Chapter 38: XXXIV

— RORI —

Zephaniah releases Teddy with an unceremonious shove, smirking at the furious look on his face. He then looks past him, to where Yakov must be standing, and tosses the gun for him to catch.

I shake my head at the carelessness with which my three brothers handle the weapon, safety off and all. At the same time, there is a reminiscent aspect about it.

"Vaffanculo!" Teddy curses at them.

"Don't whine, Teddy," Zephaniah mockingly scolds him. "You can get it back if you play nice."

"I should have killed you when i had the chance," Teddy seethes. "I should have killed you both."

"You still can, if you so wish," Zephaniah points out with a grin. "We will torment you from beyond the grave."

Teddy stills suddenly, though this does not seem to arouse suspicion in Zephaniah, thus arousing suspicion in me. At his lack of retaliation, Zephaniah simply cocks his head to the side, eyebrows quirked in a piqued manner as he quietly observes him.

I don't understand what is happening. But when i look down and notice that my grip has loosened on the door handle, a creaking sound immediately registers in my brain.

Slowly, Teddy's head turns to face the darkened corridor that i currently reside in. My heartbeat thumps to the point where i can hear it within the walls of my mind, mercilessly taunting me. It's good to know that i'm alive, at least. For a while the other day, i wasn't entirely sure.

"What was that?" Teddy asks.

Eyes widening, i immediately retreat from the door in an attempt to conceal myself, pondering what to do next. The momentary silence that follows his question does nothing to ease my mind, but when the response "Why don't you find out?" flies out of Zephaniah's mouth, i almost wish Teddy had pulled the trigger.

I close my eyes to collect my thoughts. It is already obvious that i am eavesdropping — Zephaniah and Yakov most likely assumed i was the entire time — but if i allow Teddy to find me standing behind the door, i will feel like even more of a fool.

Thank you, Zephaniah, for throwing me under the bus.

I don't have much time to dwell on my misfortune, as i soon hear the sound of Teddy's footsteps on the wooden floor, each one louder than the last. Though the trio will know for certain that i have, indeed, overheard their entire interaction, i decide to open the door in a final attempt to appear as though i had planned to leave the room, and not as though i accidentally exposed myself for eavesdropping — as i so often do.

For once in my life, it would have been nice to eavesdrop without being caught...Not that it was my intention to do so this time.

Teddy stops in his tracks when he sees me exit the room. Our brothers stand in the background, but i don't shift my focus from him.

His eyes widen a fraction when he acknowledges it is me, and, for a moment, he does not say anything, looking into my eyes as though i might disintegrate before him at any given moment.

His outfit, which consists of a black crewneck and navy blue sweatpants, strikes me as uncoordinated: as though it has been thrown together at the last second as opposed to meticulously planned. Teddy may not take fashion as seriously as the rest of us, but, even by his standards, an outfit like this is random. Especially given the current weather.

With no hood on his sweater, and no jacket to speak of, he is positively drenched; his hair slightly curly from the rain, making him appear a lot like his younger brothers. I hadn't even noticed he was in such a state until now, but i guess that's why Yakov was so quick to point out his state of being.

I am assuming that Martin recognised him, given the fact he stayed here for a while, but even i am surprised the former didn't alert my brothers of Teddy's arrival. I can't imagine this building sees many teenagers, never mind one who is brimming with rage and who's appearance does nothing to make him seem less delinquent-like.

"Hi, Teddy," i say after a moment, watching as he snaps himself out of his dazed state.

"You shouldn't be here," he insists, his tone of voice rough and condemning.

"I don't understand," i say, gulping as i shake my head in trepidation.

"You don't understand?" Teddy's voice sounds mocking to my ears, but i know better than to think he could deliver his words in a sincere way when expressing such aggravation. "You don't understand why this seems like some cruel joke to me?"

I blink at his words, perplexed.

"Do you think yourself a victim, Teddy?"

He shakes his head at me, less harsh this time though reproachful nonetheless.

