JULIAN
Vera
Friday, November 16
“Ilove you, Scotty,” I whispered against his ear in bed. “I belong to you, and you belong to me.”
“Care to prove it again?” Alistair teased, guiding my hand over his thick arousal.
“I thought I already did that last night,” I murmured, sliding my hand away to rub where I still ached—my sore ass cheeks.
“Do you need more salve?” he asked, reaching for the ointment on his bedside table.
“Mmm, that would be nice,” I hummed, rolling on my stomach in invitation.
I felt the soothing sensation of the salve as it was rubbed on my cheeks. Alistair’s nimble fingers massaged some of it on my swollen labia, sore from our rough lovemaking. I glanced at the leather whip and the silk scarf on the floor, then rubbed my wrists and smiled.
“Shall I make coffee for you, sweetheart?” His green eyes radiated tender passion.
“Yes. Before you get up, I’d like a kiss.”
“Of course,” he said, nuzzling into me. His tantalizing kisses teased my mouth, neck, shoulders, and back.
About an hour later, after finishing my second cup of coffee with a dash of Irish cream, I swam naked in our private pool while he was on a call with a business associate. There was no need to hide my skin from my lover. With him, there was no need to hide. He gave me the same—his body, his soul laid bare.
All except one thing.
The secret etched into the scar on his back.
After my morning swim, I towel-dried and let my gaze linger on the skyline glittering above the Arabian Gulf. For a fleeting moment, life looked picture-perfect. Then came the twist—sharp, cruel—another knife to the heart, the kind of blade that left a wound no beauty could disguise.
A touch on my shoulder pulled me around. Alistair stood there, lips pressed thin, brows furrowed with concern. He held out my phone.
“It’s Sapphire,” he said. “We spoke briefly. You need to take this call. It’s about Julian.”
“Saph, slow down,” I said, trying to make sense of her words in between her sobs.
“Vee, something ha-happened to Ju-Julian.”
“Hold on, what? Weren’t you celebrating his birthday tonight?” I placed one hand on my stomach, which twisted with anxiety. Feeling my knees bend and lose their strength, I sat down.
“He went to his ex-girlfriend Jessie’s apartment earlier because she pulled out the suicide card. He said his visit wouldn’t take long, and he’d be at the restaurant in time for dinner. He never turned up.”
“Shit.” I shut my eyes and sighed. Julian’s ex-girlfriend was a nutcase, and he was an empathetic guy who didn’t ignore cries for help. I wondered if Jessie was crying wolf.
“A video was sent to me later on,” Saph said.
“What video?” My breathing tightened.
“I just sent it. I’ve got my boss’s senior advisor, Raphael Thomas, here with me. Remember, I dated him before Julian and I got back together? Well, Raph admitted Saira planned the whole damn thing. She’s out to hurt Julian.”
“How the fuck does he know?” I shouted. My pulse spiked. Of all people, I never trusted Raphael. We studied law in the same class, and he was slippery as an oil spill. He somehow wormed his way into Senator McGrath’s circle, handling most of the senator’s political affairs.
“Raphael admitted he was part of the charade. Saira bought him off with her money, cleared his college debts, and turned him into one of her whores. He turned up at the restaurant because she sent him to seduce me.”
“No.” I gasped for air. “I’ve got the video. I’ll watch it and call you back. Stay strong. We’ll find Julian and get him home.
“Okay. I think he’s still at Jessie’s. Raphael knows her place. He’s the one taking me.”
“Sure, but don’t go alone with him. I’ll talk to Alistair, and we’ll make sure you’ve got someone to protect you, okay? I’ll call you back.”
My hands trembled as I opened the video file. Alistair’s arm closed around me when I squeezed my eyes shut against the images on the screen of filth I couldn’t unsee. Julian’s face wasn’t visible, but his hands were. Too still. Too loose. Almost lifeless. My chest tightened. I knew those hands—the faint scar on his left knuckle from a brutal fight we’d had as kids.
Another man loomed behind Jessie while she used her hands and mouth on my brother’s genitals. The sight twisted my stomach. This wasn’t desire. This wasn’t choice.
