They’d been on the road since last night, trading the wheel like soldiers passing a weapon. Darius had started out, then Zeke after their late-night stop for greasy diner food, and finally Joey, stubbornly taking the last stretch through Ohio.

Now, at almost eleven a.m., the streets of Joey’s hometown stretched out around them—cracked blacktop, leaning telephone poles, rows of tired houses sagging under the weight of years.

The little green sign for Warren, Ohio zipped past the passenger-side window, and Darius felt the energy shift in the car immediately. Joey, hunched forward in the driver’s seat, practically vibrated with it. His hands were steady enough on the wheel, but his whole body leaned into the windshield like he could reach his house faster if he just willed it.

Darius sat back in the passenger seat, arms crossed, watching him out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t subtle—Joey’s lips tugged up every few seconds like he couldn’t fight the smile, his knee bouncing against the steering column. He was nervous too, sure, but more than that, he was happy. Like he was about to get Christmas morning all over again, but really, he was just going home to see his family.

And damn if that didn’t sting. Darius couldn’t remember the last time he’d been excited to go home. Hell, could barely remember the last time he’d even had a family to go home to. Watching Joey now—that eager little light in his face, the way he kept sneaking glances at the houses lining the streets—it put something sharp in Darius’s chest. Something he refused to name.

In the back seat, Zeke shifted again, making the upholstery creak. He’d been restless ever since they left the diner late last night, but now he was practically crawling out of his own skin. His leg bounced, his fingers drummed against the door, his jaw worked tight like he was holding back words. Darius caught his reflection in the side mirror—the impatient frown, the way he chewed on his lip—and he didn’t have to guess who he was thinking about.

Josh.

Darius turned back to the road with a slow exhale through his nose. He still couldn’t believe it. Out of all the stupid ways Zeke could’ve blown up their mission, it had to be over Joey’s disaster of a brother. Joey had been honest enough about Josh—the pills, the arrests, the lost jobs and ruined relationships. And Zeke? With his bright grin and too-big heart? He’d latched onto that mess like it was something worth saving.

Darius didn’t get it. Didn’t like it, either. He thought Zeke had better taste than that. Way better.

Still… he hadn’t said anything. Not yet. He was waiting to actually talk to Josh for himself before he made the final call. Maybe Joey’s bitterness colored the picture. Maybe Zeke saw something nobody else did. But Darius doubted it. Everything he’d seen so far screamed that Josh was a parasite—and if that was the case, Zeke was setting himself up to bleed.

He glanced back again, taking in the sight of Zeke crammed into the corner of the seat, knees pulled up a little, head tipped back against the window. He was chewing the inside of his cheek now, eyes darting toward Joey every so often like maybe Joey had an ETA stamped on his forehead. Zeke was tan even in the flat Ohio light, his sandy-brown curls a messy halo that caught every beam of sun through the glass. Even impatient, he was stupid good-looking—too good for his own damn good.

Joey, meanwhile, looked like the definition of homegrown cute. His shirt was wrinkled from hours behind the wheel, his blond hair stuck up a little in the back where he’d napped earlier, and his pale skin still carried that flush of excitement. His eyes—that impossible green—tracked the streets like he was memorizing every crack in the pavement.

Darius shook his head. Two cute kids, each tangled in their own mess. And him, sitting between them like the one holding the whole thing together.

Joey slowed at a stoplight, squinting down a familiar street. “We’re a-almost there,” he said softly, almost reverently.

Zeke’s head snapped up. “Finally.” His voice cracked with impatience. “Josh should’ve been out of court by now. He’ll be waiting—”

“No,” Darius said, firm. “Joey. Turn around.”

Joey blinked, startled. “Huh?”

“Turn around,” Darius repeated, his hand clamping gently but firmly on Joey’s shoulder. “I saw a motel back a mile. That’s where we’re going.”

Both Joey and Zeke stared at him.

“What? Why?” Zeke demanded, sitting forward with a wild look in his eye. “We’re already here, man. Just go to the house!”

“No.” Darius’s voice was low, final. “We’re not staying under your mom’s roof, Joey. Not with Vinnie’s eyes still out there. You wanna walk into a trap? ’Cause I don’t.”

Joey’s mouth opened, then closed again. He looked torn, his excitement flickering into uncertainty. Zeke, though, was already scowling, chewing on his lip like he wanted to pick a fight.

Darius sighed. “We’ll go see them, yeah. But we’re not sleeping there. Not parking in their drive either. FBI detail can hang back, keep a watch. And we move in quiet. Back door, not the front.”

Zeke groaned, throwing his head back against the seat. “Waste of time. Total waste. Josh is probably already—”

“Enough,” Darius snapped, sharper than he meant, but it did no good, Zeke immediately started to complain.

“Fucking stupid—"

Joey cut in quick, voice small but steady. “No, Zeke, h-he’s right. I don’t wanna bring t-trouble down on my family. If th-this is what we gotta do, w-we’ll do it.”

Zeke muttered something under his breath but he stopped arguing.

Joey turned the wheel reluctantly, guiding them back toward the grim little motel they’d passed.

When they got there minutes later, the “VACANCY” sign flickered red against the pale afternoon sun, the parking lot pitted and cracked. Joey wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. Th-this place? It has a… reputation.”

“Perfect,” Darius said flatly, already reaching for the door handle.

The motel reeked of mildew before he even stepped inside. The lobby was a box of peeling wallpaper and buzzing fluorescent lights, the front desk manned by a kid barely out of high school. Darius kept his hood up as he slid the Visa card across the counter. Riley had given it to them with a clipped “don’t go crazy,” but there was still plenty of balance left. Darius didn’t feel even a flicker of guilt using it now.

“Two beds,” he said. His voice made the kid snap to attention, fumbling over the keyboard.

A few taps later, a laminated key card slid across the counter. “Room 12, ground floor.”

Darius pocketed it, offered nothing more, and walked back out into the gray daylight.

The FBI vans had ghosted along behind them all night, never more than a few car lengths away. Now they were parked at opposite ends of the cracked motel lot, black paint dull under the morning haze. Each one looked ordinary enough to a passerby, but Darius could see the shapes inside—two men in each, watching.

He approached the closer van, rapping once on the driver’s side window. It rolled down with a whine. The man inside wore mirrored shades, his jaw like it had been cut from stone. Another agent sat in the passenger seat, flipping idly through a file but not missing a word.

“We’re moving to the family house,” Darius said, low. “But we’re not staying overnight. Joey wants to see his mom, that’s it. You hang back—Wally’s lot a couple blocks away should do. Keep eyes on, but don’t crowd it. I’ll call Riley if things go south.”

The driver gave a single nod. “Copy.”

That was enough. Darius stepped back as the window hummed up again. Professional shadows, nothing more.

Back in the hybrid, Joey was chewing his lip, hands tight on the wheel. Zeke sat twisted halfway around in his seat, like he’d been watching the exchange the whole time.

“All good,” Darius said, climbing in.

Joey nodded, turned the key, and steered them out.

Warren looked worse in daylight. Streets lined with sagging porches, paint stripped raw by winters and neglect. Chain-link fences leaned into each other, yards littered with rusted bikes and toys left out a decade too long. Darius scanned every corner, every stoop, cataloging exits and shadows.

As they neared Joey’s parent’s neighborhood, the FBI vans peeled off in silence, sliding toward Wally’s. Out of sight, but not gone.

The courthouse wasn’t far, but Joey turned into the neighborhood instead, winding between blocks of squat houses that all looked like they’d been stamped from the same mold.

Two streets down from the Balas place, Joey eased the car against the curb. “I-it’s not far from here. We can w-walk from here,” he said.

Darius got out first, scanning the block. A few doors down, a couple of little kids squealed from a huge pile of raked leaves. Somewhere closer, a dog barked sharp and mean behind a fence.

“Stay close,” he muttered as Joey led the way through a narrow side yard.

They moved quick and quiet, staying close together as they slipped past chain-link fences and crabgrass patches. A skinny mutt lunged at them once, snarling through the bars, but Joey hissed low and it backed off.

Zeke trailed just behind Darius, his sneakers crunching on gravel louder than Darius liked. He was jittery, his eyes flicking at every sound. Darius wanted to snap at him to focus, but he kept it in. He knew why Zeke was wound so tight.

They cut through a yard where two kids sat cross-legged on a blanket, trading playing cards. The older one glanced up, narrowed his eyes at the sight of strangers slipping past his fence, then wisely looked back down.

By the time Joey slowed, pointing ahead, Darius’s shoulders ached from tension.

There it was. The Balas house. Faded siding, crooked shutters, the roof patched in places. A rusting trampoline leaned at an angle near the garage.

Joey’s breath hitched, his whole frame going taut with something that wasn’t just nerves.

“Home,” he whispered.

Darius didn’t answer. He just scanned the yard, jaw tight, every instinct braced.

The little gate groaned when Joey unlatched it. The three of them slipped into the yard, grass trampled bare in wide circles where the dogs had run their endless loops. Sure enough, as soon as they hit the back steps, barking exploded inside the house—three distinct pitches, high, low, and raspy, all overlapping.

Joey froze halfway up the porch, nerves sparking across his face. Darius put a steadying hand against the small of his back, but Joey still knocked like he wasn’t sure he belonged there.

A beat of silence. Then the door swung wide.

Linda Balas filled the frame. Her pale face went from startled to radiant in a heartbeat. “Joey!” She grabbed him up in a hug so fast it made the porch boards creak. The embrace was brief, but desperate, her hands clinging to him like she might never get another chance. Pulling back, she searched his face, body, clothes, like she needed to tally up all the damage. “Oh, baby. Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick.”

Joey flushed, ducking his head. “Y-yeah. I’m… I’m alright.” His voice was small, breaking as he gestured awkwardly behind him. “Um… Mom, this is my f-friend Zeke. Remember uh… h-he was with me the other day wh-when I video called.”

“Oh right,” Linda said with a smile of recognition. “Hello again.”

Zeke crossed his arms over his chest and smiled tight. But Linda’s gaze was already sliding to Darius.