"He shot you, what, four days ago?" he continues. "And now you stand here, in one piece, but harmed nonetheless. How can you look him in the eye after such an atrocity?" he asks me, seeming almost betrayed.

The same way i can look you in the eye after you resorted to strangling me, i think to myself, but, in reality, i respond with "It is my fault that i was shot."

He scoffs at my words, smiling slightly as he does so.

"Your naivety gets the better of you, Little Girl." the nickname is a taunt in itself, though concealed by the placidness of his tone. I haven't missed confrontations with Teddy. Not one bit. "Don't kid yourself for one moment that, because you rush to defend Zephaniah in such situations, he would do the same for you. Unless you, yourself, pulled the trigger, you are not to fault."

I shake my head at his words, not in disagreement of what he is saying but because he remains uninformed.

"I am not defending him this time, Teddy!" i insist, my tone almost pleading for him to hear me out. "Trust me, Zephaniah has a lot more to explain than him shooting me. It's just that, he wasn't aiming for me. I...deliberately intervened."

Teddy appears taken aback by this admission, proving that he came here with virtually no knowledge of what happened. Still, i highly doubt he was concerned about what he didn't know when he was made aware that Zephaniah shot me.

"Might i suggest that the four of us sit down and partake in a civil discussion, like your siblings and i were prior to you bursting in here?" Yakov suddenly interjects, grasping our attention.

While one can appreciate the formality with which Yakov conducts himself, it is not always apt. That's why, in this particular situation, i almost find his interruption comical. The more time i spend with my brother, the clearer it becomes that he uses this poised characteristic of his to his advantage: to manipulate the conversation. The underlying snark in his tone doesn't go unnoticed either.

In conclusion, the man is more menacing than i give him credit for.

I also realise that he is holding onto a mug of (what is most definitely) coffee in his hand, which he must have brewed while his older and younger brother were threatening each other with a loaded gun.

It was nice of him to make me one while he was at it...is what i would be thinking if he had cared to do so.

"It appears we must," Teddy answers him, glancing my way one more time before he heads towards them.

Teddy sits on the armchair Yakov had previously occupied, settling himself comfortably, and i return to my original spot in the centre of the couch, only, this time around, i am joined by both Zephaniah and Yakov. The elder of the two makes the wise decision to sit to the right of me, making him the furthest away from Teddy.

The sliced apples he prepared for me earlier on have since browned, but i feel myself grow uncomfortable once more and so i tentatively reach for one. The latter notices and turns his nose up.

"Don't bother with the fruit," he says. "I shall make you something later on."

"Dinner time has already passed," i point out.

"You need to eat," he responds, dismissively.

"Is that how you plan to make amends with her?" Teddy asks him, snidely. "By cooking her dinner?" he raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, and then faces me with a wry smile. "You better watch he doesn't poison it."

I don't react, already over their egocentric, mean-spirited, one-upmanship, but a seemingly pleasant smile forms on Zephaniah's face at his words. I say seemingly because it is, of course, artificial. Unusually, i find myself waiting for a retort that does not come.

"Tell me, Teddy," Zephaniah begins, his smile unwavering, "how is it that you came to know about the incident in which i shot Rori?"

"I overheard the staff discussing some supposed conflict within our family that might prevent you from visiting me, so i made a call to Uvaldo."

Zephaniah's expression darkens.

"He explained to me that you had shot Rori last Saturday, and that she was discharged from hospital this morning. He told me that you had just flown in from New York. I came straight here."

Naturally, Zephaniah does not appear pleased after learning Uvaldo shared such information to Teddy without his knowledge.

I don't necessarily fault our brother for doing so, but it's not as if he didn't know the repercussions that could occur. I still believe that Teddy needed to find out sooner rather than later, but there is a certain way to go about things. Telling him on a phone call, when he is in a rehabilitation facility over seventy miles away, is not the right way.

"How can this be?" Zephaniah asks, angered. "What would possess him to do something so stupid?"

