Page 129 of The Brothers Hawthorne

“Blake’s still in surgery.” Her voice grew hoarse. “It’s taking too long. The doctors won’t tell me anything. I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

The death of Vincent Blake would be no great tragedy. He was a bad man, a dangerous man. Grayson steeled himself against Eve’s tone and focused on theonlything he had to say to her. “I warned you to stay away from my sisters.”

“I haven’t done a damn thing to your sisters.” Eve was an easy person to believe. True liars always were.

“You sicced the FBI on their mother.” Grayson’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “You said it yourself: If Vincent Blake dies tonight, there won’t be anything holding you back.”

“I say a lot of things, Grayson.”

His chest tightened, but he didn’t give her the courtesy of a reply.

“Forget it,” Eve bit out. “Forget I called. Forgetme.I’m used to it.”

“Don’t, Eve.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t bleed for me. Don’t show me your wounds and expect me to tend to them. I’m not playing that game with you again.”

“Is it so hard to believe that I’m not playing?” Eve asked. “Vincent Blake is my family, Grayson. And maybe you think I don’t deserve one. Maybe I never did. But can you at least believe me when I say that I don’t want to be alone right now?”

Grayson remembered calling her Evie. He remembered the girl he’d thought she was. “You have Toby. He’s your father.”

For the longest time, there was silence on the other end of the line. “He wishes I was her.”

For Eve, there was only oneher. Eve was Toby’s daughter biologically, but Avery was the one that Toby had watched out for longer, the one whose mother he’d loved with that once-in-a-lifetime, undying, ruinous, Hawthorne kind of love.

“I’m not your person, Eve. You don’t get to call me. You don’t get to ask me for anything.”

“Message received. I don’t matter. Not to you.” Eve’s voice went dangerously low. “But believe me, Grayson, I will.”

She ended the call—or maybe he did. Either way, Grayson drove the rest of the way to the airport unable to shake the feeling that he’d just made another mistake.

Who would he lose this time?

Trying to banish that question, Grayson parked the Ferrari in long-term parking, left the key under the mat, and sent a text to the contact who’d provided him with it documenting its return. And then, staring down at his phone, he thought about everything that had happened, all of it, since he’d come to Phoenix. He thought about everything that had happened before that.

Look where repressing my emotions got me before.Grayson knew better now—or at least, he was supposed to. If he couldn’t stop making mistakes, he could at least stop making the same ones, again and again.

He could admit this time that, like Eve, he didn’t want to be alone.

Letting out a long, slow, painful breath, Grayson sent a text message to his brothers. No words, three numbers.

911.

CHAPTER 87

JAMESON

Jameson found Katharine and Rohan outside, near the cliffs. The older woman’s hand was extended, the silver ballerina lying flat on her palm.

“Give me the mark.” Katharine’s words were nearly lost in the wind, but a moment later, the wind stopped suddenly and completely.

“I’m afraid that’s not how this works.” Rohan’s white dress shirt was untucked and unbuttoned nearly halfway down. Something about the way he was standing reminded Jameson of the chameleon he’d met outside the club—and the fighter he’d met in the ring.

“You said that whoever brought you what was in the final box would win the game and receive the mark.” Katharine straightened.

“Technically,” Jameson put in, strolling toward the two of them, a rakish smile on his face, “that isn’t what he said. I believe the exact words were:Two boxes with secrets. In the third, you’ll find something much more valuable. Tell me what you find in the third box, and you’ll win the mark.”