And Joey was already blushing. “And this is… uh—” He gestured to Darius, cheeks going even pinker. “Is Darius. M-my boyfriend.”

The word hung between them like a stone thrown into glass.

Linda’s smile faltered, just a flicker, her eyes darting between her son and the tall black man looming behind him. Darius stood his ground, posture loose but presence impossible to miss. Broad shoulders, long frame, a stare that didn’t waver. He was used to the look—half intimidated, half curious.

“Oh. Wow.” Linda smoothed her palms against her jeans, clearly flustered but trying to recover. “Josh, uh… Josh said something about you running off with a guy, but I didn’t… I mean, I wasn’t sure.” Her gaze snapped back to Darius, wide with appraisal. “I’m Linda. Joey’s mom.”

“Darius,” he said evenly, extending a hand. His grip was firm, practiced.

She shook it, though her hand trembled faintly. “Where are you from, Darius?”

“Cleveland,” he answered without hesitation.

“Oh.” She blinked, trying to picture her son’s world overlapping with this stranger’s. “And… what do you do?”

Darius offered the faintest smile, a controlled curve of his lips. “Security. Thirteen years of it. But I’m between work right now—looking for something new.”

Linda nodded slowly, her expression caught between polite approval and bewilderment. “Well… good. That’s good.”

The silence dragged half a second too long, thick as the barking inside. She smoothed her hair back, flustered again. “So… how’d you two meet?”

Darius glanced at Joey, let him squirm a little before answering for them both. His voice was low, confident. “At a club.”

Linda’s mouth opened, then closed again, like she wasn’t sure what to do with that answer. She glanced back into the yard, searching for a new thread. “Well. Come in, then. But why on earth didn’t you use the front door?”

Joey muttered something about just… wanting to and he stepped inside as Linda raised her eyebrows in question. But then the dogs swarmed them instantly, cutting into the conversation with their tails whipping like battering rams.

“Kush, Scooby, down!” Linda scolded, but the command meant nothing. “Kush! Come on.”

Scooby flopped on Joey’s feet, Capone danced around Zeke’s knees, and old Kush went straight for Darius, sniffing insistently. Darius held still, cautious, then finally gave the dog a rough pat. Kush nudged harder, demanding more, and despite himself Darius cracked a smile and gave in.

Linda noticed, head tilting, and Darius answered her hanging question before she could ask again.

“A lot of things going on right now we’d rather not explain in detail. Best leave it at that,” he said, not unkindly and Linda nodded slowly, like she understood more than she wanted to.

“Well. It’s good to have Joey back,” she said, but her hands twisted together nervously. She kept sneaking looks at Darius, too—like she couldn’t help it—her eyes tracing his broad shoulders, the scars on his arms, the calm weight of his presence. It wasn’t judgment, exactly. More like she was still trying to reconcile the word boyfriend with the man standing in her kitchen. Every time she looked, she flushed faintly and glanced away again, embarrassed to be caught staring.

Darius noticed, of course, but didn’t comment. He’d had worse scrutiny. He just gave Kush another absentminded pat and let the dog lean harder into him.

Linda cleared her throat. “Can… I get anybody something? Coffee? Pop?” She smoothed her shirt, trying to push herself into motion.

“Coke,” Joey said immediately, still crouched over Scooby, voice soft and eager like he couldn’t help himself.

“Coffee for me,” Darius added, his voice cutting through like a command. Then, he shifted into the nearby living room and sank into the solidary recliner, already reclaiming a corner of the room.

“I’m good,” Zeke muttered, trailing after, though he didn’t sound it. He didn’t take a seat, he was restless, his fingers twitching against his jeans. His eyes darted toward Linda. “Actually… uh… Josh. We’ve kinda been talking, since that video chat thing. Is he back from court yet?”

Linda frowned lightly. “Not yet. He left a little after eight-thirty. He should be finishing up any minute.”

Zeke’s jaw clenched. “Could you maybe send him a message? My phone got destroyed. In a… terrible accident.” He shot Darius a sidelong look at that, bitter but quick.

Linda hesitated, then nodded. She moved into the living room too and grabbed her phone off the coffee table. She turned it on and scrolled through contacts for a second before she finally tried calling. But… it went straight to voicemail. “Huh. That’s strange.” She held the phone out sheepishly. “I’m… not so good with typing. Here—you better send him something.”

Zeke snatched it without question, thumbs moving fast. He typed, sent, then stared at the screen, waiting. The “delivered” tag never switched to “read.” His mouth pressed tight. “He should’ve seen it. He should’ve answered.”

“Relax,” Joey said with a groan. “Josh is… well. He’s J-Josh. He’s probably s-screwing around somewhere. He’ll turn up.”

Linda nodded, already drifting toward the kitchen. “He’s not exactly dependable. I wouldn’t worry yet. He’ll be home soon enough.”

But Zeke’s voice cracked louder than before. “No. You don’t get it. He knew I was coming today. I told him. He wanted to see me. He should be here.”

That made Darius’s head snap up. His stare locked on Zeke, sharp enough to pin him in place. “You told him we were coming?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Jesus Christ, Zeke. Did it ever occur to you somebody might’ve been listening in?”

Zeke’s bravado faltered. He shifted from foot to foot, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I—I thought it was fine. I mean, it was private. It should’ve been private.”

“Nothing’s private,” Darius said flatly, his tone hard enough to chill the room.

Zeke swallowed, his face paling. For the first time since Darius had smashed his phone, he looked genuinely rattled.

The silence hung heavy for a moment, broken only by the low snuffle of the dogs. Then Linda, blinking a little in confusion, offered a faint smile. “Well. I’ll get those drinks.” She slipped out toward the kitchen, leaving them in the tense quiet.

Joey finally tore himself away from the dogs and padded over, cheeks flushed, eyes shining. He perched on the arm of Darius’s recliner like he belonged there, curling one arm around his shoulders. Then, bold in that soft way of his, he pressed a quick kiss to Darius’s cheek.

Darius felt the warmth bloom against his skin. He didn’t move, didn’t smile, but Joey’s beaming face gave him away anyway.

Zeke, meanwhile, still hadn’t sat down. He prowled behind the couch, hands fidgeting, his restlessness like static in the air.

“Mom?” Joey called suddenly, glancing toward the kitchen. “Wh-what’s the plan for Halloween this weekend? I w-wanna see Brian, Tay-Tay, and I-Isabel.”

The sound of clinking glasses drifted back, followed by Linda’s distracted murmur. “Trick-or-treat’s Sunday night. But Sara found a church doing trunk-or-treat tonight at six.”

Joey’s whole face lit up. He twisted toward Darius, eyes huge, grin so bright it hurt. “Ohhh! Darius—c-can we stay and see their costumes? P-please?”

Darius exhaled hard through his nose, rolling his eyes. “What kind of grinch would I be if I said no?”

Joey let out a delighted noise, throwing both arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “Thank you, th-thank you!”

While Darius hugged him back, behind them, Zeke muttered, sharp as glass. “Great. So we’ll have ages to wait for Josh, then.”

Joey glanced over Darius’s shoulder, half-annoyed, half-placating. “Oh, c’mon, Z-Zeke. He’s probably just… t-trying to be fashionably late.” He raised his voice again, calling, “Mom? How’d Josh g-get to court, anyway? Borrow Dad’s car, or d-did he ride with a friend?”

The kitchen went quiet a beat too long before Linda reappeared, precariously balancing a can of Coke and a steaming mug. Her steps were unsteady, her eyes glassy. “I think… he went with Ronnie.”

The name landed like a hammer.

“Ronnie?!” Zeke barked, his whole body going taut, but Joey and Darius were already on their feet, closing the distance fast.

Linda swayed dramatically, the coffee sloshing dangerously near the rim and Darius snatched it before it could spill, Joey grabbing the Coke from her other hand.

“Easy.” Darius steered her toward the couch and he and Joey helped sit her down. She folded in at once, small as a child, fingers clutched at the cushions like she was holding the room together by force. Her breath came shallow and quick.

“I… think I took too many pills,” she admitted weakly.

Joey was already on his knees beside her, face wrecked. “M-mom—how many did you take? You’re always—y’know, careful about dosing… Are the m-migraines bad?” His voice came out thin, terrified. The stutter made each word sharper, more fragile.

Linda gave a humorless little laugh that turned into a cough. She pressed a hand to her forehead and then blinked up at him, eyes glassy. “Obviously one too many,” she said, voice small, as if apologizing for nothing more than making noise.

Joey’s face broke. “B-but… how’d you get so many? W-we’re always broke. Where’d you even—”

She tried to frame a smile and failed. “Josh… gave me half of what he found in your room,” she said, words tumbling out. “He gave me half and I—” Her laugh was a whisper. “We paid for groceries, the electric… and I went to Shanda’s more than once. I thought—I thought a little help would make things easier. I just wanted to keep up, you know? Your sister needs a babysitter. The kids need their grandma. You and Josh need me to mother you. And your dad… he’s useless unless I’m keeping him straight. I didn’t mean for it to—” She coughed, the sentence dissolving into a ragged inhale.

Darius watched the edges of her face go slack, the way her fingers trembled. He felt something cold and tight in his chest—annoyance, pity, a rising, managed fury. Not at Linda, not really; at whatever had driven a woman like her into this blind scramble. At the way the world around her had stacked responsibilities on her and handed out little solace.

Joey’s eyes filled. “J-Josh gave you half? He—” The hurt in him was a raw thing; it split Darius open for a second the way only people you care about can. Joey wrapped an arm around Linda like he could hold her steady. “Ma, you can’t… you can’t keep doing this. We gotta g-get you help.”

Linda’s hands fluttered, like she wanted to push him away and pull closer all at once. “I know,” she murmured. “I know I shouldn’t have— I just kept thinking I could do it. One more time. One more refill. It’ll be okay. I’ll be here for Trunk-or-Treat. I have to be.”

“But… mom,” Joey cried. “You’re g-gonna OD! I can’t believe S-Sara and Josh and dad have been letting you go on like this!”

