Raven…" Hawk begins, his gaze softening.

For a moment, I see a trace of regret in his eyes before he retreats behind his usual fa?ade of authority. "It's not that we want to exclude you. It's just…"

"Just what?" The question hangs heavy in the air as I fix each of them with a piercing stare.

Falcon sighs and sinks into a chair, running his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry. But you can't be a part of this. You're better off not knowing."

"I'll be the judge of that." I plunk my ass into the kitchen table chair opposite Falcon. "Start talking or I'm going to Dad."

"Fuck." Eagle runs his fingers through his hair. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

My youngest brother is trembling.

He was my baby when we were little. I was his protector. I took care of him while Robbie and the other two boys were out roughhousing.

He's distraught. And I want to help.

Desperately.

"Listen, it's not that we don't trust you." Falcon begins, his voice filled with regret. "It's just that this situation is dangerous."

"And we're trying to protect you." Hawk adds.

"Protect me?" I narrow my eyes at them. "I don't need protection."

"But you do, Ray!" Hawk says, frustration oozing out of him. "Whether you want it or not!"

Silence except for the rustle of leaves against the kitchen window.

"All right," I finally say, my own anger ebbing away in the face of their distress. "If you don't want me to help because you think it's too dangerous, then fine. But at least tell me what's going on."

My brothers look at each other. Finally, Falcon speaks. "We need to go outside."

"Fine by me." I rise and head out the French doors leading to our wraparound redwood deck. In the distance is the pool house.

My brothers follow me out in silence. Falcon steps in front of all of us, hands shoved in his pockets. He looks at Hawk and Eagle, a long look that seems to hold silent communication. They nod back.

"Okay," Falcon begins. "I won't sugarcoat it. We're in deep shit."

I frown at him, but I don't say anything. They're struggling with this, so I'll let them talk at their own pace.

"This has something to do with the time you spent in prison, doesn't it?" I say to Falcon. "I heard that much yesterday. Hawk said you did time for a crime you didn't commit."

He flinches slightly, his eyes drifting from my face over to the horizon. The tension in his shoulders seems to grow even tighter. "Yes," he admits quietly.

"Well, what is it?" I demand.

Eagle starts pacing, biting on the skin around his thumb. It's a habit he developed as a kid when he was nervous or scared or unsure. Seeing him resume such a childhood behavior now unsettles me more than Falcon's admission.

"I always knew you didn't kill that cop," I say. "We all knew it. But you went behind bars anyway. Who the hell were you protecting, Falcon?"

But as Eagle's eyes brim with tears, I realize I already know the answer.

"Oh, E…" I say.

But Falcon's phone interrupts us.