Page 29 of Burn Bright (Cobalt Empire #1)

“ Ben ,” Charlie recaptures my attention, unfortunately. “Why her?”

Harriet busies herself with the stack of books, but tension cinches the air.

“She’s my friend,” I defend.

He sets his ass against the armrest. “I’ve seen your phone contacts. You have a million numbers, but why haven’t we met any of your so-called friends besides her?”

“Dealing drugs, baby brother?” Eliot quips, but there is concern behind the joke. Because he’s not sure if it’s untrue.

They don’t know about the Adderall. Just that I beat the shit out of Tate Townsend for what he did to Winona. Yeah, the asshole has a name. I just don’t like remembering it.

“You’ve met my teammates from prep school?—”

“That’s not the same as this,” Charlie cuts me off. “You know this is different. Why her?”

“What’s with the inquisition?”

“There is none,” Beckett says softly. “That’s not what tonight is about.” I believe him, but I also believe they want to dig deeper into what’s going on with me and they’re afraid I’ll bolt if they come at me with every weapon in their arsenal.

They wouldn’t be wrong.

I ease a lot, but Charlie is subzero frost. His cold sights turn on Harriet, and I worry enough that I tell Eliot, “One time, I did deal drugs.” It causes everyone to look at me. “I gave a guy Adderall.”

They go quiet. Motionless. I only hear the crunch of glass under Tom’s sneakers as he shifts his weight.

“To whom?” Eliot asks.

“Tate Townsend. I made a deal to stop him from messing with Winona. It obviously didn’t stick.”

“Shit,” Beckett curses with a deep frown, likely realizing why my rage was a level twelve that night.

Charlie cocks his head. “How’d you get the Adderall in the first place?” I hate how he’s always asking the hardest questions.

“Another friend.” It’s not a total lie. I am friendly with my therapist.

“You conveniently have many of those,” he says as if I’m so transparent.

“Maybe if you had a friend you’d understand,” I counter, the guilt balling up as soon as I launch a mini grenade.

Charlie arches his brows, unaffected. “You’re right, I have none. My definition of friendship differs from yours, and under my definition, I have a feeling you’d have only… one .” He snaps his finger and points at Harriet, then gives her a sardonic wave with the same hand.

She’s stiff as a board on her knees, unsure of what to do.

I rise to my feet and block her from his direct line of sight. Charlie lets out a dry laugh. “You think I’m going to hurt your little girlfriend? All you’re doing is showing me you have another vulnerability. Add that on to the never-ending list of ways to make you cry.”

“Because I’m so easy to attack.”

“Yeah, you are,” Charlie states plainly. “You are so suspectable to manipulation that you got conned into giving some prick Adderall, and he still drugged your former best friend?—”

I shoot forward as rage blisters inside me, but Eliot is fast and captures my shoulders, tugging me away from Charlie who didn’t even flinch. Does Charlie want me to punch him? Is that it? Is he seeking a fist to the fucking face?

“Can we not?” Tom asks him.

I’m zeroed in on Charlie, and if he wants to feel something, then I know exactly where to strike. “The world thinks you’re so much like Dad , but you are a sick, malignant version of him.”

His Adam’s apple bobs, but his face carries no emotion. No response. “I guess that makes you the most pathetic version then.”

“No,” Beckett nearly groans, and I jerk in Eliot’s hold, trying to launch forward to hit my oldest brother. The urge bangs through me like a pinball made of corrosive metal.

Charlie weaves his arms casually over his chest. Then he leans over to peer past my body, eyeing Harriet. “Does this turn you on?” He’s referring to my anger.

“Fuck off,” I growl out.

“I’d say get thicker skin and maybe I will , but I don’t enjoy lacerating fragile things. I prefer ripping into people who can take it.” He’s calling me weak .

“People who can take it,” I repeat hotly.

“Like Moffy?” They’ve been in so many fistfights.

Yet, I’ve never been able to land a blow against Charlie.

I could’ve injured him out of aggravation and pent-up fury so many times, but someone is always there to separate us.

I can’t tell if it’s methodical. If he provokes me during moments where he knows it won’t end in physical violence.

Because when Moffy and Charlie go at it, blood is spilled. And it’s not as if Charlie is more scared of my fists—because our cousin is stronger than me…I guess in every way that matters to Charlie.

His jaw muscle tics. “You love Moffy so much then where is he now?” He makes a mocking show of canvassing the parlor with a cutting gaze. “Maximoff Hale, are you around? Your least favorite cousin wishes you were here.”

Least favorite. I try not to let it sting.