Linda sighed, her hair falling into her face. “It’s no one’s fault but my own, Joey. And your dad’s trying to help. We’ve got some extra money after Josh handed me all that cash the other day and dad just sent me some a little bit ago. I’m out of pills now.” She lifted her head, her pupils wide, unfocused. “Do you think you and your… boyfriend could take me to Shanda’s later?”

The word boyfriend seemed to burn Joey redder than the request itself. “N-no!” he burst out, shaking his head fiercely. “A-are you kidding me? Darius…”

Darius backed him immediately, voice steady but firm. “I think you’ve had enough for one day, Linda.”

Linda’s lower lip trembled, her eyes welling. “But… how am I gonna get through trunk-or-treat tonight?” Her voice pitched desperate. “The kids are counting on me.”

Joey turned, tears already spilling, his face crumpling like a little boy’s. His eyes begged Darius for an answer, for comfort.

Darius reached across the space, took Joey’s hand in his, and squeezed hard. “We’ll figure it out. Relax, babe.”

Behind them, Zeke’s voice cut through like a knife. “Did you hear what she said guys? Josh went with Ronnie… I can’t believe this… I told Josh not to trust him. I don’t even know the guy, and I already know he’s a snake.”

Joey jerked his head around, eyes wet. “Wh-what?”

Darius frowned, the thought clicking into place faster than he liked. “He might be onto something, Joey. If Ronnie works for Vinnie… and they knew we were coming back to Ohio… then maybe Josh—”

“But… J-Josh will be home soon.” Joey said weakly.

“Fuck that! We need to go to that courthouse now!” Zeke snapped, his gaze serious, his voice cracking with urgency. “Pay attention, Joey. Your brother is in danger!”

Joey looked back at his mom, torn. “Maybe… m-maybe we should take her with us—”

“No!” Zeke shot back, near frantic. “We don’t have time for that! We need to hurry!”

Darius cut them both off, his gaze fixed on Linda, slumped against the couch, out of it and fragile. He sighed, hard. “We need to keep an eye on her, Zeke. There’s nobody else here. And we can use her phone and contacts if we need them—for Josh. For Ronnie.”

“I don’t believe this!” Zeke threw his hands up, exasperated. “Alright! Fine. I guess Linda’s coming too.”

Darius turned to Joey next, cupping his face in both hands, steadying him. “Listen to me. You and Zeke get your mom down to the end of the alley. I’ll bring the car around and pick you up. Then we’ll head straight to the courthouse and check on your brother.”

Joey nodded, trembling, but the trust in his eyes was absolute.

Darius leaned in and kissed him firmly, passionately, sealing the vow. Joey clung to him for a second, then let go, breathless.

Linda was staring at them both in amazement, mouth parted.

Darius smirked at her as he straightened. “Joey’s not a baby anymore. Follow him. He’s got this.” Then, he turned back to Zeke.

His old friend gave him a sharp nod—acknowledgment and challenge both. Zeke looked like he was about to unravel, but he swallowed it down anyway.

With one last glance, Darius spun for the back door and jogged out into the yard, his stride stretching into a run as he cut for the car.

Minutes later and two blocks down, Darius spotted the hybrid exactly where they’d left it. He slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and swung the wheel hard, gravel crunching as he tore back toward the alley. His gut told him every second mattered.

By the time he pulled up, Joey and Zeke were staggering into view, each with an arm hooked under Linda’s. She looked like deadweight between them, her feet dragging, head lolling. Darius shoved the car into park and leapt out to help, but Joey was already guiding her toward the back.

They managed to get Linda inside, Zeke climbing in after her to keep her upright. Joey slid in too, pale and trembling, while Darius dropped back behind the wheel and peeled out. He didn’t need directions for downtown Warren—he knew the way well enough—but his eyes kept darting to the rearview as Zeke’s restless muttering filled the back.

“Snake,” he growled, voice low and sharp. “Ronnie’s a snake. Knew it. He sold his own family out, watch. Watch.”

Joey stared at the floor, his face paler than Darius had ever seen. He said nothing. Fear clung to him like a second skin.

Then Linda’s voice drifted up, thick and slurred. “Ronnie wouldn’t betray his family. He loves us…”

Zeke let out a harsh laugh, ugly. “Yeah, sure. Loves you so much he’s probably cashing a check off it right now.”

“No,” Linda whispered. “He wouldn’t…”

Joey finally lifted his head, eyes wet and huge. “I… I don’t know, Mom. Ronnie d-does work for some really dangerous people.” His voice cracked. “He’s k-kinda the reason me and D-Darius had to run.”

Linda blinked slowly, trying to focus, her pupils glassy. “What’s going on with you, Joey? Really?”

Darius shot him a warning look, but Joey pressed forward anyway, his voice breaking. “R-Ronnie sent me on a job, and I—I had a run-in with the mob. Saw a m-murder they didn’t want anyone knowing about, and Darius… he s-saved me. We’ve been on the run e-ever since. And now we’re b-back to sell the mob out for immunity.”

Darius groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Joey. You really shouldn’t have told her all that.”

“She’s not g-gonna tell anyone.” Joey turned desperately toward his mom. “Right, Mom?”

Linda’s head lolled as she tried to shake it. “The mob? God, Joey…”

Joey hugged her close, tears cutting down his face. “Yeah… and I wish you w-weren’t taking so many pills, Mom. I know Josh m-meant well giving you that money, but h-he should’ve watched you better…”

Linda’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s been taking a lot of pills too, Joey. Down in your room most nights… crying and jerking off. I think he’s depressed. I know he tries to play it off, but this court stuff’s really got him in a bind.”

Joey’s face twisted with concern. His eyes flicked toward Zeke, and the surfer boy met his gaze with raw, open worry.

No one spoke after that. The silence was heavy, only the hum of the tires on cracked streets filling the space.

It took twenty minutes to reach downtown Warren. Joey sat forward at the end, guiding Darius through the turns, his voice taut and small.

The courthouse loomed ahead, gray stone and cold pillars against the midday sky. Darius pulled into a spot across from the entrance, killed the engine, and scanned the block.

Something in his gut tightened hard.

Darius scanned the street one more time, and then pushed open his door. Zeke was already halfway out of the backseat, jittery, pale with nerves. But Joey leaned forward, his hand braced on the seat divider. “I’ll… I’ll stay with Mom,” he said quickly. “She’s not… not doing so good.” His voice was tight, scared.

Darius gave him a single nod. “Good. Keep her calm.” Then he shut the door hard and followed Zeke across the street.

Inside, the fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting the marble tiles in a washed-out glare. A lone security guard sat slouched at the metal detectors, one hand on the armrest of his chair, the other lazily tapping his phone.

Zeke charged forward, voice sharp. “Hey. We’re looking for my boyfriend, Josh Balas. He was supposed to be here for court this morning. He’s not answering his phone.”

The guard looked up, his expression souring immediately at the word boyfriend. His eyes dragged over Zeke with disgust before flicking to Darius like he was backup muscle. “I can’t help you with that,” he said flatly. “If you wanna know if somebody showed for court, you need to check upstairs. Court administration handles the dockets.” He jabbed a thumb toward the back. “Take the elevator. Second floor.”

Zeke’s mouth worked like he was about to spit something back, but Darius clamped a hand on his shoulder, steering him toward the elevators. “Not worth it,” he muttered.

The second floor opened into a narrower hall lined with heavy wooden doors, the kind that muffled voices and clattered shut like prison cells. A small glassed-in office sat to one side, a plaque reading Clerk of Courts – Criminal Division.

A short line of people snaked out the door—a man in work boots shifting impatiently, a mother holding a toddler on her hip, a lawyer scrolling his phone.

As they waited their turn, Zeke bounced on his toes like he couldn’t breathe. His hands clenched and unclenched. By the time they reached the front and finally approached the desk, his voice broke free, too loud.

“We’re looking for Josh Balas,” he said frantically. “He’s missing. He was supposed to be here for court today.”

The deputy clerk—a weary woman in glasses with a badge clipped to her cardigan—tapped at her computer, barely glancing at him. “Name again?”

“Josh Balas!” Zeke barked.

More typing. A pause. Then she frowned at the screen. “Looks like he didn’t appear. Judge issued a bench warrant not long ago.”

The words hung heavy. Zeke’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she said briskly. “If you’re family, you might want to contact his attorney.”

But Zeke was already backing away, eyes shining with tears. “C’mon!” he yelled to Darius. “We’ve gotta call Ronnie—he was supposed to bring him!”

He bolted for the elevator, Darius trailing slower, his chest tight.

Inside the small steel box of the elevator, Zeke collapsed against the rail, fists pressed to his eyes. “This doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t miss this. He had a lawyer, a good chance… and he knew I was coming today.” His voice cracked, a sob breaking through. “What if something happened? What if—what if—”

Darius stared at the floor, his jaw clenched. He’d thought Josh was just another unreliable brother. Another excuse for Zeke to waste his heart. But this… this felt different. Too neat. Too deliberate.

Something ugly coiled in his gut.

“This isn’t just him screwing off,” Darius muttered. His voice was low, but heavy. “Something’s wrong.”

The elevator hummed as it dropped toward the lobby, Zeke’s soft, choked breaths the only other sound.

When they got back to the car, Darius slid behind the wheel, jaw set, while Zeke practically threw himself into the back.

“Linda’s phone. I need it. Now,” he gasped.

Linda blinked from where she slumped in the corner, glassy-eyed and slow, so Joey gently took the phone from her hand and passed it back. “Wh-what’s going on? What happened?”

“Josh didn’t show up for court,” Darius said grimly as he started the engine. “Bench warrant’s already out.”

Joey gasped. “Wh-what?!”

But Zeke was already scrolling through contacts, muttering. “Aha—found Ronnie’s number.” His thumb hovered over the dial.

“Wait,” Joey said sharply. “Sh-shouldn’t Mom call? So he doesn’t k-know we’re here yet?”

