by Lyla Oweds
“He also has a custom parental control program built into the browser. It acts differently than other similar programs. I haven’t been able to determine everything that’s been withheld, information-wise. But there’s definitely terms—phrases—that get flagged when you search for them. The system redirects you to a fake information source, limiting the information you can see. In my opinion, Finn probably controls and updates the software on his own computer.”
Julian’s fists were clenched against his thighs, and his voice was cold as he spoke. “He shouldn’t have the skillset needed for that kind of programming. I thought he wanted to be the chief of police, or something along those lines.” He glanced at Damen. “How can he know how to do this? He can’t be working alone. What’s his major now?”
Damen shrugged. “That’s what he wanted to do when he was five, yes. I don’t know. He did mention something about electricity when we were home on the holidays. He could know how to do these things now. I don’t pay any attention to him—he wants nothing to do with us. The only reason why he’s at this school is because he has no choice.”
Julian and Titus seemed surprised at Damen’s statement, and I wondered why. I had known about Finn’s childhood dream—so at least that hadn’t been a lie. It wasn’t as if it was important if it changed; people’s interests changed all the time…
“He’s majoring in electrical engineering,” I said.
Julian shot me a critical look, and Titus grew more displeased. “Then he shouldn’t have the knowledge on how to program this kind of technology. That is a completely different field. Does he know information technology or web development on the side?”
I could see the pieces falling into place.
“Not that I’m aware of, but who knows now?” I glanced away from Julian and returned my gaze to my fists. Another piece was being pulled out from under me—but it was the only thing that made sense. “My adoptive father would know how to create something like that. He’s a senior web security engineer for the Department of Information Technology.”
A consoling weight landed on my leg, and I glanced up to meet Julian’s eyes. Something fierce swam within their depths, but when he spoke his voice was as calm as ever. “I know your adoptive parents sent you away before, and that was wrong. No matter how misguided their reasons. So we haven’t gotten the best impression of them.” He paused briefly, then continued as if he couldn’t believe he was asking this. “But do you think your father would have created that kind of program for Finn?”
I swallowed hard, the question not a surprise at this point, but difficult nonetheless. Somehow, I knew that by admitting this—out loud and to myself—everything would change.
But I had to be honest anyway. “Yes.”
“Can’t you sleep?” Titus asked. Even though his voice was low, it rang loud through the silence of the room.
I rolled over on the couch and looked at him. He had been working at the table for a while, and was now turned toward the room—and me. The dim light of the monitors illuminated his face, and I could see that he was looking directly at me.
The others had gone to bed already. The coffee table had been pushed aside, creating a large space on the floor in between the couch and the two armchairs. Julian and Damen lay tucked among the mountain of blankets and pillows in that square-shaped space.
They must have been tired—I already knew Julian had been—because Julian and Damen fell asleep almost right away.
I ignored Titus’s question, and my eyes remained at the two men on the floor. “Do you think we should tell them? Should I wake them up?” I whispered, referencing the cuddling between the two men. I didn’t think either swung that way, considering their flirtatious behavior. But who knew…
“No.” Titus chuckled. “They’d hate it. Don’t ruin my fun. This doesn’t happen very often, beautiful.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but then he slowly got to his feet and walked toward the head of the couch. I turned onto my stomach and pushed my arms under my chest, watching him now. “What are you doing?”
Titus didn’t respond, but pulled out his phone instead. It took me a moment to figure out his intentions.
“Titus!” I scolded, still trying not to wake up the others. “The flash will—”
“Shh,” he shushed as he held out his phone in front of him. “It won’t wake them. Julian and Damen are deep sleepers. This is just too precious to pass up.”
No one was that deep of a sleeper, and I was about to tell Titus so, when it happened. My heart jerked as the light from the camera flashed a handful of times throughout the room.
But still—despite what I expected—Julian and Damen remained wrapped up in each other’s arms.
“Why did you take pictures?” I asked as Titus sat cross-legged on the floor by my head. He was so close now, and his nearness made it even more difficult for my mind to quiet. “Are they going to be angry?”
“Probably.” Titus was grinning at his phone. “But I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Miles, who had been sleeping on one of the chairs, groggily opened his eyes. “Why are you guys talking? We have classes in the morning.”
Titus frowned at Miles briefly, whose eyes were already closed. Then he turned his attention to me. “Can’t sleep?” he repeated his earlier question.
I still didn’t understand. “How did you know I was awake?”
Titus—instead of responding—inclined his head toward the entryway. Then, without another word, he got up and left the room—only pausing to glance back, indicating I should follow. Which I did, after a moment of indecision. It was either that or lie wide awake with a myriad of thoughts swirling around my head.
Titus was standing at the refrigerator, looking inside, when I finally caught up.
“Are you hungry?” He must be—possibly even starving. After all, who raided a refrigerator that was not their own unless they had a serious hunger situation to attend to? He had eaten so much Chinese food, though. I didn’t know how it was possible for him to have room for more food.
Titus closed the door, the gallon of milk in his hand, and gave me a strange look.