"Uvaldo does not care for you right now, Zephaniah. That much is clear," Teddy reasons.

"I couldn't give a shit what Uvaldo thinks of me. He knows that Rori is with us right now, and he knows that you are of no rational mind to process news like this in a way that is not totally destructive to yourself and those around you."

Teddy scoffs in bemusement.

"Enough with this tangent, already," Teddy persists. "How about you explain what happened, and then we will see who is destructive."

"I would have happily explained myself five minutes ago," Zephaniah claims, "if you had knocked on the door like a sane person and been courteous with me, as opposed to senselessly waving a gun around like the little boy you still are."

As Zephaniah ridicules him once more, his voice mockingly lilting towards the end of his sentence, it doesn't have the desired reaction, as Teddy retorts with the same hostility "Yes, because you were of sound mind when you chose to fire yours, weren't you?"

"I've never once claimed to be of sound mind," Zephaniah says, with a slight laugh. "Only, unlike you, i don't leave a task unfulfilled."

"Are you referring to the task of wounding your sister?" Teddy continues.

"I'm referring to what i set out to do, which was to wound someone. Having fired the gun, i should have done so. I never miss. Only, Rori swooping to his defence sure put an end to that," he answers. "And i wouldn't be so quick to doubt your ability when it comes to harming your sister, Teddy," he adds, causing me to tense.

Teddy's jaw clenches at his words.

"Zephaniah," Yakov's tone is admonishing, "there is no need for that right now."

Zephaniah simply shrugs, pleased with himself and with Teddy's reaction.

"I'm just saying it like it is," he reasons.

"You are not helping yourself in the slightest," Yakov tells him. "Stop trying to deflect the conversation at once."

Zephaniah turns to face him, any trace of amusement in his eyes vanishing as he sends his brother a harsh, authoritative glare.

"You forget yourself, Yakov," Zephaniah reprimands him in a low tone of voice. "You are my younger brother; you ought to start behaving accordingly."

Instead of responding with the obedience Zephaniah expects from his siblings, Yakov scoffs with incredulity.

"The day i start acting like your younger brother is the day that you start acting as though you are my senior, Zephaniah, and not as though you are the baby of the family."

While i find my eyes widening at Yakov so carelessly talking back to him, Teddy simply snorts with laughter.

I suddenly regret my choice of sitting in the centre of the couch, feeling like a ping pong table in the world of their petty bickering.

Aside from this uncomfortableness i feel, the sound of Teddy's laughter surely distracts me. It's not often that he is so amused by the antics of his siblings. Or in general, i suppose.

Most of the time, his amusement is rather unwarranted.

"So..."

At the sound of Zephaniah's voice, i look up, surprised to see his eyes on Teddy once again, seemingly unfazed by what Yakov just said to him.

"Would you care to explain how you so easily left a rehabilitation centre and travelled over seventy miles to get here?"

Teddy simply smirks.

"Upon discovering doors exist, i also learnt of a thing known as a car."

I can barely refrain from rolling my eyes at his response. Now all we need is for Seamus to join us and the three of them can compete for the title of biggest smartass.

When the two men predictably don't react to his statement, he responds with "Rehab is not a prison, you know? So if your intention was to keep me stowed away forevermore, you have surely failed."

"And from whom did you acquire a gun?" Yakov asks.

"A friend of mine," Teddy responds, dubiously.

"Did they drive you here?" Zephaniah asks him.

"Most of the way," he answers.

"Most of the way?" Zephaniah repeats.

"That's what i said, no?" Teddy asks, meeting his gaze with a challenging glare.

Zephaniah and Yakov share a look of uncertainty, and Teddy scoffs at their unsaid assumptions.

"What does it matter?" he asks. "I started keeping a gun under my pillow when i was going to bed in Spider-Man pyjamas," he admits. "If it weren't for the metal detectors and constant searching of personal affects, i would've brought one with me to rehab...worse than a goddamn airport, that place."

Zephaniah studies him for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought as he does so, and then he laughs suddenly and amusedly, as if realising something.