“Moffy loves you,” Beckett tells me with certainty. “Charlie, that’s enough.”

“It’s not even a morsel of what I could do.”

Harriet shoves past me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Charlie only stares at me. “Let her fight for you. Maybe you’ll survive this harsh fucking world if you do.”

I blink a few times, my eyes searing raw. “I’m not defenseless on my own, Charlie. You think I don’t know when I’m being played?”

“If you do know and you willingly walk into a trap, then you’re not just na?ve—you’re a fool .”

They can’t know I’m broke.

Ever.

My muscles cramp.

“Lay off him, Boy Genius.” Harriet glowers.

Charlie barely acknowledges her. “You’re not clever.”

“And I don’t believe you’re that smart,” she retorts. “You’re just a bitter fucking asshole .”

He’s about to respond when a shrill noise blares through the parlor.

WEE-WOO! WEE-WOO!!

It’s a siren. Fuck. My hands fly to my ears, the sound louder than a fire alarm. We’re all on our feet. My first thought is Harriet. She digs the heels of her palms into her ears and jerks her head to the door, signaling me to go. I rush over to it and turn the knob. Locked.

Shit—we’re still locked in here. I rake a hot hand through my hair. Beckett comes beside me, checks the exit too. His mouth is moving, but I can’t hear the words. When he repeats it again, I read his lips, Where is the noise coming from?

I shake my head, scanning the ceiling. Unsure. It’s not an alarm attached to the wall either. No lights are strobing.

Eliot is talking but I can’t hear.

Same with Tom.

Harriet grabs the two slips of paper off the floor. The riddles. If we can solve this, then maybe we can shut off this ear-splitting noise.

“IS THIS PART OF THE ESCAPE ROOM?!” Tom screams at the top of his lungs.

Eliot tries to respond but his words are drowned out.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Tom yells.

Charlie goes to Harriet, which has me striding protectively toward her. He rolls his eyes at me, then glances point-two seconds at the slips of paper like I do.

We’re missing the last piece of the riddle. The tin box—we need to figure out how to open it.

WEE-WOO! WEE-WOO!!!!! Fuck, shit. I grimace as sharp pain stabs my ear. Is it getting louder?

“YOU OKAY?!” I shout at Harriet.

Her face is one giant wince. She’s abandoned the papers just to cover her ears again. I encase my palms over her hands to help muffle the sound.

Her brows knit together in confusion. I read her lips. What about you? She jerks her hands, trying to pull mine off her.

I don’t let her. “I’M OKAY!” I yell, trying to ignore the piercing noise. All I care about is her. All I care about are my brothers. I don’t care what happens to me. I haven’t for a long time…maybe…maybe for my entire life.

She settles down, letting me help her.

Tom and Eliot have resorted to banging their fists on the door. Tom is screaming against the wood. “LET US OUT, YOU FUCKERS!! YOU’RE GOING TO BLOW OUT MY FUCKING EARDRUMS!!”

Even though Tom is a musician, I’m ninety-nine percent sure he wears earplugs on stage, so he’s not used to this violent sound either.

“TOM, STOP!” I yell at him. “JUST COVER YOUR EARS!”

He doesn’t hear me. He’s screaming at the door.

Eliot slams his foot against the wood, trying to physically break it. Beckett has the tin box and tries to crack the lock with a paperclip.

Harriet kicks my shin, stealing my attention. I bend down to her height, and she murmurs into the pit of my ear, “Snake, bat, vampire.” The riddle. She’s trying to decipher the riddle.

I uncover our hands from her left ear and cup my palm around my lips. Whispering back, “Were there any books about animals on the shelf?” I shield her ear again while our gazes veer to the bookcase. A key could be inside the pages.

Just as we set our sights on the bookcase, Charlie yanks open drawer after drawer in the desk until he takes out a stapler. He pops it open, and where there should be a row of metal staples, there’s a slender skeleton key.

He found it.

“THANK FUCKING CHARLIE!” Tom screams in glee, shaking Charlie’s shoulders, practically jumping on his back. Our eldest brother ignores him as he fits the skeleton key in the door. It easily swings open.

The answer was a stapler. I would’ve never guessed that, but I’m just glad the alarm suddenly stops.

My ears ring like I’ve just vacated the front row of a heavy metal concert. I drop my hands off Harriet. Her breathing seems shallow, her neck splotchy with flush, and I recognize we’ve been touching each other a lot more tonight than usual.

“You okay?” I ask again, having trouble even hearing my own voice.

“I’m not the one who just withstood ear-splitting decibels.” She bounces up to her tiptoes, trying to peer into my ears but not getting anywhere close.