Julian would never betray Sapphire. This was forced.
“Did you see that? The man in the background?”
“Sure did. This damage has to be Saira’s work,” Alistair said.
I glared at him. “That clip. Jessie sexually assaulted my brother. He couldn’t be conscious.”
“This has Saira all over it,” Alistair muttered, rubbing his forehead before shutting his eyes. “She’s using Jessie to do her dirty work. Payback for Julian rejecting her.”
“The man,” I pondered. “Is he the same guy who was with Holly when she drugged and kidnapped me?”
“No,” Alistair replied.
“How do you know?”
“The man who abducted you is dead.”
“Scotty?” I asked, raising one eyebrow. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’m responsible for his death. I’m also close to finding Holly,” he answered. His eyes burned with a fire that looked forged in hell itself.
“Are you pulling strings with Angelo, your mafia connection?” I asked, confusion knotting in my chest.
“I’ll explain later. Right now, we need to focus on your brother. I’ll call a friend in the police department to help Sapphire find Julian.”
The next few minutes blurred into a scramble of phone calls… first with the police, then with Saph.
“Hey, Saph. Head straight to Jessie’s apartment. Alistair’s arranged for a cop to meet you and Raphael outside Jessie’s apartment. Her name is Constance Fraser. She’s on the way there now.”
“How does she know where the apartment is?”
“It’s dead simple. Jessie Caruso’s address was listed in the online phone catalog.”
“Thanks so much, Vee.”
“Go now. I pray you’ll find Julian in one piece,” I said before hanging up.
I wept in Alistair’s arms that day. The only other time I’d broken down like that was when Saph and Julian dragged me out of Ace’s grip, saving me from his violence. Now I was here, clinging to a man who was far from perfect, carrying his own catalog of sins. Yet, he’d do whatever it took to protect my family. Alistair would help my brother.
“Vera, we’ll get through this. Do you hear me?” His voice wrapped around me as I sobbed, clinging to him.
“I need you.”
“You have me,” he said, kissing my forehead. “I’ve booked a flight out of Dubai first thing in the morning. We’re going back to Lester Harbor to fix this mess. I’m here.”
I nodded, blowing my nose into a tissue he’d given me. My eyes were blood-red, and I shook like a leaf hanging onto its stem in a storm. That stem was my inner strength, supported by Alistair’s love. We would get through this mess.
Alistair sat close beside me on the velvet sofa in the first-class airport lounge, his arm a wall of strength around my shoulders as I pressed my face into his shirt, letting the tears come. He smelled like expensive cologne and home. He didn’t say a word—just kept his grip steady, anchoring me, his thumb tracing gentle circles over my arm.
We’d already heard from Constable Fraser. She’d called earlier to confirm she was with Sapphire and Raphael, and that they had found Julian. It should have been a relief, but my nerves were shredded.
“I hope my brother is being cared for. I worry so much about him.” My voice broke as I clung to Alistair, trying to breathe through the ache.
He squeezed my hand, his comforting eyes steady on mine. “Julian was drugged, but he’s safe now. The doctors at Saint John’s looked after him, and the medical report’s already with the police.”
“Thank God.” I wiped the tears from my eyes. “What happened to Jessie and the man?”
Alistair pulled me closer, kissing my forehead. “The man left the apartment before Sapphire and the officers arrived. They’re tracking him now. Jessie was arrested and charged with sexual assault. She’s too scared to admit Saira’s behind it.”
Anger spiked in my chest. “I know it’s the she-devil. She sent Raphael to toy with my best friend while my brother was sedated and sexually assaulted.”
Alistair’s jaw tightened, his grip fierce as he anchored me. “Anyone who hurts you or your family answers to me. I’ll see to it.”
Alistair
Lester Harbor, a few days later
“How is Julian?” I asked, watching Vera remove her shoes in our apartment foyer. She returned from visiting Julian and Sapphire at their home.
“Physically, he’s recovering,” she said, glancing up at me. “Mentally and emotionally, it’s hard to tell because Jules keeps to himself. He said he’s getting professional help. Any word from the police about Saira?”
