As Veronica finally quieted, Jordan sat there holding her hand, his own mind reeling from the magnitude of the buried truth.
"You and Askai should leave Nolan and run away with Kael while you still can. Moraine is too deeply invested in the West, and in… you." She clutched his hand so tight that it was almost painful. That place had taken everything from her. Everything that mattered.
It had showed her bursts of happiness, like rays of the sun that peeked over the dark stormy clouds. She had foolishly believed that West was capable of giving life and happiness but all it ever did was inducing one to dream. Then it cruelly tore it apart right in their faces, cackling like a possessed evil. She had no hopes for that place.
"If Moraine chooses to be the King of Hell, he would want you to rot in there. You don't deserve it. None of us ever deserved that."
Jordan gently disentangled his hand, a sense of self-preservation winning out over his fear. "Veronica, it has been so long already, and moreover, a year has passed since that bastard died; he didn't come after us." He paused, seeking logic in the insanity. "He probably hates me enough to never see me again and I can definitely handle his minions if they ever tried to mess with us. In fact, in the bloody mess that the West is in currently, I doubt anyone even has time to think about us. We would probably be safe for a while."
Jordan didn't know whom he was trying to assuage—himself or Veronica—but his own words, laced with false hope, sounded perfectly logical.
Veronica straightened up, gently shaking her head. She had no way of getting through these mule-headed boys who were too stubborn for their own good.
Moraine did not realize it yet, but Jordan and Askai were the only ones he once called family who were still alive.
He might even call them family once again someday—if they survived his wrath.
"There are more dangers lurking in the West, besides Moraine, for you brothers." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, conveying the gravity of her terror. "There is a force in the East—more mythical than real—but they say it is coming to the West. They call them the East Guard—Protector of the Glass Wall—but no one knows about its mysterious leader. Only that he is powerful and ruthless enough to annihilate the West if he chose to. Their succession remains shrouded in secrecy, and I doubt even Valez knows who is pulling the reins. It's hard to defeat an enemy you know nothing about."
A cold chill went down Jordan's spine as he recalled the words of Askai : East held the stick. The ultimate Villains. Despite himself, another fear gripped his heart, one colder than Moraine's anger.
"Why are they an enemy of Moraine suddenly?" he asked, unable to come up with a reason himself. Moraine, unlike Karla and Qurais, had become a darling of the East recently. He had realized that diplomacy worked far better than the weapons when it came to East.
He had come so far from the man he once knew. Jordan never believed that Moraine would ever forgive the East for what they had done to him.
"Because of that bastard Tommie," Veronica whispered, fury and dread warring in her voice. "He knew his end was coming. And instead of facing it like a man, he chose vengeance—invited the wrath of the East upon the West." She shuddered, as if the weight of her knowledge scorched her nerves. "Only Moraine and a few in his Inner Circle know what he's done. It isn't common knowledge… not yet."
Her gaze lifted to Jordan—pleading, terrified. "There. More reasons for you to run. Leave before the storm turns into war."
"I'll try," Jordan promised softly. "I just need to bring Kael—"
"No." The word broke from her lips too fast, too sharp, and her eyes widened as if afraid she'd already said too much. "Stay. Please… stay here. I'll get him."
Jordan's confusion flickered into concern. She was unravelling—torn open by memories he had never fully understood. She had loved Selvis once, and it was not death that had parted them, but a cruelty so ruthless it had hollowed her life. Jordan had never realized until now how painfully he and Askai reminded her of everything she'd lost.
Fate—merciless fate—had driven them to her doorstep. Or maybe it wasn't fate at all. Maybe they had simply been selfish enough to stay.
"Veronica," he said gently, stepping closer. "You are not going out there alone, not in this state. The orphanage is only a short drive. I'll be fine." His voice softened into a coaxing warmth. "Why don't you make those chocochip cupcakes? Kael practically worships them. And I think we could all use a little sweetness today."
A flicker of light returned to her eyes—fragile, but real.