All three looked at Linda, who was staring out the window, too fogged to track the conversation. Zeke pressed his lips together, then nodded. “Fine. Text it is.”

He typed quick, trying to sound casual: “Hey, where’s Josh? Isn’t he done with court yet?”

They waited for a response, the minutes dragging like hours. Finally, Ronnie’s reply popped up: “I don’t know. He said some friend of his was picking him up. I’m busy, Mom. Can’t talk.”

“That’s bullshit,” Zeke muttered as his thumbs flew again: “I just called the courthouse. They said Josh never showed up! He’s got a bench warrant now!”

The reply came fast this time: “Lol! That’s on him. I dropped him off right at the front doors. Watched him go inside and everything. I did my part. Josh must’ve fucked it up—again. You know him, mom. He’s probably getting high with some friends or something.”

“He’s lying!” Zeke exploded. “I know he is!” He started to type something furious back—but another message dinged in before he could send it.

“Oh and hey? Did you hear Joey’s coming home today? I was wondering if you’d seen him yet.”

The air in the car froze. Joey went white. Darius’s hands tightened on the wheel until his knuckles ached.

Zeke growled low, deleting what he’d written. He typed: “No. Haven’t seen Joey today.”

Ronnie’s answer came smooth and fast: “Cool. Well let me know if he shows up. And I’ll be by for the trunk-or-treat thing tonight. Gonna see the kids. Catch you later!”

Zeke tossed the phone onto the seat beside him, defeated. “Fuck. He had something to do with this. I know it.” His voice cracked, sharp with helpless anger.

Darius nodded slowly, eyes on the road. “Yeah. Agreed.”

Joey twisted in his seat, pale and trembling. “So… wh-what do we do?”

“We wait,” Darius said. “Ronnie’ll show his face tonight. We talk to him in person. Until then, we hope we’re wrong, and Josh turns up on his own.”

Zeke scrubbed at his face, tears streaking down his cheeks. “We should be looking for him. You said your boss—Vinnie—he works out of Cleveland?”

“Yeah,” Darius said carefully. “But no guarantee Josh would be there. Ronnie’s our best lead. For now, we wait.”

“That’s wasting time!” Zeke snapped, voice breaking. “What if they’re hurting him right now? What if they’re gonna kill him?!”

Darius’s jaw flexed. “If Vinnie’s got Josh, it’s not to kill him. Yet. Right now, he’s bait. They want to lure us. Question is—where? We don’t know yet. And until we do, we sit tight.”

Zeke sagged against the seat, muttering curses under his breath.

Joey finally spoke, soft but firm. “W-we should take Mom h-home anyway. She needs to l-lie down.”

Zeke groaned, furious and miserable, but didn’t argue.

Darius just pressed harder on the gas, steering them out of downtown.

Twenty minutes later, the hybrid rolled quiet back into Joey’s old neighborhood, tires hissing over cracked asphalt. Darius pulled into the curb a block down from the house and killed the engine.

“Let’s go,” he muttered.

Joey was out first, circling to his mother’s side. Darius followed him and when Linda struggled, he caught her before she could stumble, hoisting her carefully against his chest. She was light, boneless, smelling faintly of baby powder. Joey hovered close while Zeke trailed with a stormy expression, Linda’s phone still clutched in his hand.

They cut through the side alley again, weeds brushing their jeans, until Joey’s old peeling back fence came into view. The dogs went berserk again as they entered the yard, claws scraping at the back door until Zeke slipped them out into the yard. They scattered into the grass, barking like maniacs before breaking into loops of play.

While Joey, Darius, and Linda edged inside, Zeke stayed in the yard with the dogs for a moment, messing with his borrowed phone for the hundredth time since Joey had handed it to him. He was probably trying to message Josh again. Poor kid.

In the kitchen, Joey guided Darius to his parents’ room at the back of the house. The room was dark like a cave, and the bed sagged with the weight of years, but it was clean, neatly made. Darius eased Linda down onto the mattress while Joey fussed around her—pillows fluffed, blankets drawn up, a glass of water fetched from the tiny attached half-bath. Linda barely stirred, murmuring something half-coherent before drifting back under.

“She’ll be alright,” Darius said quietly. “Water and rest. That’s all she needs right now.”

Joey nodded, but his face stayed tight, green eyes raw with worry.

Darius kissed Joey’s forehead, gently stroked his hair back, then left him to tend to his mother as he drifted back toward the front of the house. As he went, he scanned everything automatically, the corners, the windows, the outlets, the furniture. When he reached the living room again, he crouched near the coffee table, and a dark glint caught his eye under the lip of the wood. He reached under, fingers closing around a tiny, plastic-bodied stick-on mic.

A cold spike shot through him. Goddamn it. Vinnie’s got ears in the house.

He pried the thing free, wires snapping with a little crackle, and straightened just as Joey padded in from the hall. A beat later, Zeke slipped inside too, shutting the back door behind him and leaving the dogs outside to circle.

Darius held up the mic between two fingers. “Look what I found.”

Both Joey and Zeke froze, their faces draining.

“H-how long’s that b-been there?” Joey whispered.

Darius’s mouth thinned. “Long enough.”

The silence was thick until Zeke broke it, his voice sharp, almost desperate. “Well, if we’re investigating—let’s check out Josh’s room. You said it was down in the basement, right?” He jerked his chin toward the back of the living room.

Joey moved fast, almost protective, like he had to defend the place. “I-it was my room first,” he blurted, and hurried to open the basement door behind the couch.

“Jeez, defensive much?” Zeke rolled his eyes but followed close on his heels. “You’ve been in my room like 5 times already. Calm down.”

Darius chuckled low in his throat, shaking his head as he brought up the rear. The air that wafted up from the basement stairs was damp and cool, carrying the smell of wet concrete, laundry soup, and the faint haze of smoke baked into the walls.

His instincts prickled as he set a hand against the frame, watching the two younger men disappear into the shadows below.

If Vinnie had a mic up here… what the hell’s waiting down there?

At the bottom of the stairs, Joey led them down a short hallway that split into a few different rooms. One door was halfway open, hiding a small bathroom, but Joey went to the one across from it and nudged it open with his shoe.

He flicked on the overhead light, and Darius blinked, a little overwhelmed by the garish checkerboard red and black spray paint used to color the walls—black squares uneven, corners bleeding a little where a younger Joey’s hand had slipped. A rusted stop sign hung crooked above the bed, glaring red against the chaos.

Joey moved through the space like someone showing off a museum exhibit, trying too hard to sound casual. “Th-this is my space. M-me and Josh built this all out after Mom and Dad b-bought the place. Put up these walls, f-finished out the bathroom. It was all open d-down here before.” He touched the edge of his dresser with something almost proud in his voice. “It’s not perfect, but we m-made it ours. For real.”

Darius scanned the space. Clothes lay in a heap by the dresser, the bedspread twisted into knots, the nightstand littered with rolling papers and a cheap lighter. A bong stood tall, bold and unapologetic. The place carried the smell of boys too young to care about order, too stubborn to call it anything but freedom.

Zeke turned in a slow circle, taking it all in, too, lips quirking faintly. “Not bad,” he said. Then, without hesitation, he flopped onto the mattress like it belonged to him, arms out, hair spilling against the pillow. “Kinda cozy.”

Joey stiffened. “Hey—that’s still t-technically my bed,” he muttered, color rising in his face.

Zeke only smiled wider, rolling onto his stomach. He pressed his face deep into the pillow, inhaling like he was searching for something. His voice came muffled, strangely tender. “Smells like him.”

Joey’s face twisted, unhappy. “You’ve n-never even m-met Josh. How can you already know what he smells like?”

But Zeke wasn’t listening. His hand slipped beneath the pillow, idly at first, like he was fidgeting. Then his expression shifted—surprise, tension in his shoulders. Slowly, he pulled something out.

First, the slick plastic of a bottle of lube. Then, a heavy, flesh-colored dildo.

The room froze.

Zeke held them awkwardly in his hands, blinking down, mouth opening and closing. His voice cracked when it finally came out. “Uh… Joey… this isn’t yours, right?”

Joey’s entire body jolted back. “What?! N-no! No way!” His face burned scarlet, horror written across every line. “Th-that’s not mine! Oh my God—” He shook his head violently, words tumbling in his rush. “Josh isn’t… h-he doesn’t… he’s not like that.”

But the evidence sat heavy between them.

Darius’s eyes tracked to the dresser and to the mess of items scattered across it. A crumpled receipt sat half-hidden under a couple spare pennies. He pulled it free, unfolded the paper. The ink was fresh, timestamped from yesterday afternoon. The name of a local sex shop was stamped bold across the top and below the listed purchases plain as day.

His gut clenched.

“Christ,” he muttered, handing it over.

Zeke stared at the slip like it was a lifeline, his breath stuttering. His eyes glassed up, wide and wet. “He bought it last night. He was… he was getting ready for me.”

His chest hitched, a sob choking free. He dropped the toys onto the bed like they’d betrayed him and raked both hands through his hair, jumping up so he could pace the room. “Oh my God. He was waiting for me. He was… fuck. And now—now he’s gone.”

The words tore out of him raw, hopeless.

Joey hovered close to the wall, pale and stricken, watching his brother’s secrets spill across the bed. His voice was small, almost childlike. “Josh… oh my God…”

Darius felt the truth settle cold in his gut. This wasn’t just some careless addict skipping court. This was deliberate. A snatch.

Zeke turned fast, breath ragged, desperation burning hot. “I can’t—I can’t just sit here. I need to do something… I can’t stay in here another second.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and before either of them could stop him, he bolted for the stairs.

***

Zeke didn’t even bother sneaking. He went out the front door, letting it bang shut behind him, the dogs barking madly through the window as he hit the pavement. So what if the mob was watching? Let them. Let them see him coming. He didn’t care anymore. Josh was out there somewhere—tied up probably, scared, waiting—and he couldn’t just sit in that house with Darius playing commander while Joey fussed over his pill-popped mom. He couldn’t.