“I’ve talked to a few friends on the matter,” I answered. “Julian’s written statement confessing everything he knows about Saira’s activities should be sufficient for a judge to issue a warrant to search her home.”
“Julian doesn’t want any more trouble, Scotty.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m your family, aren’t I?”
“You are,” Vera affirmed, tilting her head as her hands touched my hips. “I like that.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Saira away from your brother. She may be Damian’s mother, but she’s a rabid dog.” I lowered my voice as my fingers slipped to her collar, easing open the top three buttons. The fabric gave way, teasing me with a glimpse of her cleavage.
“Scotty, the man who helped Jessie… You mentioned he wasn’t the same person who…”
“No,” I groaned, looking up at the ceiling. I hoped to avoid the conversation.
“Tell me,” Vera demanded. “I won’t judge you. I love you.”
“I hired someone to find the people who hurt you. He and his team tracked down the man who helped Holly abduct you.”
Vera’s dark eyes searched mine. “You said you were responsible for his death. Did you ask them to kill him?”
“No,” I answered. “I wanted them to push him for answers, but he shut his mouth.”
“So, they killed him?”
I nodded.
“What kind of people did you hire?” she ran her hands through her hair.
“People you don’t fuck with,” I muttered. “What I went through when I was young taught me that mercy has no place with the wicked.”
“Will you tell me what happened to you? About your scar?” she asked.
I bowed my head, let out a slow sigh, then met her eyes. She deserved the truth. “You’ll need a strong stomach for this. Are you ready?”
Vera nodded, clasping my hands in hers. “I need to know the truth about you.”
I tightened my grip, drew in a breath, and lifted my shoulders. “All right. I’ll tell you what made me the man I am today.”
THE EAGLE’S SCARS
Vera
“Here. Sit down and have a drink.” Alistair handed me a shot glass as I rested on our leather sofa.
“What’s this?” I examined the liquid in the glass.
“It’s called Jägermeister, a digestif to help ease digestion. You’ll need it.”
I sniffed the glass, downed the shot, and let the fire burn down my throat. Alistair followed suit. “Woo. It’s strong stuff,” I remarked, feeling the heat travel to my gut.
“Jägermeister is a German name for the term ‘master hunter’ or ‘master of the hunt.’ It’s an appropriate drink for us both.” Alistair smiled grimly. “My parents sent me to a church-based summer camp a few months after I turned twelve,” he began. “It was a private camp to help kids with challenges, including ADHD.”
I touched Alistair’s left shoulder while inhaling his addictively musky scent. He looked like an angel with his light-brown curls, emphasized by his widened green eyes. An innocent boy’s soul stared at me, something I had never seen in him. Look deeper, you’ll find him, my heart whispered.
He moved his shoulder and cleared his throat. “One of the camp staff, let’s call her Rachel, found me alone, trying to get some peace from all the noise. She asked if I could help her prepare for a musical matinee.”
“Oh, Scotty. You went with her?”
“I was a pre-teen with a crush on the woman. She had this smile, you know?”
“If it makes you uncomfortable to talk about—”
“Vera, I’m telling this story, and I’ll only tell it to you once. Never again.”
I bit my lip and remained silent.
Alistair sighed, then poured another drink into our shot glasses. “I walked with Rachel to the back of the building. It was empty as everyone was at the beach. I began getting a strange feeling in my gut when we went inside.”
“Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass with mine. My shoulders relaxed as the slow-burning liquid heated my body.
Placing his empty glass on the table, Alistair continued talking. “Rachel took me to a small, windowless room and fawned over my hair. As you’ve seen in my childhood photos, I was a fair-haired kid. She undressed me, saying everything was fine and how she loved my blond ringlets.”
“Oh, my God.” My palm covered my mouth, my stomach cinching tight. Alistair had been right all along. I needed the digestif.
“Oh, she was fast. I started to cry, but it was useless. I thought I was saved when another staff member walked in. Want to know what happened instead?”
I shook my head, stunned into silence.
