Page 39 of The Shape of my Scar (The Unbroken #1)

T he chime of the bell announced their arrival.

Though they had never met, Faolan remembered their faces like it was yesterday. Over the years, there had been times when curiosity got the better of her. They were not on social media, but as a police officer, she had ways to keep track of their lives.

But looking on from a distance and looking into their eyes were two very different things.

Faolan was curled into the corner of the oversized armchair, her bare feet tucked under her, her hand absently stroking the edge of a throw blanket.

The book lay open across her lap, her thumb holding the pages in place as she reread the same paragraph for the third time.

Thane, who had been lounging against the doorframe leading to the hall, stood taller the moment the door opened, as though guarding his territory.

Six-foot-three of silent threat, broad and coiled, with that now-familiar stillness he wore like a second skin.

They were his brothers, but Faolan was…more.

Zel prowled in first. He was as tall as Thane with his blonde hair tamed, not a hair out of place.

Thane had mentioned he was the strategist of the team…

liked everything just so. He was built like a boxer, with broad shoulders made for impact and eyes such a pale shade of brown, they were almost yellow.

Eagle-eyes swept over Faolan, softened and stayed.

He didn’t say much, just nodded once jerkily before making himself comfortable on the sofa.

Faolan knew that when he spoke, people listened. And he rarely spoke.

Maro brought up the rear.

He didn’t enter so much as fill the space.

He was thicker than the rest. Swarthy skin inked in swirls and runes and lines of fury. His eyes were obsidian and constantly scanning his surroundings. His stare dragged over her face, lingered. When he laid eyes on her, his eyes widened and he ran an unsteady hand over his shorn hair.

“Out of the way you, ya daft whazzack,” came an annoyed voice from behind him. And then came Lirian—tall and lean, trailing a whisper of quiet power. Pale blue eyes, sharp and unreadable beneath his half-Japanese, half-Scottish features. His smile was unsettling.

They all looked at her like she was the last piece of a puzzle they’d been turning in their hands for years. Just as she examined them and compared the reality to what she had played out a thousand times in her mind.

Zel leaned forward. “You look well.”

“She looks fragile,” Maro muttered, stepping too close. Before she could stop him, his hand came forward, fingers surprisingly gentle as he tilted her chin up like a soldier inspecting a weapon. “Smaller than I thought.”

Faolan bristled, pulling back slightly. “And you’re bigger than I imagined. Don’t any of you have any respect for personal space?”

Zel and Lirian exchanged a surprised glance and a guffaw of uncertainty

Maro was lingering—he never lingered…or touched.

Maro hated touching or being touched. He didn’t even let women brush against him. His boundaries were reinforced with brick. And Thane? Well, he was the same…unless sex was involved.

“That’s what’s weird,” Lirian muttered to Zel under his breath, amused. “Thane’s the same way. Won’t hug, not very cuddly. But he’ll fuck like its takeout—fast, hot, and instantly forgotten.”

Faolan turned to him slowly.

Her eyes were arctic ice.

Zel let out a low whistle and turned away, already shaking his head. Lirian tried to hide a grin.

Thane’s voice came low and hard, as if he had swallowed a mouthful of rocks. “Shut up.”

There was no humour in it. At all.

Zel bit his lip, trying not to laugh. “There it is.”

Lirian chuckled. “How long did you think you’d last, mate?”

Maro grunted. “Told you. If she made it out alive, he’d turn into a rabid wolf.”

“Wasn’t wrong,” Zel replied.

Thane didn’t take his eyes off Lirian. “I said, shut up.”

But Faolan wasn’t looking at Lirian anymore.

She was still looking at Thane.

Because whatever they’d just joked about, she’d heard the truth beneath it. That he’d treated sex like a transaction. That she’d once been that—fast, hot, and forgettable.

Her anger ebbed when she noticed the panic waft behind his eyes.

The moment he realised who she was, everything in him had shifted.

He hadn’t touched her like that since.

Not without thought. Not without treating her like a priceless gift he didn’t deserve.

He hadn’t tried to take.

He’d started giving instead.

He hovered now, not for possession, but for penance.

Because the man who used to take without looking back was looking at her now like she was the only thing he couldn’t afford to lose.

Lirian grinned. “At least you are still alive. That’s a relief.”

“Guys.” Thane’s voice had dropped an octave, a warning. He didn’t like to be reminded of what nearly happened.

Zel ignored it. “We have something for you.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a small velvet pouch, placing it in her palm.

“What’s this?” she asked, her fingers curling around the soft weight.

“Backpay,” he said simply as she opened the pouch and revealed a small silver key. “It’s the key to a locker in your name. We’ve been holding a fifth of the Horsemen for you. And Thane, more than any of us, never lost hope that we would find you.”

Her brows lifted as she looked at Thane. “The Horsemen?”

Thane shifted beside her. He hadn’t stopped glaring at Maro since he walked in. But Maro didn’t care; his focus was on her.

Lirian pulled a chair forward, flipping it around before straddling it. “We made a promise long ago. If you ever came back, we’d cut you in.”

“Whether you work with us or not,” Maro added, still watching her. “It’s yours.”

“There’s also a bank account in the Cayman Islands,” Lirian said casually. “It’s in Thane’s name and he will transfer it to yours. That was the plan all along. You don’t have to lift a finger unless you want to.”

She stared at them. “Why? Why do all this?”

But she knew even as she asked.

It was Maro who answered, voice low and gritty. “Because we owe you. All of us do.”

He looked at her with truth in his eyes. “We wouldn’t have lasted long there. Zel would’ve been first to be killed off—he was getting too old for them. Lirian second, because he was trouble and harder to control. Me and Thane would’ve taken longer, but not by much. Angry and silent die slow.”

Zel was expressionless but his jaw ticked.

“I don’t know if Thane told you, but we found every bastard who did that to us,” Maro continued.

“Every middleman. Every buyer. Every rotten warehouse and fake charity. There’s nothing left to dig up.

They are all gone.” His voice hardened. “And we’ll do the same for you.

We’ll find them, and we’ll make them pay. ”

She swallowed. The floor felt unstable.

“Most of them…” her voice cracked, “were middlemen. Small fry. They’re dead or locked up”

“I didn’t have anything to do with that,” she said quickly, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Her voice wobbled. “Though Cormac might have. But there’s one. Just one…”

Her chest tightened as her memory took her to a place she didn’t want to go. “He was the one. I mean he…”

The words caught and choked. “He—”

She broke.

Her hands covered her face as the sob rose, ragged and sudden and louder than she expected.

She had thought she had left it all behind. She had years of therapy and her family behind her. But with them…