"You really did plan on killing me tonight," he concludes with a sneering tone of voice, "didn't you, Teddy?"

Teddy's eyes flicker to mine, as if subconsciously, but they remain for only a moment before he redirects them to Zephaniah.

"And how would you have reacted, Zephaniah," Teddy queries, "if it were me who shot Rori, or any one of us, for that matter? I don't think you would be very amused."

Yakov gives Zephaniah an expectant look, and my eyes travel from Teddy to the latter with a curious expression on my face.

Sure enough, our brother's eyes begin to dim, any traces of amusement in them withering away as he processes Teddy's words.

"If you were in my shoes — in rehab — and all of us neglected to tell you that your sister had been shot, including the perpetrator himself, would you have heard us out? Would you have heard him out? I find it impossible to believe you would react well to such incomprehensible news."

Zephaniah still does not answer him, though, for the first time since our brother walked through the door, appears to be paying attention to what is being said.

None of us expected it to play out this way — that Teddy would show up on Yakov's doorstep, threatening he and Zephaniah before he had even set foot through the door — but i am perhaps the most bewildered by his reaction.

I do not know when or how my brothers planned on breaking the news to Teddy, seeing as there was no advancement of yesterday's conversation, but never in a million years did i expect him to be so...affected.

After all, the last interaction i shared with him — not including the brief one that took place when all of us visited him in rehab — ended in a fractured nose on my conscious and attempted strangulation on his.

I feel rather indifferent about it now...not that it took me all that long to adopt such an attitude, but i know that is not normal.

I know that it is not normal to be subjected to such trauma and then carry on as if it never happened, but, unfortunately, that is the story of my life and of my siblings'

"There's no telling what i would do," Zephaniah finally responds, his voice coarse. "Either way, i would shoulder the responsibility for the situation." he pauses, glancing pointedly at Yakov. "I am the eldest, after all."

— SUCKER PUNCH —

When Zephaniah has finished retelling the details of our family's three-decade-long fatal dispute and how it ultimately led to me getting shot last weekend, Teddy is no longer so full of himself.

His is, of course, the only reaction i have witnessed, but i can imagine the rest of our siblings were no different.

"I realise how improbable it sounds," Zephaniah states, as if in an attempt to sympathise, "but it is our unfortunate reality."

Teddy shakes his head in sheer disbelief.

"It is so fucked up that i couldn't possibly doubt it," he counters. "I only fail to understand how you could withhold such significant information from us for so long."

Zephaniah huffs with amusement; for once, not the mocking kind.

"I am not the first adult with the sensibility to withhold information from a child, and you best believe i will not be the last."

"Our father died as a result of this feud you speak of, Zephaniah," Teddy emphasises.

"And not one of us will shed a tear or say a prayer in his honour, but instead hope that he remains so," Zephaniah counters.

"That's not the point though, is it?" Teddy retorts. "We are down one family member at the hands of another, like some civil war, and you thought it would be wise to keep us in the dark forevermore," he points out. "You may argue that you did so with our best interests in mind, but you must have known it would backfire eventually."

"I regret nothing." Zephaniah shrugs.

"Nothing?" Teddy repeats, disbelieving. "This half-brother clearly knew of Rori's ignorance and wished to build up her trust by informing her of the facts you refused to," he emphasises. "Isn't that enough to make you rethink your decisions?"

Zephaniah casts me a momentary glance, his expression imperceptible to my eyes.

"Perhaps i believe it is better that Rori did not know of the facts prior to Damiano informing her," he disagrees.

I frown at his words.

There's no denying that he has lost trust in me after i went behind his back, but did he not trust me beforehand?

Who am i kidding? Zephaniah trusts no one.

But then why share such information with our older siblings and exclude the rest of us, even after we have reached a suitable age to be made aware?

Xavi, Wyatt, and Vinnie knew of what happened before we left Russia, and they just allowed us to be ignorant even after Zephaniah and Yakov moved on.