The air outside was sharp, the kind that cut your lungs, but Zeke barely felt it. He just needed to move.

His sneakers scuffed the cracked sidewalk, carrying him deeper into Warren’s sprawling neighborhoods. A rusted-out Buick sat crooked in one driveway, weeds growing tall through its undercarriage. A boarded-up house sat on the corner, covered in faded graffiti, while outside, a couple of kids kicked a flat basketball in the gutter, their laughter hollow.

Zeke’s chest burned as he strode past it all, his every thought fixed on Josh. That crooked, hesitant smile from their first video call—like sunlight breaking through clouds. The way he tried to hide his true feelings behind sarcasm and crude jokes, only to give himself away in the softest moments. And his voice—the last time they’d talked—shaking with desperation, weighted with longing, as if Zeke alone was the lifeline keeping him afloat.

It had been chance, pure accident, that their paths crossed. A spark Zeke wasn’t looking for, had never even believed he’d find. But now it was everything. Josh had become the gravity pulling him forward, the reason his heart beat faster, the reason every step felt heavier and more urgent.

Zeke wanted to see what they could be—if their messy edges could fit together, if this fragile thing could grow into love. But he couldn’t even try. Not while Josh was out there, trapped in someone else’s hands. Not while the seconds kept spilling past, faster and faster, like sand through an hourglass. And each grain slipping away felt like losing him all over again.

I swear to God, Ronnie, Zeke thought, fists clenching. You set him up. And you’re gonna pay for it.

Up ahead, raised voices cut through his storm. In a gravel driveway, a man and a woman stood nose-to-nose, both strung out and ragged. The guy’s shirt was stained with grease, a pack of smokes bulging his pocket, his jaw twitching like he hadn’t slept in days. “You sold it all, didn’t you? Every last fuckin’ pill—gone!”

The woman’s eyes were hollow, mascara streaking down her cheeks. She clutched at her sweatshirt like it might hold her together. “I had to, Marty! The kids haven’t eaten in two days! We needed money for food—”

“Food?” He barked a harsh laugh, spittle flying. “Don’t you dare blame this on the kids. You pawned my stash for your shit, didn’t you?!”

“I didn’t!” she screamed, but her voice cracked. “I just wanted them to have dinner, just once without ramen or cereal—”

“Liar!” He shoved her hard, sending her stumbling against the hood of a dented pickup. She gasped, holding her ribs.

Then, from inside the house came the thin wail of a baby, followed by another child’s voice shouting, “Mommy?” The sound barely carried over the man’s rage.

Zeke froze on the sidewalk, stomach twisting. For half a second, he thought about stepping in—but no one else even blinked. A neighbor across the street kept mowing his patchy lawn, eyes glued to the ground. A woman calmly unloaded her toddler and some grocery bags from her car two houses down. The kids behind Zeke kept kicking that stupid, flat ball. The whole street acted like this was normal, background noise in Warren.

Zeke swallowed hard, bile rising in his throat. “Jesus,” he muttered, forcing himself forward again, heat burning in his chest. “This place sucks.”

He quickened his pace, sweat beading on his neck despite the chill. He was almost at Wally’s now. They’d passed it three times already today, the little store standing stubborn at the corner, but this time his eyes locked on the two vans parked in the lot. The black paint was dull under the overcast sky, engines idling. The FBI detail hadn’t moved. Patient. Watching.

Zeke’s throat tightened. This was it. If he wanted to face Ronnie later—if he wanted even a shred of power to stand across from the man who’d sold Josh out—he needed backup. A weapon, something. He wasn’t asking to be saved. He wasn’t asking them to fix it for him. He just needed something in his hand when he looked Ronnie in the eye. Something that said he wasn’t just another victim.

He jogged the last few steps across the cracked lot, heart hammering, and approached the first van. Its windows were tinted, the body dull under the weak sun, but he could feel the eyes on him before he even reached the curb. He straightened his shoulders, jaw tight, and marched right up.

“Hey, guys!” His voice cracked but he forced it louder. “I know we haven’t officially met or anything, but I could use some assistance.”

The driver’s window rolled down halfway. A square-jawed man in mirrored shades looked him over, unreadable.

Zeke leaned close, words spilling fast. “We’ve got a hostage situation. Joey’s brother—Josh. And it involves Joey’s other brother, Ronnie. Definitely mob-related. He’ll be coming by the house in a couple hours for some family thing. This is really important and I need to play the part, okay? I need to act tough. So I need a gun.”

Agent One didn’t blink. “Yeah. No.” His voice was flat steel. “We’re not officially arming a civilian.”

Zeke’s frustration spiked, heat flashing in his chest. “C’mon, man. Listen to me. Ronnie’s tied up with Vinnie—the mob boss you’re after. This is a setup to get Darius and Joey, can’t you see that? And right now we’ve got a chance to gather intel, to get proof to take them all down. But if you just sit on your hands, we lose that chance.”

From the passenger seat, Agent Two looked over, already pulling out his phone. “I’ll call Riley.”

They spoke in low voices for a minute, code words Zeke couldn’t follow, but finally Agent Two hung up and nodded. “Cleared. Riley wants him wired.”

Agent One jerked his chin toward the side door. “Get in.”

The inside of the van smelled like cold vinyl. Agent Two moved with efficient hands—tiny microphone taped under Zeke’s collarbone, a slim pack strapped to his waist, a lead clipped to the pack for the live feed. The wire felt oddly intimate, a cold promise against his ribs.

Zeke pulled his hood back up so it sat low over his eyes, and for a sliver of time the old, goofy bravado came back. He let his hand rest where a gun could have been—thumb hooked in his pocket as if hiding cold metal. “Listen up, Ronnie,” he said out loud, just loud enough for the agents and for whatever else might be listening. “I’m comin’ for you. I’m gonna save Josh ‘cause I promised him I would. I’m gonna pull him out of those sharks’ teeth and that’s final.”

“Alright, tough guy. You’re making this sound more heroic than it is,” Agent One said with a chuckle. “You know we don’t want you playing secret agent.”

Zeke’s fingers curled in the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m not asking for a stunt. I’m asking for a chance.”

Agent One didn’t look convinced. He paused, then reached past Zeke and produced a battered Kevlar vest from the back of the van. “If you’re going to posture—if you’re going to go out there looking like you’ve got a piece, at least don’t go out there without something between you and the other guys. You pull off a move and you’re not armed. You’ll get blown away.”

Zeke stared at the vest like it was a small mercy. He had been picturing a gun, iron cold and satisfying in his hand—something to point, something to make Ronnie flinch. The vest was quieter. Practical. He nodded before he had time to think.

“Fine,” he said, voice softer than his storm. “Put it on.”

They cinched it tight. The weight of it settled across his chest, heavy but oddly steadying, like a promise that whatever came next would be faced hard. Agent Two clipped the last wire to the pack and gave him the small earpiece. “You won’t hear much. That’s normal. Just let him talk. And we’ll record everything.”

Zeke nodded solemnly. “Alright.”

Agent Two glanced back. “We’ll set up a soft perimeter around the house. But we won’t move in unless you use the keyword.”

Zeke frowned. “What’s the word?”

“Pumpkin,” Agent Two said dryly. “Fitting, yeah? You say pumpkin, we roll.”

Zeke gave a short laugh, sharp and humorless. “Got it. Pumpkin.”

Agent One fixed him with a hard stare. “Don’t attack this guy first. Let him talk. That’s the whole point of this.”

Zeke nodded, though his jaw clenched tight. “Yeah, sure.” But in his gut, all he wanted was to slam Ronnie against the wall and make him bleed. He could still hear Josh’s voice—quiet, ashamed—telling him about how Ronnie had slipped him pills in high school, how he’d dangled easy money until Josh was hooked, then pushed him to sell. That had landed Josh in jail for a year. And he’d swore he’d learned, swore he’d never let Ronnie trap him again. But here they were. Another trap, only this time it wasn’t just pills—it was his life.

Zeke’s throat burned. Fucking Ronnie… He adjusted the wire, swallowed hard. “I promised Josh I’d save him. And I don’t care what it takes… I’ll get him back. And honestly? That promise I made to Josh? Supersedes anything I’m gonna promise you now. Ronnie… might end up dying this weekend.”

Agent One’s gaze softened just slightly, but his words stayed clipped. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Zeke smirked faintly, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah. Let’s hope.”

They slid the side door open again, the cold Warren air rushing in.

Zeke hopped out, vest heavy under his hoodie, wire itching against his chest—but for the first time all day, he felt focused. Prepared. Every nerve screamed one thing, one name.

Josh.

He started back toward the Balas house, each step sharper than the last.

***

It was just past 3. Zeke had stormed out almost an hour ago, and the house hadn’t settled since. His absence left a raw, restless hole, one Joey couldn’t stop glancing toward the door to fill. Every creak of the old siding, every bark from the dogs out back, made him flinch like it might be Zeke coming back.

But it never was.

Instead, the silence grew heavier. The TV sat dark, the house still except for the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional sigh from Linda’s room. Joey had checked on her twice now, tiptoeing in and out to be sure she was breathing steady, her face pale but peaceful against the pillows. She looked fragile, like the wrong sound might splinter her to pieces.

Now Joey sat hunched on the arm of the recliner, his knees pulled up, chewing his thumbnail. Darius had gone quiet too, watching the front window with the patience of a man who knew better than to expect good news. The minutes dragged.

Then, at last, Darius’s phone buzzed in his pocket. The sharp sound made Joey jump.

Darius fished it out, glancing at the screen. His brow furrowed. “Riley.”

He thumbed the answer button and leaned back.

The old recliner creaked faintly as Darius settled in, phone pressed to his ear. Joey perched on the armrest, close enough to catch the gravelly voice of Agent Riley bleeding through.

“Zeke came to us. Asked for a gun. We wired him instead. He’s on foot, he should be back shortly.”

Darius pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering a low curse. “Yeah. I got it. Wire was smart. If he doesn’t blow the whole thing up first, maybe we’ll get something useful. I’ll keep him steady when he gets back.”

