Page 33 of Burn Bright (Cobalt Empire #1)

I called him a sick, malignant version of Dad and he called me a pathetic one, so I’d say we’re doing great. Exactly what any parent would want for their two sons. Sign us up for a three-legged sack race together and we’d most definitely face-plant off the starting line.

It’s hard to muster a cheery lie, but there is a silent understanding between me and all my siblings that we don’t tattle to our parents.

We’re not five years old. They don’t need to know Charlie’s an absolute demon—and truthfully, I don’t want them to know. A part of me truly believes they’d brush away his comments. Make an excuse for him. They haven’t yet, but that’s because I haven’t given them the chance.

“It’s been okay with Charlie,” I tell her. “They all just met a friend of mine tonight.”

“From hockey?”

“No, I haven’t tried out for the team yet, but she goes to MVU.”

Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “She?”

I smile wider. “Yeah, my friend is a girl?—”

“Ben.” Beckett pounds a fist at the bathroom door.

“I have to go,” I tell her quickly, hoping she can’t hear the urgency in Beckett’s tone. “They must be ready to leave.”

“I love you, sweet gremlin.”

“Love you too, Mom.” I hang up just as Beckett knocks again. When I open the door, the distress on his face crushes me.

“Harri—” He doesn’t finish saying her name before I’m wrenched into the hallway by my own concern.

“Where is she?” I thought leaving her with my brothers would be fine. Beckett snatches the back of my T-shirt, stopping me short, and I twist out of his grip.

We’re face-to-face when he holds up his hands to try and calm me. “Just take a breath, Pip.”

I said the same thing to Audrey.

But I’m not crying.

I’m not sobbing.

No one has died—right?

“What the fuck happened, Beck?” I ask. “Where’s Harriet?”

He keeps a hand raised as if he’s anticipating I’ll react poorly. Her leather jacket is draped on his forearm. Everything dials up my concern to new, unstable heights. “She ran off?—”

That’s all I hear before I’m sprinting to the front door. I push it open and meet the New York night with angered footfalls. Bodyguards stand on the wet sidewalk with the rest of my brothers as light rain mists the air. I’m lasered in on just one person.

The guy smoking a cigarette next to a lamp post.

The guy rolling his eyes as soon as he sees me approach.

The guy who I know had something to do with this.

“Charlie!” I scream. “What the fuck did you do?!”

He flicks his cigarette to the pavement and casually scuffs it with his polished shoe.

I’m ten feet from him when Eliot and Tom sidestep in front of me, and all I want to do is bulldoze.

Rage rips through my body, and I am ready to unleash.

But Eliot’s hands fly to my chest, and he’s the only brother who’s strong enough to physically restrain me.

“Stop.” Eliot’s urgency elevates my pulse. I shove him, and he grasps the side of my neck, pinning me closer to his chest.

“ Eliot .”

“You can come to blows with Charlie later. There’s no time.”

“Harriet ran away,” Tom rasps out in a faint whisper. “She was sobbing. I couldn’t catch up to her. She’s little but she’s fucking fast.” He grumbles the words speed demon .

My fury fractures into a new focus. “I need to find her.” I pull away from Eliot and turn in the direction of the nearest subway station.

“Ben Pirrip!” Tom strains his voice, which stops me in place.

My eyes burn. “Don’t hurt yourself for me.” Please.

Tom just points to one of the two identical Range Rovers parked at the curb. Security vehicles. Some of my brothers use their bodyguards as private chauffeurs. Riding in their car isn’t the better option for multiple reasons—the main one being it’s slower .

“If we hit traffic, I’m fucked,” I tell them.

“You might get mobbed on the subway,” Eliot explains. “If someone recognizes?—”

“No one recognizes me, man,” I interrupt. I’m not my brothers. I won’t get spotted that easily.

“Yeah, but they might recognize me,” Tom rasps.

“And me,” Eliot adds. “We’re coming with you, whether you like it or not.”

Jesus. Fuck. Fine.

My head spins, but I’m on autopilot. I hop into the Range Rover, and when Tom follows me, he flips the seat to crawl into the third row. Then Eliot locks it back upright. He slips next to me in the second row. Barely a heartbeat later, Beckett climbs into the car and sits on my other side.

As the passenger door jerks open, I blink a couple times to make sure I’m seeing correctly.