“I’m not hungry.” He put the milk on the kitchen island before turning back to the cabinets. “You can’t sleep.”
“But how did you…” Titus turned, mug in hand, and shot me a look that had my words trailing off at the end. Add the fact that Titus was shirtless, only wearing white pajama bottoms, was not the reason why I was suddenly hesitant to answer his question. I suppose it didn’t matter how he knew. “No,” I admitted. “I can’t sleep.”
He pointed toward one of the barstools before he poured some milk into the cup and put it in the microwave. I obediently sat as I watched him. “What are you doing?”
Titus didn’t answer right away. Thirty seconds later, he slid the warm milk toward me. “Drink. It’ll help you sleep.” The room was only dimly lit—he never even turned the lights on—but his cheeks held a dark tinge to them.
I glanced at the beverage before meeting his gaze. “I’m not a cat.”
Confusion crossed his expression before he grinned. “It’s not just for cats,” he said. “People drink warm milk to help them fall asleep at night.”
“Oh.” I looked back at the cup and picked it up. “I never knew that.”
Titus leaned against the counter toward me, his weight resting on his crossed forearms. “So, why aren’t you able to sleep?”
“Everything with Finn,” I admitted.
“Talk to me about what’s worrying you,” Titus said. “Are you thinking about it in general? Or are you worried he’ll do something against you in retaliation?” He frowned before I had a chance to respond, and continued—seemingly believing in the latter option. “He won’t hurt you again,” he grounded out, his voice terse. “If I have to personally make sure of it, I will.”
“Oh.” Well, that was kind of him. “I—”
“In fact, I might not even have to do it myself. That might b
e overkill anyway, considering,” Titus mumbled, his arms and shoulders tense.
“What should I do?” I interrupted, trying to get him on the right track.
It was the question that had been haunting my thoughts all evening. Now that I knew these things about my parents—my adoptive parents—I didn’t know if I could go back to pretending things were the way they had been. Because I had told Julian that, yes, I did believe my father could have written a program for Finn.
The relationship made sense—on some level. I always suspected their interactions were not normal. But I had been desperate to belong, so I reasoned it away. Before Finn, I had no one. I was too backward and afraid to make friends—even after we relocated. I always had fears, even then: What if no one liked me? Were they talking about me? What if they thought I was bad or strange?
But the close interactions between them—my parents and Finn…Ever since that day I was institutionalized, something was different. My mother, who wasn’t the most welcoming person in the world, seemed happier to have adopted me. My father, who had been so quiet, would talk to Finn—my new friend—in private man-to-man conversations, even despite his younger age.
Had they been controlling me, even back then? But why?
Titus wasn’t right at all; I drank the milk, but I didn’t feel the least bit tired. “What should I do now?” I asked again. “If Finn doesn’t say anything, and my mother sends me a message tomorrow. How should I act?”
Titus frowned, deep in thought. “Do you think he’ll say something to your parents?”
I nodded affirmatively. “Eventually. He doesn’t give up. If he has a goal, he is relentless. If he’s been lying to me all this time—if they’ve been doing it too…then I’m scared. What if…” My heart pounded in terror as memories flashed through my mind. “What if everyone tries to have me involuntarily committed, again?”
“We wouldn’t let that happen.” Titus’s unwavering stare was as steadfast as his words. For some reason, he believed in what he said without a doubt. “Damen, Miles, Julian, and I. We know the truth, and—even though he’s trying to deny it, for whatever reason—so does Finn. He also knows that you are with us now. There’s nowhere in the world that Finn or your parents could take you that the four of us wouldn’t be able to intervene.”
Nowhere in the world. Just what kind of people were these men?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dependable
“But my parents…” I tried to explain. No matter what kind of influence they had, it didn’t matter. “They still have power to make decisions over me. If mental professionals don’t think I’m fit to make personal decisions…”
“Then we’ll assign you a power of attorney.” Titus shrugged, as if creating complex legal documents was no big deal.
“I would if I could.” I sighed, barely noticing as Titus reclaimed my mug. “But I don’t think it’s possible.”
“Why not?” Titus asked mildly as he filled my mug with milk again.
“Because she doesn’t have any documentation.” Miles suddenly joined the conversation, startling me. He was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. I had no idea how long he had been listening. Titus didn’t seem as surprised and continued with his previous actions.
Immediately, I felt guilty. Titus had already been awake, but Miles had been trying to sleep. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud.”
“You weren’t loud at all.” Miles joined me at the counter with a yawn. “Titus woke me up. Now, even without your original documentation, or knowing your name, there are still ways. First and foremost is getting copies of the information. Thankfully, the school has records, so we know they exist.”
“But I already went to the registrar, and they said they can’t give me the documents,” I reminded him. “They won’t even let me look at them, so I can’t get my social security number or my birth certificate.”
“They’ll give out the copies.” Miles sounded so sure. “Don’t worry about that. Do you know who you’d like to assign as your power of attorney? Nothing is going to happen—only a fool would attempt something with the four of us aware. But if it makes you feel better, we should get our ducks in a row.”