He ended the call with a swipe and let the phone drop to his lap. Joey’s heart gave a sharp twist.

“A wire,” Darius said flatly. “Now we can start building a case against Ronnie. Long overdue if you ask me. Zeke should be back within the hour.”

Joey stared at his hands. He felt guilty—Ronnie was his brother, even if Ronnie had hurt him, even if he’d dragged Josh into this mess. Nobody had forced Ronnie to walk down this road, but still… he was family. Joey wished the world wasn’t pushing him into choosing sides, but here he was, sitting in his parents’ dim living room with his mom asleep in the next room, waiting for one brother and fearing for another.

His chest ached. He wasn’t even sure which brother went with the corresponding emotions battling for dominance inside him.

The silence pressed too heavy. And for a second, he didn’t know what to do. But then, an idea popped into his head and he slid down off the armrest, settling on the floor between Darius’s legs. The carpet itched at his knees and Darius gave him a wary look, brow furrowing as Joey’s trembling fingers tugged at his zipper.

“What are you doing?” Darius’s voice was low, warning. “Your mom’s right in the other room.”

Joey tilted his face up, green eyes huge and wet, puppy-soft. His voice cracked when he whispered, “Please. Let me. I just… I need to feel something. Something good. Just for a minute. Please, Darius. I need this.”

For a long second, Darius stared down at him, jaw tight, torn between reason and the raw need in Joey’s eyes. Then, wordlessly, he let his hands fall open on the armrests.

Joey’s breath hitched. His fingers fumbled, clumsy, but finally he worked the zipper down. He didn’t waste another second, he pulled Darius’s slowly awakening erection through the flap in his jeans. He knew the walk from Wally’s took about 40 minutes, 30 if you walked fast, so they didn’t have a lot of time.

Immediately, Joey took Darius’s cockhead into his mouth and the second he did, they both moaned at the delicious sensation. Joey loved the way Darius felt against his tongue, loved the smell of his sweat mixed with musk, loved the deep, forbidden taste, and even more, he loved the way it made Darius react.

Darius’s eyes fell partway shut as he gently dropped a heavy hand on the back of Joey’s head. He watched as Joey eagerly sucked and pleasured the first half of his cock, his dark eyes tracking Joey’s movements with tangible desire. “You’re really getting good at that, baby. Seriously… you could teach classes.”

“Mmm,” Joey moaned appreciatively, swirling his tongue expertly around the head so he could tease the sensitive underside. And he was getting good. He knew what he was doing now. At this point in their relationship, he could play Darius’s cock like an instrument.

Darius’s mouth fell open around another helpless groan as Joey sucked him just right. His lips were wet and incredibly tempting and Joey wanted to taste them. He pushed himself to take another couple inches of Darius’s big cock, his throat closing tight around the throbbing head. He bobbed his head like that a few more times, making sure the entire length was slick with his saliva, then he released Darius completely, stood up, popped the button on his jeans, and hurriedly pulled down the zipper. He ripped his pants down, planted a hand firm on Darius’s chest, then climbed right in his lap.

Darius gazed up at him in surprise, but they both knew what Joey was going to do. Anticipation hung heavy in the air as he reached back and grabbed Darius’s wet cock, angling it upward as he shifted his hips back.

They both moaned again when Darius’s cock made contact, and slowly, Joey impaled himself. Growling low in his throat, Darius grabbed Joey’s hips in a death grip as he gradually sank lower, stuck between the desire to hold him steady and to pull him down harder, to bury his cock deeper.

And Joey wanted that, too, but oh god, it burned. Darius really was big and they’d never done this without lube. The saliva, while decent, wasn’t nearly as slick as the stuff in their bag back in the car. But Joey wasn’t about to back down now. He wrapped both his arms around Darius’s neck and dove in for a kiss, focusing all his attention on the press of Darius’s lips, the slide of their tongues meeting in an intimate dance. It was perfect and Joey instantly felt himself relax, his body giving in almost on instinct.

Darius kissed him back passionately, gripping Joey’s hips all the while. Like always, he was patient and let Joey set the pace even though Joey could feel the need inside him growing. And it was growing inside Joey, too. As Joey’s tight little asshole finally kissed the base of Darius’s cock, he realized his dick was raging hard between them, pulsing with passion, already leaking with pre-come.

The burning had faded, too, and Joey pulled back from the kiss, beaming.

“Is that what you needed, baby?” Darius asked sweetly, unable to resist Joey’s sunny grin and smiling back. “An ass full of cock?”

“Yesss,” Joey hissed, grabbing onto Darius’s shoulders as he tossed his head back. He started working his thigh muscles, lifting himself up halfway, then letting go and letting gravity drive Darius’s cock back inside him. It felt wonderful and he kept doing it, going faster, sweat beading along his hairline as he worked up to a frantic pace, fucking himself over and over again, his hard dick bouncing crazily between them, ready to squirt.

Darius still had a good grip on Joey’s hips, and he lunged forward with a growl, thrusting his cock up into Joey’s body as Joey forced himself down, fucking himself deeper and deeper into the boy’s open body. He started licking and sucking Joey’s exposed throat, as well, drinking down his soft, needy, only partially muffled sounds of pleasure. And worse, the sound of their skin slapping together and the wet squelching of Joey’s asshole being repeatedly pounded filled the little room, making their actions extremely obvious to any nearby listeners.

But Joey didn’t care. Not now. He just wanted to come.

He shifted his hips back a bit more, then slammed his ass back down on Darius’s cock and nearly screamed with delight when Darius nailed his prostate. He held position and did the same move a few more times, fireworks erupting behind his tightly closed eyelids as Darius surged up to meet him each time, making it a hundred times better.

Joey couldn’t help himself, he screamed like a little bitch when he came. He rode Darius a few times more, his movements jerky as his cock spilled it’s seed all over Darius’s new hoodie, then, finally, he collapsed against Darius’s chest.

Darius hugged Joey tight as he fucked his limp body from below. He lasted a few more breathless moments before he came, too, filling Joey with a tangible warmth.

Joey sagged against Darius’s chest in the aftermath, every nerve still trembling, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might never slow. Darius held him close, broad hands steady on his back, grounding him while their breath mingled in the quiet room.

For a while, nothing existed but the warmth between them.

Then Darius kissed Joey’s temple and whispered against his hair, low and certain, “I love you.”

Joey’s chest squeezed so hard it almost hurt. He pressed his lips to the curve of Darius’s throat and whispered back, “I love you too.”

Darius leaned back enough to look him in the eyes, dark gaze steady and fierce. “It’s gonna be alright, baby. We’ll find Josh. We’ll get through this part, and soon Riley will clear our names. Then we can start our real life. Together.”

Joey swallowed, clinging to the words like a lifeline. The thought of a real life—no more running, no more looking over his shoulder, just him and Darius—lit something warm and fragile inside him. He wanted it so badly he could taste it.

But it still felt far away. Too many storms still between them and that clear horizon. They hadn’t even flipped Ralph yet, hadn’t even begun the part of the deal that was supposed to buy them freedom. And now Josh and Ronnie had crashed into the middle of everything, making it all feel like one big knot Joey didn’t know how to untangle.

He sighed and finally pulled himself out of the recliner, stretching his sore muscles. “We’d better get dressed before Zeke comes back.”

He glanced toward the TV stand to check the clock, and his eyes got huge—30 minutes had passed, and his stomach dropped. “Shit.” He scrambled for his jeans. He hadn’t even thought about it until now, but, “Dad’ll be home any minute!”

Panic jolted through him. The idea of Ronnie Sr. walking in on this—on them—was enough to send him bolting into the kitchen and into the hallway beyond it. He slipped into the bathroom, frantically cleaning himself up at the sink, splashing water, yanking his jeans back up with trembling fingers. His nerves buzzed worse with every second that passed.

Because once his dad came home, it wouldn’t be long before Sara showed up with the kids. And after that… Ronnie. Joey’s throat tightened.

He hurried out of the bathroom, heart hammering, only to find Darius bent over the kitchen sink. The man had stripped off his hoodie and was working a dishrag through the fabric, scrubbing at the mess Joey had left behind. Water ran in a steady stream, and the sight of Darius—so big, so capable, doing something so ordinary—sent a rush of emotion through Joey.

He stepped behind him and wrapped his arms around Darius’s waist, pressing his cheek against the man’s solid back. Just needing to feel him.

And then, the front door hinges groaned.

Joey’s entire body went stiff as footsteps sounded. A heavy shuffle across the floor.

Ronnie Sr. waddled into the kitchen, empty lunch box dangling from his hand. He froze in the doorway, eyes going wide.

“…Joey?”

Joey jerked back from Darius like he’d been caught stealing red handed, guilt flushing his pale face. “H-hi, Dad…” he stammered, his voice too small, too boyish.

Ronnie Sr. just stood there, frozen in the kitchen doorway with his empty lunchbox hanging at his side. His eyes swept over Joey, then slid slowly, deliberately, to Darius. The muscles in his jaw twitched, but he didn’t say a word.

Joey tried to explain, his mouth opening and closing, but nothing came out but fragments. “I-I just… uh… Dad, this is… w-we—”

A cough from down the hall cut him off. Linda’s voice, weak but clear enough: “Ron?”

The old man finally moved, setting his lunch box on the table before stepping past the two of them without a word. Joey scrambled after him, Darius following steady and grim.

In the master bedroom, Linda struggled upright as Ron came in. Her hair was mussed from the pillow, her face too pale. Still, she managed a thin smile for her husband. “I was just… getting ready for trunk-or-treat tonight, when Joey showed up with some new friends.” She gave Ron a loaded look, worry flickering across her expression. “And honey, I think something’s going on with the boys. Joey says Josh is in trouble. And… Ronnie had something to do with it.”

Ron’s head turned slowly, his heavy gaze fixing on Joey, then Darius. His silence pressed like a weight.

Darius stepped forward, shoulders squared. “She’s avoiding another part of the story, Mr. Balas. That trunk-or-treat prep? Linda nearly overdosed on pain pills earlier today. And from what I hear, this isn’t the first time. She’s been pushing herself too hard, trying to keep up with everyone’s demands.”

