"Yeah." The admission hurts. "Which only makes this worse. Because the person who makes me feel most real is the person who'll never forgive me for what I am."
Cast steps back, leans against his desk, crosses his arms. Back to business mode, though something softer lingers in his eyes. "What do you want to do?"
"I don't know." The helplessness in my voice is embarrassing. "I don't know how to fix this. How to make him see that I'm sorry, that I was scared, that I never meant?—"
"Fight for him."
The words land like a command. "What?"
"Fight for him. For all of them. Don't give up just because it got hard." His expression hardens slightly. "You're my sister. Youwere raised by the most ruthless man in Texas before I killed him and took his place. You don't quit just because someone told you to leave."
"He doesn't want me?—"
"So change his mind." Cast's voice takes on that edge that reminds you he built an empire on knowing how to get what he wants. "You're an assassin, Valentina. You've infiltrated organizations, manipulated targets, survived things that should have killed you. And you're going to let one angry man in a wheelchair defeat you?"
"It's not about defeating —"
"No. It's about fighting for what matters." He leans forward. "You love him. You love all three of them. So fight. Make them see that you're worth the complication. Worth the pain. Worth forgiving."
"And if they don't? If Xavier can't?—"
"Then you tried." He straightens. "And you'll always have a place here. With me. With family." His expression softens fractionally. "But don't give up without fighting first. You're better than that."
I look at my brother—this cold, calculating man who just gave me the first real brotherly hug of my life, who's telling me to fight for love like he believes it's something worth bleeding for. And I realize he's right. I've been running, hiding, accepting Xavier's judgment as final.
But I'm Valentina Torres. I was raised to fight.
"Okay," I whisper.
"Okay?"
"Okay." Louder this time. More certain. "I'll fight."
Something that might be pride flickers in Cast's eyes. "Good. Now go shower. You smell terrible."
Despite everything, I laugh. "Thanks."
"Willow's right—you need food. Sleep. To take care of yourself before you can take care of anything else." He moves back around his desk, settling into his chair. Back to the untouchable businessman. "Stay here tonight. Tomorrow you can start figuring out your battle plan."
"Cast?"
He looks up.
"Thank you. For—" I gesture vaguely. "For this. For letting me fall apart."
"You're my sister." He says it simply, like it's obvious, like I should have always known that meant something to him. "You can fall apart here anytime you need to."
The words settle something in my chest that's been unsettled for months.
I'm about to respond when the door bursts open and a small tornado in the form of a seven-year-old crashes into the room.
"Auntie Val!" Penny—Vincent and Willow's daughter, all dark curls and enormous brown eyes—launches herself at me with the complete faith that I'll catch her. Which I do, automatically, swinging her up even though my arms are tired and my heart is heavy.
"Hey, Pen," I manage, and her arms wrap around my neck in that strangling-tight way kids hug when they really mean it.
"You're here! You're finally here! I missed you so much!" She pulls back enough to look at me with those serious eyes. "Mama said you were sad. Are you still sad? Because dinner is ready and Mama made your favorite and food makes everything better."
Out of the mouths of babes.