“We?” I asked, again marveling at the cryptic statements regarding their importance. Who knew my new friends had such inflated egos? Then again, the mafia did have ties to many places. Perhaps they were planning on using Titus’s brawn and Maria’s connections.
How did a monk peacefully come to terms with belonging to the mafia anyway?
“Of course.” Titus returned with the mug refilled and pushed it in front of me. “Drink.”
So pushy. Even so, I gratefully sipped at it. I had never heard of this homeopathic remedy before, but Titus seemed to believe in it strongly.
“Are you trying to drown her in milk?” Miles raised his brow, eyeing the beverage. “She already had one.”
“She said she can’t sleep,” Titus pointed out. “It will help.”
Miles rolled his eyes. “It will give her a lactose overload.”
“She’s not an infant!” Titus pointed at him. “And not everyone in the world is lactose intolerant.”
“Are you lactose intolerant?” I picked up on Titus’s insinuation and Miles’s slightly jealous demeanor. “But you had creamer in your coffee.”
“We are getting off topic.” Miles shrugged, not answering my question. “Yes, Bianca…we.” He looked pointedly at me. It was almost painful to focus on his words, because he had a terrible case of bedhead and his wavy hair was in all manner of disarray. But his warm eyes held my own, taking my breath away. “We are on your side—we told you this earlier. One of us, or all of us, will act as your power of attorney if you want. Or you can use someone else. I just want you to be able to relax.”
But…It was one thing to be friends, but could I really give them legal rights to make decisions for me? Granted, I would still be in charge of myself. But what if I couldn’t…
Would my parents have my best interests in mind anymore? Until very recently, I’d have thought so, but I guess I was wrong. Sadly, it was a fact that I trusted these four men more than I trusted anyone else in my life—and we had just met.
That reality sounded so very pathetic in my head, and I almost cried all over again. Outside of them, I really was truly and utterly alone.
“Bianca?” Miles spoke close to my ear.
I blinked, realizing I had been staring into my half-full mug. My vision blurred, but they weren’t tears of helplessness. Not anymore.
“Don’t cry.” Miles stroked my hair once before looping his arm over my shoulder and pulling me toward him. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”
“That’s not it.” My voice was muffled against his chest. I couldn’t believe I was telling them this, but they were so easy to talk to. “I don’t know why I trust you guys, but I do. We’re practically strangers, but I feel as though I’ve known you forever. This is weird for me. I never trust anyone.”
There was no response to my statement. So much that my face began to warm—I must have sounded so stupid. But it was true, and strange. I’d kept parts of me hidden from Finn and my parents. My true thoughts and feelings being one of them. But with these boys, everything had a way of coming out.
Pushing my hands against Miles’s chest, I leaned back to look at him. But he watched Titus with a raised eyebrow instead. Somehow, it seemed as though they were having an entire conversation in the midst of the silence. “Does that sound strange?”
Titus broke their eye-contact first, returning his gaze toward me. “No.” His voice was pensive, but also wary. “It’s not strange at all.”
“We feel it too,” Miles interjected, his tone pensive too. “But what we’re thinking and your thoughts, are two different things. My theory is unlikely, to say the very least.”
Titus frowned at him, his eyes glittering as if he dared him to say more. “It’s more than unlikely. I
mpossible is the better term.”
“Nothing is impossible,” Miles retorted.
Titus was still frowning and waved his hand in the air, dismissing Miles’s statement. “We’re not getting into this now.”
This new turn piqued my curiosity, and I couldn’t help myself. My hands were still on Miles, and I glanced between the two of them again. “What are you talking about?”
“Something we shouldn’t be talking about.” The disapproval had left Titus’s expression, and when he looked at me, there was only sympathy in his gaze. His voice softened. “I’m sorry, princess. We’ll tell you one day. But it’s late, and it’s only been two days since we first met. We really can’t—”
I put my hand up, cutting off his apology. “It’s all right,” I said. I was curious to know what they were going on about, but Titus was right. We had only recently met, and it wasn’t like I was being completely upfront about my past either.
I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready to cross that bridge.
They would be horrified.
“What are we doing tomorrow?” I asked, changing the subject. “She hasn’t come out again tonight, and I don’t know if she will during the day...” My voice trailed off as Titus and Miles shot me surprised looks. “I’m talking about the ghost.” I supplied helpfully since they seemed to need a reminder.
“That’s a good point.” Miles perked up, releasing me as he turned toward Titus. “We should probably—”
“No.” Titus shoulders tightened, and his green eyes darkened as he watched Miles. “You’re going to class. The spirit will wait until tomorrow night. We all have things we need to do.”
Miles frowned, “But—”
“We could skip one day,” I suggested, studying the two of them. There seemed to be some tension about this topic. But to be honest, I kind of felt like crap. I wasn’t looking forward to walking all over campus tomorrow either.
“Miles needs to go to his classes.” Titus tore his eyes away from Miles. “And you should too. How is your ankle? Will you be able to be on it all day?”