Linda flinched, her eyes darting down.

Ron’s jaw worked tight, but still he didn’t speak.

Darius’s voice sharpened. “You’re enabling her. If she’s truly in pain, she needs medical help, not a handful of pills from her friend down the road. And if she can’t drive, insurance offers free rides to appointments. You two need to take this seriously. Because what’s going on now? It’s going to kill her.”

Joey blurted in, his voice shaking, stutter dragging on every word. “H-he’s right, Dad. I’ve been w-watching over Mom for years, b-but… I’ve got a new life now. D-Darius… he’s my boyfriend. I w-want to be with him. I don’t want to l-live here anymore, but I d-don’t want Mom to die either. Please, can you t-try better? Can you take care of her for real?”

Ronnie Sr. blinked, visibly shocked. His mouth twitched, but no sound came.

Darius pressed, calmer now. “She told us she’s with the grandkids a lot. Do you really want to risk her OD’ing while she’s alone with them?”

Ron shook his head once, heavy and certain.

“Then her workload needs to ease up,” Darius continued. “She’s drowning. She’s not supposed to feel this alone.”

For a long moment, the only sound was Linda’s uneven breathing. Then Ron sank down on the bed beside her, his big hand swallowing hers. He didn’t say a word, but the way Linda’s eyes filled, the way she leaned into him, was answer enough.

Joey’s chest ached at the sight. For the first time in years, he saw something like tenderness pass between his parents. He let out a shaky breath, wiping at his damp lashes.

Then front door banged open down the hall. “Yo! Guys?!” Zeke’s voice carried from the living room, sharp with energy. “It’s almost four—Ronnie’s gonna be here soon!”

Joey winced, half-laughing through his nerves. “Th-that’s our friend, Z-Zeke. He’s… kinda a lot. But he’s cool.”

Ronnie Sr. didn’t move, didn’t speak. His gaze stayed on Linda, his hand tight around hers.

Joey glanced once more at them—his parents locked in their fragile silence—before Darius touched his arm, guiding him gently back toward the door. Together, they left the bedroom to meet Zeke’s storm head-on.

Zeke was practically vibrating with excitement when Darius and Joey entered the living room again. He yanked his hoodie up like it was a magic trick, flashing the square edge of the wire taped under his shirt and the padded outline of a bulletproof vest.

“Cool right?” he said, then dropped his hoodie back into place again, grinning and flushed with adrenaline. “We’re gonna catch Ronnie right in the middle of his lie! This is gonna be awesome. I’ll bet this revenge has been building for years.”

Joey just stared at him, his stomach twisting into knots. Awesome wasn’t the word he’d use. Necessary, maybe. Long overdue. But awesome? No. He rubbed his hands over his jeans, wishing he could borrow some of Zeke’s certainty. Ronnie did have this coming—he’d been poison for all of them for as long as Joey could remember. Still, the thought of turning his brother into evidence made Joey’s chest hurt.

Before he could say anything, Linda and Ronnie Sr. emerged from the hallway and into the kitchen. Ron moved straight for the fridge without a word, grabbed himself a beer, then lumbered into the living room and dropped into his recliner. He spared no mind for Joey and his companions, just thumbed on the TV, the blue light washing over his heavy face.

Linda, on the other hand, tried for brightness. “Anybody hungry?” she asked, already at the stove. “I’m warming up Hamburger Helper.”

Zeke’s hand shot up. “Yep! Starving.”

Joey blinked at him, then managed a weak smile and followed him toward the kitchen. He wasn’t really hungry, not with the knot in his gut, but he knew he needed to eat. Fuel. Something to steady him for what was coming.

Darius’s hand settled heavy and warm on his shoulder. “We should eat before the kids show up,” he said quietly.

Joey nodded, leaning into the touch for half a heartbeat.

They took seats at the table as Linda bustled, clattering plates and forks, trying to make everything look normal. Zeke tapped the tabletop impatiently, his knee bouncing under the wood. Darius sat still, hands folded, like a stone in the storm. Joey tried to breathe evenly, his eyes flicking every few seconds to the clock on the wall.

The dogs barked faintly from the backyard, paws pounding the dirt as they chased each other in circles. Normal noise. Ordinary life. Joey wished he could sink into it, but the numbers on the clock pulled him back: exactly 4 p.m. Sara and Ronnie would be here soon.

He tried to calm down, but his body knew better. The confrontation was coming.

Linda scooped out steaming helpings, setting the first plate down in front of Joey with a little smile before serving her other two guests. Then, she made her way to the living room and set a tray on Ronnie Sr.’s lap—Hamburger Helper and another cold beer. Before she turned back for the kitchen, she bent to kiss him softly on the lips.

Ron accepted the food without a word, but his returning kiss was real, unforced, and Joey couldn’t help smiling. Maybe, just maybe, something was changing for them. Maybe things didn’t have to stay broken forever.

After they’d finished eating, the three of them retired to the living room with Ronnie Sr.. About an hour had passed and the house was quiet except for the low murmur of the TV and Linda clinking dishes in the kitchen. Joey had just let the dogs in, and Kush and Capone had claimed his and Darius’s laps on the couch. Scooby pressed against Zeke at the far end, tail thumping wildly as Zeke scratched behind his ears until the dog kicked spastically at the carpet.

For a minute, it almost felt normal.

Then the front door banged open, and chaos spilled in.

“Uncle Joey!”

Three voices rang out at once, high-pitched and thrilled. Isabel swept in first, black tulle and silver stars swishing around her skinny legs. Brian darted right after, already whipping his plastic ninja sword through the air with a dramatic “hiya!” And little Tay-Tay barreled in last, sparkly purple wings strapped to her back, her squeaky voice crowing, “Bat! I’m a bat!”

Sara followed, juggling her purse and her phone. She was mid-scroll when her eyes lifted and fell on Joey—then froze. The phone slipped from her hand, bouncing off the carpet.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, then started laughing, sharp and delighted. “Joey. You’re home… and with a guy.”

Heat flared in Joey’s face so fast it made his ears sting. Josh’s loose talk, the rumors he’d spread about that day Darius had punched him and then hustled Joey out of Wally’s—it all came rushing back, and here he was, sitting side by side with two guys, strangers, both way hotter than anything his family probably imagined.

Sara smirked, eyes flicking between Darius and Zeke. “So which one are you fucking? They’re both pretty cute.”

Joey’s mouth fell open, words jammed in his throat. “I-I-I—” He stammered uselessly, cheeks burning.

Then, Darius lifted one hand, calm and steady. “That’d be me.”

Sara threw her head back and laughed again. “Wow. Good job, Joey. So… you were keeping this in the closet all these years, huh?” Her teasing wasn’t cruel, just relentless, the kind of older-sibling ribbing Joey had always hated. His face felt like it might combust.

Finally, she waved it off, still chuckling as she scooped up her phone. “Whatever. I’m glad you’re home.” She disappeared toward the kitchen, calling out to Linda about the kids’ candy bags.

The children, unbothered, crept closer.

Tay-Tay marched up first, wings flapping, chin lifted proudly. “I’m a bat!” she declared again, and flapped so hard one wing bent sideways.

Darius bent down without hesitation, large fingers gentle as he adjusted the sparkly strap back into place. “There,” he said. “Perfect. Though… bats don’t usually make noise humans can hear.”

Tay-Tay gasped, then squealed and took off running in circles, flapping her wings and screeching at the top of her lungs anyway. Darius shook his head, grinning despite himself.

Brian shoved his ninja sword under Zeke’s nose next. “Check it out. Made it in art class. It’s real.”

Zeke took it like it was priceless, giving it a few practice swings. “Dude, this is awesome. Way cooler than anything I ever made in school.” Brian beamed, bouncing on his toes.

Isabel lingered behind them, twisting her dress in her hands. Joey leaned forward, giving her his softest smile. “You look… s-s-so spooky,” he said, admiring the stars glittering under the light.

Isabel’s cheeks pinkened. She leaned close, whispering shyly, “Your boyfriend’s cute.”

Joey’s heart squeezed. He pulled her into a hug, holding her small frame tight. For the first time since he’d stepped back into this house, he felt warmth bloom through his chest. This moment—family close, laughter spilling, the kids buzzing in their costumes—this alone made all the risk worth it.

Then, Sara and Linda came out of the kitchen at the same time, voices already sharp. Joey felt the shift instantly—the tension hit the room like a bomb.

“Oh, come on, Mom,” Sara groaned, throwing her hands up. “You guys can walk them around the church parking lot same as I can. And if Joey and his boyfriend are coming, they can even take pictures!”

Linda’s face pinched, her hand still damp from the dish towel she clutched. “This was your idea, Sara. You said you were coming. You can’t just skip out on Halloween. The kids are still young—this is a bonding moment they’ll remember for the rest of their lives.”

“But tonight’s the only time this guy can meet up with me!” Sara’s eyes sparkled with girlish excitement, her voice climbing. “He’s so fine, Mom. And he’s got a real job, too—maintenance for the city. Sends me selfies every day from work. He’s so cute!”

Joey rolled his eyes. Of course. Always another guy, another excuse to drop the kids like they were bags of groceries.

Before he could say anything, Darius’s voice cut in, deep and steady. “Sara.”

Sara turned, blinking like she’d forgotten he was there.

“I know we just met,” Darius said carefully, “but Joey and I have been taking care of your mom today. She took more pain pills than prescribed and had a bad reaction. Just before you came, we were talking about lessening her workload. She’s stretched too thin. She needs to focus on herself.”

Sara’s mouth twisted into a scoff. “So what?”

Darius’s eyes darkened, his voice hardening like iron. “So—you need to cancel that date. If Linda goes to this Halloween thing, she’s going as a guest. You need to do the parenting. You take the kids home after, you feed them, you put them to bed. They’re your responsibility, not your parents’. And that’s just how it’s going to be from now on.”

Sara stared at him, floored, her mouth opening and closing.