Is it because of me that this is the case?

"I was a fool for assuming that Damiano would not involve you," he admits, this time turning to face me. "But i cannot understand why you did not say something."

Yakov and Teddy face me too, with the same expectant expression on their faces, waiting for me to answer the same question everyone has been asking me lately.

Why didn't you say something, Rori? Like it's that easy.

I couldn't, i wish to tell them. I wanted to more than anything, but i couldn't. If i said something, what's to say Damiano wouldn't ensure i ended up banished like our mother, never to see you again? Can't you understand that i was fearful? Can't you understand that i am not like you and i do not think like you and act like you?

"It was never my intention to go behind your back," i tell him instead, straight-faced.

"I understand that, Rori," he says. "But if you were protecting Damiano in some way..."

"You know i wouldn't do that," i argue.

"You quite literally took a bullet for him," he points out.

"I might have been protecting him then," i admit, "but it was for your benefit. I didn't want you to get in any more trouble."

"I'm not saying that attempting to shoot him in your presence was the smartest decision i've ever made, but i wouldn't be in half the trouble i am now if i had been able to do so without your intervention," he emphasises.

"That's not true," i insist. "I promised myself i wouldn't let history repeat itself. I didn't mean to get shot; all i was thinking was that i couldn't live with myself if the two of you never got to resolve your issues with one another. I don't think, Zephaniah, i just do. Maybe that's where our similarities lie. You fire the gun; i take the bullet. Neither one of us is perfect."

"I could have killed you, Rori," he says. "Do you really think there would be any chance in Damiano and me reconciling if it turned out that you died from a bullet that was intended for him?"

Silence fills the air at his words as i fail to formulate a response.

He could have killed me, but he didn't. And in my twisted yet optimistic mind, that means there is still a chance the two of them will patch things up.

Maybe one day, peace will be restored in our family. Maybe one day, all of this will be nothing more than some story that we laugh about.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe.

How many times can one say the word before they grow tired of it?

"I don't think Damiano would protect Henryk," i muse. "I know you have every reason to believe so, but he even admitted to me that things would be better if his father wasn't around."

It is the truth, at least. Though i cannot give him the answer he needs to hear, i will give him this.

Zephaniah sighs, resigned.

"We shall see," he says, dubious. "It is Lorenzo who we wait for now. He is assessing the situation. I get the feeling he likes to take his time," he says the last part with a hint of disdain.

"I'm assuming we are going to meet this guy?" Teddy asks him.

Zephaniah nods, pensive.

"Looks like it," he says.

"You have met him once before though, right?" i ask him, surprising everyone. "That's what Damiano said," i add, my voice small when i realise i have spoke without thinking.

"He did, did he?" Zephaniah asks, cocking his head in a manner that is clearly displeased.

I nod, and a bitter smile makes its way onto his face.

"Hm...He truly left no stone unturned," he comments, using that overly cheerful tone that adults are prone to in moments like this.

"You didn't think to mention this earlier?" Teddy asks him, hostility making a reappearance in his tone. "When we were discussing everything?"

"It was some years ago," Zephaniah reasons. "And irrelevant to what you needed to know."

"Not quite," i say, surprised by my boldness.

All three of them face me once more, and Zephaniah shoots me a barely noticeable glare, though a sharp one nonetheless.

"He gave you financial compensation as an apology for his father having killed ours," i recall, my voice as nonchalant as ever, "and then he told you to pack our things and take us to the US," i continue. "Didn't he?"

"He didn't...word it quite like that," Zephaniah answers.

"When was this?" Teddy asks.

"February of 2012," i answer.

"So, what? This guy came to Russia?" Teddy presumes.

Zephaniah nods.

"I didn't know i was to meet him," Zephaniah admits. "He simply showed up at the garage i worked at."

Zephaniah has had so many different jobs throughout the fifteen years i have known him — in the past, often multiple at a time — that it is impossible for me to remember them all.