“The man was in his sixties. We called him the ‘Colonel’ because he was an ex-military man, always pleasant and playful. But that playfulness hid something darker,” Alistair said, his voice breaking into a pause. “God, I wish it hadn’t been real. He pulled an army knife, the blade jagged and mean. Told me if I didn’t shut up, he’d cut me open.”
“What happened?” I asked, watching his fingers fidget restlessly.
“I made one bad move trying to break free. I went for a kick at the woman,” he said, eyes flicking downward over his left shoulder.
“The scar,” I whispered.
Alistair’s eyes reddened, tears brimming as his hands trembled. I leaned closer, my own tears falling, and together we wiped them away. His lashes lowered, heavy with the shame of innocence stolen.
“Can I kiss you?” I breathed, my lips inches from his.
“Please. Kiss me.”
Our lips met as my hands framed his face. “You were innocent in all of this,” I whispered against him. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes, I trust you, sweetheart.”
“Can I see your scar now?”
Alistair nodded, fingers moving slowly down his shirt buttons until the fabric fell open, exposing the scar that branded his past. “The Colonel lost his temper. You see it, don’t you? That was his work.”
“I am so sorry this happened to you.”
“I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy. It’s not the dead I fear. It’s the living.”
I let my fingers follow the line of his scar. “Monsters wear many faces.”
“They stripped me, Vera. Used me. Forced me to take more than I could bear…” Alistair’s voice broke, trembling as he lowered his head. His shoulders shook, the weight of it all crashing through him as he wept.
“Scotty, you don’t have to keep talking if it’s tearing you apart.”
“No, sweetheart. I’m giving you all of me—bruises, cuts, and scars. You’ve already given me all of you.”
I nodded, squeezing Alistair’s hand, a silent promise he would never be alone.
His palm settled on my thigh, grounding himself. “There are always monsters who try to silence the innocent,” he said quietly. “Rachel and the Colonel made me swear never to speak of the atrocities they committed against my body.”
“But you spoke up, right? Your parents—”
“I told them. I was examined and treated at Saint John’s, the same hospital where you spent time healing.”
“What happened to the people who hurt you?” I asked.
“My parents went to the police. Rachel and the Colonel were arrested.”
“Where are they now?”
“Rachel’s still rotting in prison. The Colonel walked free the year I graduated college. I kept tabs on him. I had to. Later, I found out he assaulted a nine-year-old girl. Nine, Vera. Can you believe it?”
My throat closed. “Did you ever see him again?”
Alistair’s gaze shifted sideways, and his silence was answer enough.
“Scotty?” I whispered, my finger tracing the scar down to the intricate eagle inked across his skin.
He stayed silent. I already understood. There were reasons men like Angelo existed, reasons Alistair carried that hunger for retribution. I understood his hatred of evil, why he lived by the creed, “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” We carried the same fire, surviving abuse by vile people who tried to break our bodies but could never touch our souls.
“I’m so sorry, Alistair,” I breathed, my voice trembling. “So damn sorry for what they did to you.”
His eyes flashed with red-hot anger. “Do you know what hurt most? I’ll never forget being only twelve and overhearing my father call me damaged goods. I was in so much pain, so much fear, I wanted to die. I was just a kid.”
“What do you think of me?” he whispered hoarsely. “That I’m some sick and perverted—”
“No,” I refuted. “You did nothing wrong. It was never your fault. Do you understand?”
“It’s the worst memory of my life,” he rasped. “I wish it had never happened.”
I reached up, brushing my tears away with the back of my hand. “Alistair, you’re more than a survivor. You stood up, told your parents the truth. That took courage. You’re not broken. You’re a warrior. You’re a saint.”
“I’m not a saint,” he scoffed. “I’m a monster.”
“You’re a saint. Think of the people you fight for. You’re fighting for Damian and your charity work for the homeless, the sick, women running from domestic violence, and children who survived abuse. You’re also helping my brother. You call yourself a monster? You’re wrong.”
Alistair laughed. “Is that how you see me? As a fucking saint?”
“Of all the people who can understand Julian, there’s only one. You.” I searched Alistair’s wounded soul with my eyes, willing him to see it. “You know his suffering.”
He nodded, offering a half-smile.