"You have the smile of an angel," she murmured, as if embarrassed to feel hope. "One glimpse of it, and the pain just… fades."
Her gaze drifted to the cooling cup of coffee, and she sighed. "And I didn't even let you finish that."
Jordan chuckled—a soft, disarming sound that tried to mask the tightening anxiety in his chest. "Then we'll pair the cupcakes with a fresh cup when I'm back. Fifteen minutes, tops."
He smiled again—bright, reassuring, beautifully false—and turned toward the door… hoping he could keep the promise his heart already feared he wouldn't be able to keep.
He reached for the car keys — and suddenly the room tilted in front of his eyes. Sirens. Sounds of engine revving. Unrelenting Car horns. Askai's voice shouting his name. The screech of tires devouring the road behind him.
And the horrifying silence that followed — when Jordan realized he had been forced to leave his brother to whom he believed were monsters. His hand froze mid-air. Breath staggered from his lungs.
Would he become like Moraine? A man who built his life on the bitter spirit of vengeance— for brothers he could not save. A man who crushed the world under his boot because he couldn't save the one thing that mattered.
Jordan swallowed hard. Maybe Kael only needed one brother — and Jordan was the wrong one to remain.
He jerked away from the keys and disappeared into the bedroom — re-emerging moments later with the duffel bag. Veronica watched every movement, her worry folding deeper lines into her brow.
He dropped the bag onto the small wooden table, the thud louder than an explosion in the quiet room.
"What is it?" she asked cautiously, sitting down.
Jordan did not sit. He unzipped the bag.
Veronica inhaled sharply — the neat stacks of hundred-dollar bills glimmering beneath the yellow kitchen light. Wealth — enough to change a life. Enough to buy new ones.
"I thought you boys had no money…" she whispered, confusion and fear vying for dominance. Moraine had ensured that over the past years. Boys had thought that it was his way of punishing him but she knew that he was just keeping a tight leash on Jordan. He couldn't let him run away.
Jordan's smile was bleak as he remembered the night they had trashed the Night Queen and the torment that followed.
Oh, they had paid. Paid in ways money could never compensate.
"This is the only good thing that came out of that night," he murmured. "If the streets hadn't turned on us, maybe Askai and I would've made it to Kazan. Maybe we would've lived the life we promised each other. Safe. Boring. Ordinary."
His voice cracked at the unfamiliarity of those dreams.
"But that's not how fate works… not for us." He drew in a breath that hurt. "If we get caught in this war —" If we die, but he couldn't give that fear shape —
"I need you to promise me something."
Her eyes widened, glistening. "Take Kael. Take this money. And leave Nolan behind. Selvis isn't here anymore. There is nothing left for you except a graveyard of memories."
Veronica flinched as if struck. Jordan closed his eyes, guilt splintering inside him. But truths — real ones — tasted bitter.
"You cannot be part of this," she whispered, voice trembling. "Jordan, I just told you—"
He stepped back, fingers tightening around the keys as if they were the only thing keeping him upright.
"Trust me, Veronica," he said, and the raw honesty in his voice nearly shattered them both. "I want to be in that car with you and Kael. I want to forget all of this. I want a life where I worry about groceries and rent and spilled coffee.."
He blinked hard as a truth escaped him — one he had never once dared to speak aloud.
"I want to be someone Kael looks up to… not someone he fears losing."
For a heartbeat, hope flickered. Stupid, reckless hope. "But I don't dare dream of that," he said, throat thick. Not now. Not ever.
Some destinies were etched in blood long before a person learned to spell their name.
He turned away — because if he looked back at her, he wouldn't survive the grief in her eyes. Veronica would get over it. It was a cruel thing to say but she had been through worse and every time she got up and walked all over her grief and shocked the strongest of heart.
She is the only one whom he could trust to keep Kael safe. If only the boy listened to her, he would be okay. Had they listened to her back then, they would have been.....
Without another word, Jordan walked out the door. He had a boy to pick up. He had a family to save — if fate would let him.
And God — he was dying to see Kael's smile again.