Page 44 of Web of Lies

Kyle

Noah leans over the pool table, lining up his next shot.

I stand on the opposite side, sipping my beer.

While Evelyn and Riley are upstairs, we disappeared down to the basement.

Of the few rooms in the house, Evelyn left one entirely to him.

It's exactly what I expect from Noah: dark walls, sturdy furniture, a row of neatly arranged firearms displayed like art on the wall.

In the middle of the room sits the pool table.

One of the many hobbies he picked up since his retirement.

A soft clack rings through the room as he takes the shot, followed by the satisfying thud of the ball dropping into the pocket. He straightens his posture, and I watch him walk around the table as I lift my beer to my lips.

The calm atmosphere of the basement swallows one whole.

The faint, lingering scent of tobacco smoke in the air, the low hum of the lamp, the quiet rhythm of balls colliding across green felt.

It’s exactly what I need: a calm evening to reflect, to think, to sort through the mess in my head without the noise.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Noah asks, stopping beside me and lifting his whiskey glass to his lips to take a sip.

"In all honesty?" I spin the pool cue between my fingers. "I'm not sure. I offered to take care of it for her. But she said she wants to be the one to end it herself." Noah lets out a thoughtful hum. "You think it's stupid?"

"I don't think my opinion matters," he says without looking at me.

"You're my brother," I say. "And we've both been in this line of work longer than anyone else in this house. Of course, your opinion matters." He exhales and walks back to the table, resting the whiskey glass on the edge, and leans forward, lining up his next shot.

If anyone's opinion matters to me, it's his. I've listened to Noah more than I've ever followed our parents' advice, even though we don't share the same blood, and our personalities clash more often than not. Our values align where it matters most — on life and on death.

"I just don't know if she really knows what she's signing up for," he says as he aims for the ball.

He takes the shot, and the ball rolls forward with a soft click.

However, it bounces off the edge and misses the pocket.

He stands up straight, glances at me, pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and lights one.

The smoke curls from the corner of his mouth.

"I'm the last person who will judge someone for wanting someone dead.

That would be hypocritical. But she doesn't strike me as someone who's built for it. Not yet, at least."

"You have a point there," I hum as I set my beer down on the side table and step closer. My eyes scan the field, searching for the cleanest shot. "But there's potential."

"Is there?" Noah asks, raising a brow.

"Yeah." I lean in to line up the cue ball. "She's a little sloppy with firearms, sure. But she's got a solid right hook and doesn't hesitate to use a taser." I pull the cue back and shoot. With a sharp click, the ball sinks into the corner pocket I aimed for.

"How do you know that?" Noah asks, his brow arching higher.

I straighten my posture and glance at him, a smug grin curling the corners of my lips. "I may or may not have tried scaring her as the Butcher to make her stop digging. Things got a little out of hand, and she tased me."

Noah snorts and rolls his eye. "You're an idiot."

"Maybe," I say, still grinning. "Not everyone can be as lucky as you, running into a woman who gets the hots for the man trying to kill her."

"I was indeed lucky," he says in a whisper before taking another drag of his cigarette and shaking his head.

His face twists, the lines around his eye softening as the corners of his lips lift into the ghost of a smile.

He is indeed lucky. He found a good woman who loves him for who he is, despite everything he has done in the past. Not many could find it in their hearts to forgive someone for trying to kill them, but Evelyn did.

Honestly, I don't understand their relationship, nor do I need to.

What matters is that they both love each other and are happy.

"But if that's the case, learning the proper stance and aim shouldn't be that difficult," Noah adds.

"I think so, too. She has a strong survival instinct; I just have to coax it out of her."

"Maybe she won't struggle as much as we think. She's been working with killers for years. There's a chance she's gotten used to it more than she realizes."

"Possible." I raise an eyebrow. "Then what are you worried about?"

He takes another long drag before speaking again. "It's the aftermath I'm thinking about. Will she regret it? Or perhaps worse, will she enjoy it?"

I hum in response. It's a fair point. The first time is always the hardest. It was for me, too, even though I grew up exposed to this lifestyle.

At first, it can feel exciting, like the high you get from : a flood of energy, clarity, and a boost that makes you feel on top of the world.

But the high wears off. The adrenaline fades, and what's left is the crash, and suddenly, you're alone with the aftermath of your actions.

That's when it starts to haunt you, little by little, until you can no longer ignore it.

"She'll need a stable environment," Noah interrupts my train of thought. "And she'll need people she trusts to help her get through it."

"She has us."

Noah sighs as he crushes the cigarette in the ashtray in front of him. "I hate to be the bad guy, but Evelyn and I are getting married in about three months. I'm sure she would move mountains to make things work, but I'm not signing up to be a full-time babysitter."

"It's the least you could do for her."

"I'm already letting you train her here," he says, gesturing around the basement. "I agreed to take her hunting. What else am I supposed to do?"

"We're brothers. And she's my girlfriend. On top of that, she's one of Evelyn's best friends. You really want this to be the hill you die on?" I pause, my tone more serious now. "What did Mom and Dad teach us?"

"We help friends in need," he finally says with a sigh.

"Exactly." He falls silent, his eye locked on mine.

"Okay," he adds after a moment. "Let's see how everything plays out. And if things go south, you can stay with us."

"Thanks." With more force than needed, my palm slams into his shoulder, fingers digging into his solid muscles. I know this isn’t easy for him. Noah has always been private, especially about his space. It’s his world, and I’ve seen what happens when people attempt to cross boundaries.

So letting Riley in, making the effort to deal with her being here, that’s not small.

And I don’t take it lightly. I appreciate it more than I’ll ever say out loud.

"I just want my quiet life back," Noah mutters with a sigh.

"You don't mean that." I let out a mocking huff.

"I do," he insists, but there's something tired and raw in his voice.

"No, you don't. That would mean giving up Evelyn. And we both know you'd never do that." Noah falls silent, narrowing his eyes at me. "Speaking of my beloved future sister-in-law." At that, Noah’s brows shoot up. "How did she react when she found out I’m the Butcher?"

"Better than I expected."

"Really?" I cock an eyebrow. "I figured she’d lose her mind about yet another secret."

"No. Given that she already knew about Mom, she said it made perfect sense; it was either Dad or you."

"And she is okay with it?"

"You’re still allowed in this house, aren’t you?

Safe to say she’s okay with it." His shoulders lift in a casual shrug as he turns his attention back to the pool table.

"She couldn't care less about what you do in your free time or what you do business-wise, as long as you don't include me in any of it. "

"Will she ever let that go?"

"No," his answer is quick and blunt. "I almost died. She’ll never let that go." He huffs, pulls the cue back, and smacks the ball. The sharp click echoes through the basement, followed by the solid thud of a ball dropping into the pocket. "Are you scared of her?"

"I respect her."

"You better." He looks at me, a thin smile playing on his lips. "She wouldn't hesitate to shoot you."

"I know that all too well." A muted laugh rumbles in my chest as I shake my head.

"So, treat Riley right," he adds. "You already have one strike with her, and if you hurt her, you're done for good."

"I will," I say with a nod, meeting his gaze. "Now that the truth is out, we can be completely honest with each other."

"Take it from me," Noah mutters as he chalks his cue. "Honesty makes life easier." A smirk stretches across his face. "At least with people you don't plan to kill."