A smile toys at my lips. “Trying to give me a check-up, Dr. Fisher?”

“Just making sure you can still hear me, Friend.”

My smile softens on her while she falls flat on her feet. “I can still hear you.” My voice is almost a whisper. Her guards drop, her eyes clinging to mine, and I think about pulling her into my chest. Until she diverts her gaze and gives Charlie a once-over.

Her brows furrow in frustration. “I can’t believe he cracked that without the third clue.” The one from the tin box, she means. We never even opened it.

Charlie isn’t gloating, but Harriet’s scowl has reformed. She even crosses her arms.

“Wish you figured it out first?” I ask.

“A little bit…okay, yeah. It was an easy riddle.” She cringes at herself. “I was thinking about it too literally.”

“I’d still give you a solid A,” I tell her. “And not just because I think you’re cute.”

Her brows spring, and her lips part. A groan rumbles in my chest. She’s fucking adorable, and the thought quadruples when her grouchy disposition returns. “I’d give myself a B minus, and I’d give you an A only because I think you’re hot.”

I laugh hard. “My good looks are really pulling through for me.”

“You are very blessed, Cobalt boy.”

It’s too difficult not to put my hands on her now. I slide my fingers through her bangs, just to see her beautiful stormy eyes fastened on mine. A smile teases her pursed lips. I just slide my hand farther through her choppy blonde hair, then hold the back of her head and bring her into my chest.

I wrap my arms around her small frame in a hug. I don’t even care if she reciprocates, but my mouth curves upward as her arms coil around my waist.

Sherlock Holmes rounds the corner. “Congratulations on escaping The Labyrinth Library! Apologies for the alarm. It’s supposed to trigger when the door is opened by force, but it activated unexpectedly.

And there was no way to disable it without opening the door, which would have broken immersion.

But you all figured it out in the nick of time!

” His smile is forced, and I see a hint of worry behind his eyes.

He knows who we are.

My family has a hundred different lawyers on retainer, and he’s probably crossing his fingers we’re going to walk out of here without trouble. But I doubt any of my brothers will put up a stink about an alarm when they’re usually the ones setting them off.

I only let go of Harriet when Beckett’s bodyguard appears with the basket of phones. I hand hers back to her, then I collect mine and see fifteen missed calls from my little sister.

Blood drains out of my head.

“Fuck,” I mutter, my pulse accelerating. This many incessant calls from Audrey means something is wrong. Four or five and maybe it wouldn’t be anything dire, but fifteen? If she were in serious trouble, she’d call all our brothers, especially Charlie and Eliot.

My brothers check their phones, but no one seems distraught or panicked. Eliot even listens to his missed texts and grins.

I keep my phone in my fist, then spin to Harriet as she goes to grab her messenger bag. “Hey, can you give me ten minutes? I need to call my sister back.”

“Yeah, sure.”

I head out to use the bathroom for privacy, but when I step through the doorway, I hear Beckett say, “What’s wrong, Tom?”

My stomach nosedives. Rotating back, I see Tom clutching at his throat. “I fucked up,” he croaks. “Beck—” His voice cracks. Panic lances his widening eyes. He’s the lead singer in his band.

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuck. Wind is knocked out of my chest, and it takes everything to reach the bathroom in one choked breath.

The door swings shut behind me.

I don’t call my sister right away.

I brace my hands on either side of the sink.

What the fuck…what the fuck? A raging anxious heat swarms me.

Sweat quickly builds up on my forehead, and I yank at the collar of my shirt.

Suffocating—am I suffocating? Why is it so fucking hard to breathe?

I intake an unsteady one and splash water on my face.

Groaning out, I try to calm down, but I can’t…

I can’t because all I’m thinking about is how Tom likely just damaged his vocal cords.

I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t be here.

This wouldn’t have happened if I stayed at the apartment.

Folding my arms on the rim of the sink, I press my forehead to them, feeling ill.

It’s so dumb.

I’m being fucking dumb. This isn’t my fault. This isn’t my fault. But I caused this. Being here caused this. There are consequences to everything.

Hot tears burn the creases of my eyes. “Stop,” I grit at myself. “ Stop .”

Now I’m on my knees, and I’m puking in the porcelain bowl. I white-knuckle the top of the toilet, my insides on fire. All of me is trying to turn inside-out. I try to think of Harriet.

I didn’t hurt her.

I haven’t hurt her at least.

Harriet.

With a few deep breaths, I begin to slowly…so very slowly…calm down. I spit, then wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and hang my head. Breathing. I’m just trying to breathe.