I get the money, stuff it in a bag like requested, and head to the park. Setting it down, I sit on the little wall behind it and wait for someone to pick it up. After a few minutes, a man in a suit walks over and points to a van in an alleyway a little further away. I hesitate before walking to it, flexing my power as I do. When I reach it, the back doors open and another man practically drags out my white-blonde haired half-brother. He sets his teal eyes on me, confused, before breaking into a smile.
"Stay away," the man tells the both of us, handing him over. "Remember that."
I unbind Luce's wrists and ruffle his hair a bit, flashing a smile.
"C'mon," I say. "You never met Kyle."
"Kyle?" he asks, seeming a bit more collected than I remember.
"My son," I reply, leading him to the hotel.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
Lucian keeps quiet as we walk, looking around at everything. Maybe... maybe he isn't as bad as they told me. I lead him up to Ella's room and hesitate before knocking, studying him.
"Behave, please," I whisper. "My girlfriend is here too. She's watching him. I like her and Kyle is attached. Just no talk about Sparks and all that, alright?"
He nods and flashes a reassuring smile.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
I open the door and walk in, Lucian keeping behind me. I clear my throat but keep my voice down, flashing a smile at Kyle still sleeping, "Els, this is my brother, Luce. I'm... I'm going to go get him settle downstairs and then I'll be right back up."
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
I hesitate again, the feeling still there, before taking Lucian downstairs. He yawns and sits on the couch before lying down. I tell him he can sleep on the bed but he shakes his head, curling up and closing his eyes. Sighing, I drape a blanket over him before heading back up, silently sitting at Ella's side.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
A person is a fool to become a writer. His only compensation is absolute freedom. He has no master except his own soul, and that, I am sure, is why he does it. — Roald Dahl