Mechanic rings a bell. He messed around with cars back then, like many boys in their early twenties do — motorcycles too. He didn't even buy his first car, as far as i am aware. He simply convinced the owner it was worth nothing and then fixed it up so it looked brand new.

It's hard for me to imagine Zephaniah working a blue collar job nowadays, with his expensive suits and opulent lifestyle, but it would have been just as difficult to picture him where he is now back then.

The one thing that remains, no matter the circumstance, is that he is one of the hardest workers i know.

"And then what?" i ask, figuring i should inquire about my eldest half-brother before i meet him, "What was he like?"

"I was replacing a tire when he approached me," Zephaniah says. "I didn't notice him at first — not until he was standing right next to me — but, when i did look up, i knew he wasn't there for business. Not of that kind, anyway," he explains. "He was dressed in a suit, and there was another man, who was clearly his bodyguard, standing a few feet behind him, as well as an SUV and a town car parked on the side of the road."

"A bodyguard?" i repeat with incredulity. "You must be kidding."

The corner of his lips twitches at my reaction.

"Mother would have also had at least one following her every move when she was still considered an Antonelli," he tells me. "It is nothing unusual to them."

My eyebrows furrow at the thought of it.

My mother never discussed her life before us in such detail. I knew she was estranged from her family, but that was about it.

I was just as inquisitive as a child as i am now, if not more so, but it's not like i had the opportunity to ask her those personal questions.

It was the same with my father. Though i knew more about him than i did my mother, in hindsight, it was still very little.

I knew that he was born in Bryansk — a city that sits southwest of Moscow —  and lived there for a good part of his life, but i also know that his father caused their family to move a lot, much like he had us do.

While all ten of us were raised in and around the region of Penza, we moved around a lot, up until i was about three years old. My place of birth is stated as Moscow on my personal documents, and the same applies for my siblings, but i'm not sure how much truth there is to that, considering i have been told by several of the guys that not all of us were born in the same place.

It is especially tricky, seeing as not one of us was born in a hospital, which is considered completely bizarre by Russian standards. My mother was not even aware how many children she was giving birth to when it came to Seamus, Quentin, and i, and would have only been able to tell it was more than one during the latter months of her pregnancy.

It is not uncommon for triplets to be born prematurely, and, at thirty four weeks, we certainly were, so hospital was nonnegotiable following the birthing process. Really, it should have been the case from the beginning, but it wasn't. Fortunately, no problems occurred.

I am well aware of just how puzzling it is that i know so much about my birth, and yet am not certain of the region in which i was born. Even the documents Wyatt discovered at Aunt Tosca's cafe, which i now know are associated with Damiano, state that my exact place of birth is a mystery.

It makes me wonder if the same applies to he and his brothers.

"Did you recognise him?" i hear Teddy ask, pulling me away from my thoughts.

"I wouldn't say recognise," Zephaniah says. "I had known he existed all of my life, but, like i explained to Rori, my birth changed everything. The only photos i'd ever seen of him showed him as a baby or a small child. Only once he introduced himself could i see our relation with my own eyes. He looked like a younger version of his father, only with a lighter shade of hair. They were around the same height, with the same nose, and the same build, and the same eye colour too," he lists. "With saying that, Henryk's appearance wasn't much different from our father's. Really, he was just slightly shorter than Aleksander."

The fact that Zephaniah was able to acknowledge the resemblance Lorenzo shared with his father implies that he has been face-to-face with the latter in the past. Unless he were to have also seen his face in old photographs...but i can't imagine my parents would have kept any, and i'm sure the reason why is apparent.

It must have been unnerving to meet Lorenzo under such circumstances.

Then again, maybe not.

Maybe he was not fazed in the slightest.

I certainly can't recall if there were any changes in his behaviour around that time.

"Anyway," Zephaniah continues, "the interaction was rather brief...He had ensured that i would be able to acquire my Amex card once i arrived in The States, and, from there, he would send a wire-transfer. I was insulted by his offering of money, but i had little choice. Even with his involvement with the US banks, i was still a Russian with dirty money. However, the sole reason we migrated to the US was based on the fact we already had a relative staying here who had obtained citizenship."

