Falling to my knees by the bed, I reached for my beloved twin’s face. “It’s me, V.”

“Threads?” He rolled onto his back, revealing swollen cheekbones, bruised jaw, and cut lip. His hands were tied, resting on his belly, and a black blindfold covered half his face, flapping over his nose every time he breathed.

“God, I’ll rip off their balls for this.” I fumbled behind his head. “Lean forward; let me get this off you.”

He did as I asked, groaning as he arched his head off the rank pillow.

Scrambling at the knot, I shoved it away the moment it loosened.

His eyes opened, blinking a few times. His mottled face turned to me. My heart cracked all over again, drinking in the signs of the horrendous beating he’d endured at the hands of Cut and Daniel.

In one afternoon, Cut had almost killed my brother and shot his sons. Yet, he hadn’t hurt any of them enough to end them.

Perhaps, there is hope after all.

Good had triumphed over evil.

Good would win over evil.

Just wait and see.

His eyes focused, face twisting in rage. “Threads. Oh, fuck, I’m so glad to see you.” He tried to sit up but cried out with pain. His fingers weren’t a healthy pink but blue-white from being trapped in such an arctic cell.

“Relax.” I pushed his shoulder. “Let me untie you.” Moving from my knees to the edge of the bed, I pulled at the twine around his wrists. Tears sprang to my eyes as dried blood and scabs reopened. Fresh crimson seeped, making the knot too slippery to undo.

“Goddammit,” I hissed.

“Here, try this.” A box-cutter appeared in front of my nose. I jumped. In the rush of seeing my brother, I’d forgotten about Jasmine.

“Who the hell are you?” V snapped, his eyes drinking in Jaz.

I accepted the knife. “Thank you.” My own dirk rested down my waistband, cursing me for not using it.

Jasmine glanced at my black and blue twin. Her eyes remained cool and standoffish, but her voice was warm enough. “You’ll find out soon.” Rolling backward, she graciously gave me some privacy as I slit the rope around V’s wrists and freed him.

The instant he could move, he hitched himself up and threw his arms around me. His muscular bulk wasn’t warm like normal—the ice from the room leeched everything from him, making it seem like I hugged marble.

He clutched me harder. “Fuck, Threads. What the hell is going on?”

I fell into him.

Vaughn was alive.

Jethro was alive.

Even Kes was alive.

A trifecta of happiness, yet all I wanted to do was burst into tears.

“It’s a long story.” I breathed in his familiar aftershave.

His body shuddered, his chin pressing on the top of my head. He didn’t let me go; if anything, he hugged me tighter. “God, I thought they’d killed you, too.” He shook his head. “Those gunshots. That fucking maniac. What the hell?”

I untangled myself. “Like I said, long story.”

Anger curled off him. “Where are the fucking cops in all of this! They came to get you. They brought you home. Yet, you touted that bullshit for that magazine and ruined everything. You cried wolf, Threads, and now we’re really fucked—”

“Stop it, alright? I know I’ve done a few things that don’t make sense. I know I made our family a laughingstock by denying everything you said and the police want nothing to do with us, but none of that matters.” Giving him a watery smile, I rubbed my eyes, doing my best to stay calm. “The main thing is you’re still alive. I’m still alive, and we’re going to fight back.”

His jaw worked. “Damn fucking right we’re going to fight back. I want every single Hawk dead.”

“Not every Hawk deserves to die.” Jasmine’s voice carried on a puff of frozen breath.

I turned to face her, sharing a kindred smile. “Only the rotten ones.”

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

Both our brothers are still in this world.

Vaughn growled. “They’re all rotten. Every last one of them.”

Jasmine scowled.

We didn’t have time to fight.

“We’ll talk about that later. For now, tell me if you’re alright. No broken bones or anything?”

V sighed, hugging me again. His strength hinted that apart from a few bruises, he wasn’t too damaged. “I’m stronger than I look, little sister.” He couldn’t stop touching me—tucking my hair behind my ears, tracing my cheeks and arms. It was tender, but it wasn’t because of love or the need to connect.

Ever since our mum became Hawk property, Vaughn had always patched me up. He’d find me sprawled at the bottom of the stairs from tripping with vertigo and plaster the scrapes on my hands. He’d somehow be there first if I fell and cut myself—always armed with bandages and painkillers for his delinquent sister.

He was so used to me hurting myself, he had a system. A process.

Words could lie about a fall—brush it off as if it were nothing. But touch couldn’t hide the truth. Touch could feel the heat of a new bruise or the bump of a broken bone.

Even hurt himself, he was still trying to fix and protect me.

I pushed him away. “I’m okay, V. Honest.”

“We need to get you out of here.” He swung his legs off the bed. “Now. Tonight.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Both our heads whipped up to face Jasmine. She’d rolled closer, sitting with her hands in her lap. I didn’t trust for a second she was as meek as she seemed. She probably had hundreds of weapons hidden in her blanket.