“I finally understand your eagle. It isn’t just a mark on your skin. It’s the symbol that carried you. Hope. Strength. Salvation.”
Alistair broke the silence, his voice low. “Can you pray for me?”
I almost laughed through my tears. I was the last person who should pray. But then my gaze caught on the words inked beneath the eagle: Psalm 103: 2–5.
I pressed my lips to his scar and whispered, “God, hear me. Crown this man with your love, so his strength soars like the eagle’s. Protect the man I love with all my heart and soul. Amen.”
“Thank you.” Alistair squeezed my hand, his throat working as tears slid down the hard lines of his cheekbones. “The abuse. The stigma of ADHD. The battles with my own urges. The two women who ended up pregnant because of my carelessness. For so long, I believed no woman could ever love the shattered soul under this shell. But I was wrong. You love me.”
I cupped his face. “As you love me.”
Alistair’s green eyes lit, shining like emeralds in the light. “Vera Kathryn Richland?”
“Yes?” I lifted his hands to my lips, pressing a kiss against his knuckles.
“I’m marrying you.”
“In due time,” I teased softly. “But first, there’s one thing I need from you.”
He leaned closer, eyes widening with curiosity. “And what’s that?”
“Always remember, I love you as you are. Don’t change for me.”
He nodded slowly. “My parents were right about you.”
“Oh?” I tilted my head, a smile tugging at my lips.
“They said I found a good woman.”
BROTHERS IN ARMS
Alistair
Two weeks later
Vera closed the door behind her as she stepped into my home office.
“Julian and Sapphire are here.”
“Send Julian in first,” I said, leaning back in the swivel chair. “I want a word with him alone.”
Her brows flicked up. “He and Saph are here to talk about—”
“Vera.” My tone cut clean. “This comes first. I’ll speak to both of them after.”
She lingered, clearly itching to argue, until I pointed at the door.
A low laugh slipped from her throat as she shook her head. “Fine. I’ll keep Saph busy. We’ll talk about what to do with Saira.”
“Good.” I nodded, snapping my laptop shut.
I drew in a long breath and tipped my head to the ceiling as the latch clicked behind her. Some truths could rot in silence. Others demanded daylight. This one couldn’t stay buried any longer.
My gaze locked on Julian as he stepped in. He’d long forgiven me for hitting on his little sister back in Manhattan, and over time, he’d become more of a brother than Oliver, who barely looked at me these days. On the surface, Julian looked steady enough. Deep chestnut hair, combed neat. Casual but spotless clothes.
But his stride betrayed him. A stuttered step at the threshold. Not his usual effortless swagger. His dark eyes caught mine, and what lived there made my chest tighten. They carried the kind of pain that lingers, the kind that doesn’t let you breathe.
“Julian, good to see you,” I said, pulling him in for a quick hug, a solid back pat.
“Likewise,” he murmured, giving me a squeeze in return. He wasn’t big on affection, but with him and me, it was different. There was trust. A connection.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“My struggle to sleep has affected my mornings, but I’m getting help,” he said. “A good therapist helps.”
I let a grin tug at my mouth. “Therapy saves more than people admit.”
The professor nodded, taking a seat on my sofa.
“Drink?” I asked, swinging open the minifridge by my desk.
“What’s on the menu?” Julian arched a brow, that same curious look I’d seen a hundred times on his sister.
“Coke, beer, water… or the best whiskey in town. Premium Scotch, naturally.” I shut the fridge and reached for the cabinet. “Want a glass?”
“Yeah. Pour it.”
“Ice?”
He shook his head. “Ruins the taste.”
“Good man.” I chuckled, setting the bottle and two tumblers on the desk.
I handed Julian his glass and dropped into the chair across from him. “I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?” My fingers wouldn’t stay still, tapping against my knee as his stare pinned me. I wasn’t a psychologist. Hell, I could barely crack this man open.
Then a tired smile tugged at his mouth.
“I’ve been thinking on the drive over,” he said. “Sexual assault isn’t just an act. It’s the symptom of a sickness. It starts up here.” He tapped his temple. “The mindset. The rot in someone’s head.”
