Darius runs around the counter. His green eyes dark. His chiseled face like stone. “Silas. Silas! Let him go. We’ll figure this out. What’s going on?”
Darius manages to pry his hand from me. Dad lashes out, pushing at Darius, trying to get to me. “A little help guys,” Darius says, losing the battle to hold him off.
Wyatt grabs one side of Dad, Lakshan another. “Breathe, Raja,” Lakshan says. “Come now. I know you don’t want to hurt Oliver.”
Dad nods, breathing with Lakshan. “Thank you, Lak. Wyatt. I’m okay now.”
Wyatt releases him but not just because Dad said so—Wyatt’s made his own assessment.
Julius has moved closer to me, but I shake my head. All Dad will see is a threat.
“Oliver, did I hurt you?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Let me see.”
I head to him and show him my wrist. There are a couple of small bruises forming from where his fingers were. “I’m so sorry, Eaglet.”
“I’m okay. What’s going on, Baba? You’re worrying me.”
“Maybe nothing. Maybe I’m seeing ghosts.” He picks up the box he dropped in the kerfuffle and holds it out for Darius. “Read this. Do you see what I see?”
As Darius’s concern morphs to horror-stricken, the wheels in my brain churn.
Dad was only annoyed when he learned of a package from Uncle Pax.
That’s definitely Randall script.
I swallow.
“Are there other Randall relatives?” I say, hoping what I’m thinking is just a wild idea.
“Th-That’s Dad’s hand, Silas. How the fuck? He’s supposed to be dead.”
“I don’t know. But he could be here.”
“If he is, it’s too late,” Darius says.
Too late for us to run.
“I’ll check the perimeter,” Wyatt offers. “I’m good at that. Y’all stay here.”
As he leaves, Darius rips at the paper, tearing the box open. Inside is a concert crop top. “I remember this one. Uncle Pax got it for you.”
“Th-Then maybe it is just Uncle Pax,” I say.
“Sorry, kid. It’s not. What a sick fuck. So, what—he faked his own death? This is elaborate even for him.”
Dad nods and when he sees an opening, he grabs my hand—gently this time—and pulls me to him. I’ve still got the kitten who isn’t happy about this arrangement. “Dad.Dad, let me set her on the floor, okay?”
He gives me enough room to do that, but his large hand hangs onto my black robes. Giulietta trounces off to find kitten trouble. I circle Dad with my arms. He’s falling apart. He needs me to hold him together.
Lakshan digs around in the bottom kitchen drawer where he keeps his special knives. “We are not teenagers. We don’t need to run from him. If he’s here, he won’t be for long.”
I believe Lak.
“I’ll help you,” Julius says. I smile. My boyfriend is so brave.