Joey’s heart pounded, but he found his voice, shaky and stuttering. “I-I’ve been saying this for a while now, Sara. You c-can’t keep dumping everything on Mom. It’s not f-fair to her, and it’s not f-fair to the kids. You n-need to be here. For them. Not out looking for some new guy t-to party with.”

Sara’s eyes flashed. “Shut up, Joey. You don’t know shit! You literally just came out of the closet, gay boy, so don’t tell me you know anything about anything!”

Joey flinched, but Darius was already leaning forward, his voice low, dangerous. “Watch it, Sara. Don’t take it out on him. You know we have a point. And I don’t think child services would look too kindly on the situation if your mom OD’d while she was watching your kids and you were out screwing around. You’d better think about what you want out of life, before life figures it out for you.”

Everyone looked at Sara, Linda, Ronnie Sr., the kids, as Sara’s face burned red, her eyes sparkling with rage. She opened her mouth to spit something back—

But then the front door opened.

Every head turned as Ronnie Jr. stepped inside.

And Ronnie’s eyes locked on Joey the second the door closed behind him. His jaw tightened as he called out, “What the hell, Mom? I told you to text me when Joey showed up. How long’s he been here?”

Before Linda could speak, Zeke held up her phone like a trophy. “Sorry. That was me you were texting. My phone kinda got smashed yesterday, so I’ve been using your mom’s, trying to get ahold of Josh. All we could figure out though,” his voice sharpened, “is that you’re the last person he was seen with.”

Ronnie scoffed, shifting on his feet, his eyes flicking around the room. “And who the fuck are you?”

Zeke grinned, hard and dangerous. “Josh’s soon-to-be lover. Once we rescue him, that is.”

Ronnie barked out a laugh. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my God,” Sara snorted, tossing her hair back. “What the hell’s going on? Josh is gay now, too? Wow. Living with Mom and Dad really takes a toll on a person.”

Joey shot up from the couch, his face red. “S-stop it! None of that’s important right now. Josh… r-really is missing. He didn’t show up for court today and the cops are looking for him.”

Ronnie waved it off with a scoff. “Then they’ll find him. He’s fine, I’m sure. Probably just got nervous, didn’t want to own up to his bullshit and bailed. I had nothing to do with it.”

He brushed past like the matter was closed, striding deeper into the room with a cocky swagger. His eyes flicked over the kids’ costumes and he muttered something rude about “cheap Halloween crap” before leaning down to kiss Linda on the cheek. He barely slowed as he brushed against Sara’s shoulder, heading into the kitchen.

The fridge door clunked open. A beer hissed as he popped the tab. Ronnie strolled back into the living room, smug, like the conversation was already over.

But Joey knew it wasn’t. Not even close.

“Funny thing, Ronnie,” Darius said suddenly, voice low, steady—dangerously steady. “You claim you dropped Josh at the courthouse. But the clerks say he never signed in. So either you’re lying, or something happened to him between your car and those steps.”

Ronnie sneered, puffing his chest out. “Man, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I dropped him off right at the doors. What he did after that ain’t my problem.”

“You don’t sound so sure.” Darius’s calm cut like steel. “And you don’t look sure either.”

Ronnie’s jaw twitched. His bravado faltered just a hair, and Sara, who had been half-smirking from behind the couch, frowned suddenly, narrowing her eyes. “Wait… Ronnie. What did you do?”

From the floor, Tay-Tay’s little voice piped up, trembling: “Is Uncle Josh okay?”

Brian clutched his toy sword tighter. “Yeah. Like, where is he?” while Isabel whispered, barely audible: “Is he hurt?”

The room pressed in, tight and suffocating. Linda’s face drained of color. Even Ronnie Sr., who rarely glanced from the TV, turned his head and stared hard at his eldest son.

“R-Ronnie, please,” Joey tried again, chiming in with the rest of his family. “Where is Josh? I-is he in danger right now?”

And Ronnie finally snapped, his temper breaking all at once. “Shut the fuck up! Jesus Christ, you all act like he’s a goddamn saint! He’s not! He’s a fucking junkie who screws up everything he touches! I don’t know where he is—and I don’t give a shit!”

The venom hung heavy in the air. The kids recoiled, Isabel burying her face in her witch dress, Brian hugging his sword to his chest, Tay-Tay morbidly flapping her bat wings. Linda gasped like he’d struck her. Sara’s face hardened, rage burning through her shock.

And then Zeke surged to his feet, hoodie bulging where his hand pressed into the pocket. His eyes blazed. “We’re not playing anymore.” His voice cracked like thunder. “Where’s Josh?”

Linda screamed, slapping her hand over her mouth. The illusion was too real—it looked like a gun. Ronnie froze, the color draining from his face, for once utterly speechless.

The silence was shattering. Then came the scrape of wood: Ronnie Sr.’s recliner creaking as he stood. Slow. Heavy. Unstoppable. The old man’s presence filled the room in a way it never had before.

“Kids. Sara. Linda.” His voice was gravel, deep and absolute. “We’re going to trunk-or-treat. I’m driving.”

“Dad!” Ronnie Jr. cried, panic sharp in his tone. “Help me!”

But Ronnie Sr. raised one massive hand, palm out, silencing him. His eyes cut like knives into his son’s face. Then, without another word, he turned his back. He put his arm around Linda’s shoulders, gathered up the kids, jerked his head for Sara to follow.

“Sounds like you boys got business to discuss,” he rumbled. “The four of you have a good evening.”

He herded his family through the door, Linda still shaken, Sara muttering under her breath, the kids clutching one another. The front door slammed behind them.

And on the side table, his half-finished beer sat sweating, abandoned.

The house shrank down to silence. Just the four of them now.

Darius stepped behind Zeke, steadying him with a hand between his shoulder blades. “We know you work for Vinnie, Ronnie. And we know you know why we’re here. So—Josh. Did they take him? What’s the price for his life?”

Ronnie’s bravado cracked. He laughed bitterly, but his eyes darted. “What do you think? He wants your lives. Obviously. Told me to give you a message—a riddle.” His lips curled. “Said you’d know where to go.”

Darius’s stare sharpened. “What riddle?”

Ronnie smirked, reciting with mocking flair:

“Find the place our fathers fed the fire and kept account,

Where red lights hum and iron’s echo never dies,

Where family blood and business met and money stacked in rounds,

Look for the grave of ironwork where our heirs still claim a throne,

There the past keeps its receipts—bring light and bring it home.”

Zeke barked out a laugh, harsh and jagged. “A fucking riddle? Are you kidding me? I should shoot you in the face just for that.”

Ronnie snapped, baring his teeth. “Fuck you, faggot.”

Joey flinched—his gut twisted—but Darius didn’t even blink.

Instead, he stepped forward, calm as ever, rubbing his jaw like he was already dissecting Ronnie’s riddle. “Well, okay... we need to find a place where family blood and business meet... that could be the club up in Cleveland. The Velvet Room.”

Zeke rolled his eyes and threw up a hand. “Didn’t I already say we should go there?”

Darius ignored him, voice low and sharp like a scalpel. “But it could be any of the Mancuso properties… They have more than you’d think. This riddle’s meant to make us chase ghosts, but ‘Where our fathers fed the fire and kept account…’ that line’s the kicker. I don’t think its referring to nightlife. That’s industry, bookkeeping, fathers building fortunes.”

He looked away, pacing just slightly, eyes narrowed like he was in one of those interrogation rooms they had on TV with a wall full of red string connecting motives and locations. “Maybe it’s not Cleveland at all. Could be the Mancuso funeral home in Lorain. I’ve been there. Once. Creepy place. But the line, ‘grave of ironwork’—that could point to mills, scrapyards, even a mortuary with iron vaults. Hmmm.”

Joey didn’t breathe. It felt like the whole room was suspended—just waiting on Darius to name the next move.

“We’ll check the funeral home first,” Darius decided.

Then he turned to Ronnie, expression flat and hard as a bullet casing. “And if that’s all you’ve got, then you’re coming with us. You can ride shotgun as our shield.”

He took one deliberate step closer, close enough Joey could feel the temperature drop.

“And if you’re lying…” Darius’s voice dropped a notch deeper, darker, “we’ll find out quick.”

“Oh, fuck that!” Ronnie lunged toward the back door.

He didn’t get far. Darius and Zeke moved as one—two contained storms. They hit Ronnie together, rough and immediate. He went down with a curse, scrambling, clawing for air. Two-on-one; he fought, but his strikes were sloppy, panicked. Zeke’s weight on his chest pinned his shoulders while Darius wrestled his arms behind him.

“Joey!” Darius barked over Ronnie’s curses. “Cord. Rope. Anything!”

Joey didn’t hesitate. He bolted for the basement like his feet had been waiting for the command, heart racing. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he dove at the tool bench, fingers scrambling through coils and spare nails until he grabbed a loop of heavy nylon rope. He ripped it free and thundered back up the stairs.

By the time he returned, Ronnie was thrashing, spit flying, face screwed into a mask of fury and betrayal. Joey didn’t look, he handed the rope over.

Darius moved with steady hands—no hesitation—wrapping wrists, looping ankles, cinching until Ronnie’s panicked struggles sounded useless. Then he and Zeke gagged Ronnie with his own shirt to shut the noise. Once he was still, Darius straightened, pulling out his phone. He dialed Riley.

“You hear all that? We’re going up to Lorain. Tonight. Have your detail shadow us, but keep your distance. We’ve got Ronnie, restrained. And if we don’t find anything at the funeral home. We’ll go to Cleveland next. If we’re lucky, maybe Ralph will be at the Velvet Room—it’s his usual Friday haunt.”

Riley gave the go and Darius ended the call, satisfaction hard in his jaw. He tossed Joey the car keys. “Go. Grab the car. Park it in the drive. We’re leaving Warren. No point hiding now.”

Joey caught the keys, took one last look at his brother thrashing against the ropes—eyes burning with hate and fear—and then he ran. He burst out the front door, lungs burning, every step a drumbeat toward whatever came next.