Charlie is suddenly sitting in the front seat without a single glance backward. As if it’s reasonable for him to be in this car with me.

It feels so seamless. Like there was never any question. My four brothers were always going with me to find Harriet. My nerves haven’t calmed. I don’t think they will until I see her.

Who’s driving? The mystery is solved quickly as Charlie’s bodyguard gets behind the wheel.

Oscar Oliveira is a thirty-four-year-old seasoned pro, a Yale graduate, an ex-professional boxer, and one of my family’s favorites in security.

Seriously, I think my dad would rather saw off an arm than fire Oscar.

He’s the only bodyguard that’s been able to last on Charlie’s detail. All the others quit or were canned.

Oscar has a loose grip on the wheel, the sleeves of his white button-down rolled to his strong forearms. He’s Brazilian-American with golden-brown skin and dark curly hair, and I’m sure this is just another hectic Cobalt night. He’s unfazed.

He gazes through the rearview, meeting my eyes. “Where are we headed, Ben?”

I tell him Harriet’s address from memory, then I crane my neck behind me and peer past Tom. Seeing the second Range Rover through the back windshield. Our other bodyguards pile into the vehicle and peel out onto the street as Oscar relays the destination through their radios.

They end up following us though. Once we’re on the road, everyone is so fucking quiet, my ears start ringing again.

I’m about to speak, but Tom shifts forward to croak out, “See, this is why you don’t open umbrellas indoor, Eliot Alice. Bad shit follows. I’m probably going to lose my voice forever .”

Nausea churns.

Beckett gives him a look. “You’re going to lose your voice because you keep talking.”

“No, let’s blame the umbrella,” Charlie says, sarcasm thick. “Because that’s definitely what made him scream like a banshee for five minutes straight.”

“You were timing me?” Tom rasps. “He was timing me?” he asks Eliot.

“Brother, I love you,” Eliot says, “but shut up. For your own sake.”

Tom slides back in his seat with a heavy sigh, and I crack my stiff neck, my nerves tensing every inch of muscle. “Is anyone going to tell me what happened?” I ask. “I wasn’t in the bathroom that long.”

“I don’t know, dude,” Tom whispers, his voice getting softer. “She ran out of the building crying. That’s all I saw.”

“Likewise,” Eliot says. “They weren’t tears of joy either.”

My stomach knots, and while I talk, I send her a text, asking where she is. “What was she running away from?”

Beckett takes a deep, readying breath. “She was in the parlor with Charlie before she ran out. He won’t tell me what happened.” He glares at the back of Charlie’s headrest, and I wonder if this has been a point of contention.

I lean forward, prepared to stick my head between the driver and passenger seat to strangle my eldest brother. “So you did do something,” I accuse as both Eliot and Beckett pull me back against the seat.

Of my brothers, I’m the most hot-tempered, and that’s very blatant tonight. Hockey used to help—I blew off a lot of steam on the ice. I just let all the tension go.

That outlet is gone, and my fuse has been cut shorter.

“I did nothing.” Charlie rotates in his seat to face us. “And like I told Beckett, I’m not in the mood to recount the events of tonight. She’s your so-called friend. If she wants to tell you, she can. Otherwise, I guess we’ll never know what happened in the Library.”

“I bet it was Professor Plum with a candlestick,” Eliot quips. “That purple bastard.” His attempt at eradicating the animosity falls flat with me. Charlie cracks a smile though, and it ramps up my festering anger even more.

I’m hanging on to something he said. So-called friend. Charlie doesn’t mince words. He says exactly what he means.

“She’s my friend,” I tell him. “There’s nothing so-called about it, Charlie.”

“Whatever you say.” He flips on the radio. Soft pop fills the car, and I can’t stop thinking about how Charlie didn’t even tell Beckett what went down. Why? Who the hell is he protecting? I’d say himself, but Charlie has never cared about being painted as a villain.

He’s never given a shit what people think about him.

I rest my forearms on my thighs, feeling winded. I’m not sure interrogating Charlie will get me anywhere. I just need to find her.

Beckett has a hand on my back. It’s calming, and I take a few deeper breaths. I’ll find her , I assure myself.

I’ll find her. Because I’m not stopping until I do.

No one talks the rest of the way. Mostly so Tom quits interjecting. We help save his voice for him, and when Oscar pulls up next to the apartment building, I’m already unclipping my seatbelt before he even brakes.

