And I know—before he says a single word.
He remembers.
And whatever memory just slammed into him, it’s tied to what I did.
To her.
It’s a look that tells me forgiveness isn’t a given, not even between brothers. It’s the kind of look I’ll see every time I close my eyes for the rest of my life.
Ronan’s stare cuts through me like a blade, but it’s his voice—guttural, rough, like it’s clawing its way out of him—that freezes me in place.
“Where is she?” he growls, the words low and dangerous, vibrating beneath the hum of the machines like a warning shot.
There’s no mistaking who he means. No nickname. No confusion. Just the girl.Thegirl. The one we’ve kept locked away like a secret we didn’t want to admit we had.
Emerson shifts beside me, tension radiating off him like heat. He looks at me, waiting to see which version of the truth I’m going to offer.
“She’s been… taken care of,” I say carefully, deliberately.
The moment those words leave my mouth, Ronan’s entire body tenses. His fingers twitch against the blanket, fists forming beneath the thin fabric. His eyes don’t waver from mine, but something sharp—terrifying—flickers through them.
Emerson speaks up softly, like lowering his voice might soften the truth. “She didn’t give us anything. Not one word. No name. Not even a lie. We kept her isolated. Thought she’d crack eventually, but—”
“But she didn’t,” I finish, my jaw locking tight.
Ronan doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. I can feel the exact moment the air leaves his lungs like a punch to the ribs. His eyes widen, not from surprise, but from comprehension—like puzzle pieces snapping into place at lightning speed. A new horror spreads across his face, washing out the color, draining him of anything but fury.
“You fucking didn’t…” he says, voice low, too quiet now.
“I—” I step forward, trying to explain, trying tojustify, but Ronan cuts me off before I can take another breath.
“What the fuck did you do?” he snarls, and this time his voice is pure fire, a match dropped into gasoline.
His monitor flares, the once-steady rhythm now a rapid-fire alarm. Emerson lurches toward it instinctively, like he can calm him down just by being close, but Ronan throws off the blanket like he might rise from the bed himself. His body protests, muscles still weak, but the rage holds him upright.
“You better mean ‘taken care of’ as insafe, or so help me—” he hisses, trying to sit up again. “You think she’s a fucking threat? That girl bled trying to protect me! She fought the guy whoactuallyshot me!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snap, my voice raw as my heart slams against my ribs. “We found her with you, and she—”
“She didn’t shoot me!” he shouts again, pointing a shaking finger in my direction. “Bryce’s guy Trent did. I saw the flash of his watch. I was conscious long enough to see her dive between us. She tried tostopit!”
The replay hits me.
A memory I dismissed—just a second’s hesitation when I saw her in that basement. The way she didn’t flinch when I raised my hand. The way she glared at the floor—like she expected it. Like shewelcomedit. Not because she was guilty… but because she already knew we wouldn’t believe her.
“We thought—” Emerson starts, but Ronan shakes his head, biting down hard on the pain.
“Youthoughtwrong,” he snaps. “You tortured the one person who actually gave a damn about us.About me.You left her alone down there. Hurt. Humiliated. And you did it without even asking her name.”
“We know who she is,” I add quickly, like it might calm him. “She’s the fighter. Cupcake. We’ve been calling her that since the warehouse. We—”
Ronan barks out a laugh that has no humor in it, just venom. He tilts his head toward me, eyes flashing with disbelief.
“Sure she is,” he scoffs, then points a shaky finger between me and Emerson. “But you never recognized her. Not really.” He cackles then, low and bitter, the sound curling through the room like smoke choking the air. “She was right in front of you. Right fucking there. And neither of you saw her.”
My stomach knots. “Ronan—”
“I wasrightnot to tell you when I figured it out,” he cuts me off, his voice thick with rage. “Neither of you deserved to know. You still don’t. Not after what you did to her.”