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I pushed over a glass of ice water and two white pills, which Tully took. She smothered a wince as she lifted her arm to take them. Had Chase hurt her worse than she admitted? I wished I could ask her the truth, but it wasn’t my place.

I cleared my throat. My dad trailed off with a slight frown.

“Mom, Dad, this is Tully Hartlock.”

Tully gave a lackluster wave.

“We know of you.” My mom offered a tight smile.

I flushed from the bitchy response, and Tully let out a snort. My dad spared her a brief nod and my embarrassment turned to indignation. Who did they think they were? Tully’s fig and honey scent turned bitter as she put down the cup and wandered over to the couch. Pan’s gaze bounced from her bare feet, over the oversized shirt and back again.

He drank her in as if parched.

My brother never looked fazed, even when he was leaping headfirst into hedonism. But now he did. His jaw tightened as he recognized the shirt was mine. I nudged Tully into the seat beside me, letting my thigh press against her. A reaction to the bubbling disapproval emanating off Tully.

“Ajax, you’re not at work today?” My mother asked.

Tully clicked her tongue. “You plan your visits when only one son is available?”

Why do you only care about Pan?

Pan and I heard the unspoken words. My brother had an uncanny ability of pasting a sneer over every crack of composure, but not now. His lips trembled and his knuckles went white. His bubblegum scent flooded the room, sickly sweet, enough to choke us all.

My mom’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t respond. She turned to Pan and continued their conversation like Tully hadn’t even spoken.

“Pan, did you read the email I sent about the sponsorship? Kieran wants you to succeed, just like we do, but you need to give him an answer.”

“For the hundredth time, I’m not interested,” Pan hissed, low like a snake getting ready to strike. He was close to exploding, and they didn’t even realize it.

“But you look so much better, minus the tattoos, of course, those can always be removed.” My mother nudged a plate of treats toward him.

They must have produced those when I left the room. My parents were always careful not to offer me too much food.

“It’s a great opportunity, son,” my father prodded.

“Did you attend the gala?” Tully interjected when Pan seemed disinclined to answer.

My mom waved an elegant hand, her perfect nails glinting under the light.

“The Mythos family tries not to get involved in politics. We’re a family known for our musical talents. Well, some of us. We were disappointed you didn’t perform, Pan.”

I’d shown no talent in any instrument at all, not like Pan.

“Oh? What do you play?” Tully asked, but there was no genuine interest in her tone. She was ramrod straight, with her hands knotted together on her lap.

“We’re both appreciators of the arts,” my dad replied stiffly.

“So, you don’t play?” Tully said.

“Pan’s father was a piano player, and unfortunately, he passed away before he saw his son fulfill his destiny.”

It was hard to forget Hermes Mythos, the larger-than-life alpha who fathered Pan. That was the thing about packs. There were children who didn’t all share the same father and mine was just as untalented in the arts as I was. Somehow, Hermes’s legacy overshadowed everything else, even though he’d been dead for ten years. A heart attack.

“What’s Pan’s destiny?” Tully crossed her leg, and the shirt rode up her shapely thigh. My dad saw it and failed to cover his sneer.

“He’s going to return to work with his mentor, Kieran, and commit himself to his craft. The path he was on before he…” My mom wrinkled her nose.

Pan leaped from his chair and dragged his hands through his hair.