“All of you stay here,” I tell them as Eliot unbuckles too.

He reluctantly nods. “As you wish.”

Beckett locks eyes with me. “Let us know if you find her.”

“Yeah, I will.” The car rolls to a dead-stop, and as I grab the handle, Oscar says, “Wait for your bodyguard. The other vehicle is stuck at a red light.”

I don’t have time to wait. Shaking my head, I open the door.

“Ben!” Oscar yells, and I just barely hear him mutter, “Novak is going to love this,” before I launch myself toward the brick apartment complex. It’s about a third the size of the luxury high-rise I’m living at. Chunky AC units stick out from windows, and the fire escape looks rusted.

Less than a minute later, I’m inside the echoey building and waiting for an elevator. I’m so focused that it takes me a second to realize Charlie has strolled up next to me. Oscar lingers behind, speaking hushed in a mic at his collar.

I frown at my brother. “I told you to stay in the car.”

“And I didn’t. Whoops.” His sarcasm surprisingly doesn’t grate on me.

I have a feeling he jumped out of the car so Oscar could follow.

So I could have security by proxy just being around him.

Still, he’s being eyed by a young white woman who grabs mail from a brass 92 box.

I figure she’s trying to place where she knows Charlie from.

He notices her, then holds out his hand to me. “Give me your hat.”

I pull my baseball cap out of my back pocket and unfold it into his hand.

Putting it on, he dips the brim down over his eyes. It’s not a great disguise, but not the worst either. I study him. How he angles his body but strangely braces more weight on his right leg—the one he’s had surgery on. And are his knees wet?

Since he wears black pants, I can’t tell exactly, but glass had been scattered all over the parlor, so… “Are you bleeding?”

“It’s nothing.” His cold gaze is cemented on the elevator.

Oscar sends Charlie a seriously concerned look.

I wonder if he’s already spoken to my brother about the issue.

Because Oscar remains quiet, then faces forward again.

They have a closer relationship than I have with Novak, and it’s not strange to think Oscar might know things about my brother that I don’t, considering he’s with him nearly all day, every day.

We don’t say anything else. Not even when we reach Harriet’s apartment.

I knock on the door, my pulse on a fiery ascent.

Maybe it’s good Charlie is here. If he did something, he can apologize. He can make it right…not that he’s ever been good at either of those things.

No one answers. Shit, she has to be here. I don’t know where else I would search otherwise. I run a hand through my hair and knock again. The door swings open to reveal a tall girl in a polka dot pajama set. Her dark bangs are pinned back with silver clips, and her eyes go as round as her mouth.

“Oh my fucking God .” She’s staring right at my brother, and it’s almost laughable how bad my baseball cap hid him.

He forces a tight smile.

She gasps like he dropped on one knee.

“You’re Eden, right?” I cut in. “Harriet’s roommate.”

Her jaw drops even farther when she swings her gaze to me. “You know my name?”

“Is Harriet home?” I ask as Eden opens the front door wider for us. I step inside, but my brother stays back like he’s some immortal vampire who hasn’t been invited in yet.

“She’s not here,” Eden says, quickly pulling out the clips from her hair. She brushes her bangs down with her fingers.

“Can I check her room just in case?” I ask.

Eden frowns. “She sleeps on the couch.” She points to the lumpy lime-green sofa in the middle of the living room. “She’s renting the pull-out.”

My stomach nosedives. I’m sleeping on a couch too, so I don’t know why Harriet crashing every night on one is driving more worry into me. I also don’t know why I assumed that she shared a room with her roommate. Like a dorm. Bunk beds…I never actually went into the bedroom, I realize.

“Do you know where she could be?” I ask.

Charlie’s leaning a hip in the doorway, listening to everything. Probably analyzing all the ways in which I don’t know Harriet that well. But he’d be wrong. So I didn’t know she was sleeping on a fucking couch? She doesn’t know I’m sleeping on one too. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Noooo,” Eden draws out the word, her eyes pinging from me to Charlie like she’s etching this in her memory. “To be honest, I don’t talk much with Harriet. We kind of keep to ourselves. How do you know her anyway?”

“College,” I say vaguely, then I remember something. Harriet lived out of her car. If she needed to go somewhere more private than a shared living room, I bet it’d be there.

I turn back to Eden as the lightbulb moment surges hope through me. “Does your apartment come with a parking spot?”