“My ex-wife…” I started, guilt clawing at my throat.
Julian lifted a hand. “What’s done is done. Abuse is an injustice that stains everything. It’s one of the ugliest pieces in this jigsaw world.”
“We can’t change what happened to us.”
“Us?” Julian placed his glass on the table. His lips tightened like thin ropes, whitening at the edges.
“Us.” I stared back at him, then repeated that binding word, “Us.”
“You?”
“Yes. I was forced into a situation when I was twelve.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” Julian dragged his fingers through his hair, leaving it slightly mussed.
“I had to say it on my own terms,” I told him, holding his stare. “Before now, I wasn’t ready.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, man,” Julian muttered, shifting in his chair.
I leaned forward, placing both elbows on my knees, and clasped my hands. “I was twelve the first time I had sex. It wasn’t something I did willingly. I was forced into it at a youth camp organized by a church. Two adults were involved.”
Julian frowned. “You didn’t have sex. You were abused.”
“Your sister said the same thing .”
“She never mentioned it to me,” Julian mused. “But it’s not her place to speak for you on this particular matter.”
“I trust her with my secrets. You know, she’s good at keeping them,” I admitted.
Julian smirked. “She’s a master of secrets. The things she got away with when we were kids.” His low, rumbling laugh filled the space, and I couldn’t help but join in. For a moment, humor cracked through the heaviness .
“I’ve been in therapy on and off for years,” I confessed. “For what happened and other things. Healing isn’t linear. The past is like a chronic pain. You never know when it’ll flare, but it’s always there, somewhere in the back of your mind.”
Julian’s expression sobered. “I get it. Right now, I’m at the bottom of an abyss, looking up for a light. Saph’s pulling me through it. She and our son are the only anchors I have left.”
“You’re wrong about that,” I refuted. “You’ve got Vera, and you’ve got me. We’re family. Our bond’s thicker than blood.”
Julian gave a faint nod. “I know. I do.” His jaw tightened. “But this nightmare is fucked. Talking to the police wasn’t just remembering. It was reliving it. Like the whole ordeal reached out and dragged me back inside it.”
“I get you, man. For me, it was the betrayal of trust—the abuse of power—and realizing how hypocritical the world really is.” I paused, then asked, “You know about the bystander effect? Bystander apathy?”
Julian gave a slow nod. “Yeah. The bigger the crowd, the less likely anyone helps. People act when they’re the only witness.”
I leaned forward. “That’s what my life feels like. I’m surrounded by bystanders. People hovering because of who I am. But when it matters? I wouldn’t trust them to lift a finger. They’re sheep. Cattle. Whatever.”
Julian chuckled, thumb grazing his chin. “The whole world’s one giant fucking bystander effect.”
“I see it every day. What happened to me made me hyperaware of other people’s pain. It kills me to watch the helpless get ignored, like they’re invisible. The world’s too self-absorbed to give a shit. Eighty percent of the people I meet—”
“Are full of bullshit,” Julian cut in. “Not worth your breath.”
“Exactly. I stopped living like a victim after years of wrestling with it. The past isn’t something I can rewrite. What I can do is stand by other victims. Give them a sliver of hope. That’s how I move forward.”
Julian’s mouth twitched into something almost like a smile. “You’re a good man, Alistair. I saw it back in New York.”
“Really? Because I thought you were about to beat the crap out of me.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Yeah, I considered it. Vera was vulnerable then.”
I leaned back, studying him. “Julian, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“If your father were still alive, do you think he’d mind if I ask Vera to marry me?”
Julian scratched at his ear, a grin breaking across his face. “If Dad were here, he’d tell you to stop asking me and ask her.”
“Right.” I nodded, then quoted softly, “Proverbs seventeen. A brother is born for a time of adversity.”
Julian blinked. “Come again?”
I let a small smile curve my mouth. “We’re brothers in arms. Solidarity in peace and war. Willpower, loyalty, and unity are our weapons.”
His eyes narrowed. “This about Saira?”
“I plan to destroy her.”
I had no empathy for the wicked. I’d bleed kingdoms dry for the ones I loved.
It was time for war.