This story is yet another that is unlike the one we were originally told. The one the five of us teens were originally told, i should say, since, clearly, the twenty-somethings have been sworn to secrecy when it comes to a variety of matters — acting as one this whole time — feeling the need to group themselves together despite consisting of two different generations.

I wonder how Uvaldo feels about all of this.

As is common in our family, he and Vinnie's age gap, or lack thereof, has led to them being close confidants in recent years. When Zephaniah informed us about Henryk and his involvement in the incident in which our brothers were shot, we learned that Vinnie was, in fact, aware of our uncle's existence prior to the meeting.

I remember hearing he and Uvaldo argue that same night from the balcony above mine, while i was smoking yet another of the cigarettes Seamus had collected.

I feel as though Uvaldo makes somewhat of an effort not to loose his cool in front of an audience. Yes, he is more than amiable and so it is a rare occurrence, but, when he does lash out, he does so with clear signs of hurt and betrayal. In that respect, he is less of an antagonist, in the way that Zephaniah and Teddy have demonstrated they are, and more similar to me.

Still, he can tend to act thoughtlessly, as he proved earlier on when he explained the recent happenings to Teddy, knowing fully well that he would be inclined to pull a rash stunt such as the one he did earlier, when he showed up on our brother's doorstep unannounced and threatened Zephaniah with the same weapon he injured me with.

"Eden?" i guess.

"Yes," Zephaniah confirms. "Though he had yet to complete his studies, he was married by this point."

"He really seems to have achieved the American dream," i remark with a wry smile.

He hums in agreement.

"You never mentioned how Lorenzo came to know of our father's death," Teddy points out, in a somewhat accusatory tone.

"Mother had written to Lorenzo in a plea for help," Yakov takes over. "Father had not returned from his trip to Moscow on the day that he said he would, and you must know that it was rare for him not to contact one of us if such alterations took place."

I wouldn't know, but i suppose that's why he emphasised that we must.

"This is why i did not expect to meet him," Zephaniah adds, almost eager to regain control of the conversation. "Mother had written to him without informing me. She had explained that she had access to evidence of Henryk's crime and that Lorenzo should see for himself..."

"In that case, did he meet with her before he found you?" i ask.

"Sì."

At this, i hear Teddy snort in what is either amusement or disbelief, or perhaps both, before he reminds us "And then sent her away."

"That's what i don't understand," i say, in reference to Teddy's words. "What was his intention?"

"Well, it was either that or leave her in Russia," Teddy guesses, still with that amused smile of his.

"And this pleases you?" i ask him.

"It is justifiable, after all," he says with a shrug.

"We don't even know where she is," i point out. "What's to say he didn't discard of her like his father did ours?"

"Woah." he laughs once more.

"It is safer this way," Zephaniah intervenes. "He was doing her a favour, if anything. She will occupy a new identity, live somewhere of her preference, live as an independent woman for the first time in her life; aside from the fact Lorenzo undoubtedly will have reinstated her security detail," he explains. "The word banished is an exaggeration. He has brought her no harm."

"How can you be sure?" i ask him, doubt clear in my eyes.

"I made sure of it," he responds, and i am thrown off by his earnestness.

He averts his gaze upon realising his admission, touching his signet ring, as if subconsciously.

Having witnessed the turbulent relationship between he and our mother over the course of eight years, i wouldn't think he would be so courteous as to concern himself with her welfare.

"Either way, Rori, you should not be so silly as to plague your thoughts when it comes to Marianna," he says after a moment, his voice taking on a more austere tone. "She was a callous tyrant, just like our father. She is not worthy of your consideration when she only thought of herself for so long."

As usual, Zephaniah's somewhat validating my concerns turns into him dismissing them. Though Xavi had reacted slightly better the other day, it does remind me of how he similarly expressed i simply should quell any and all thoughts of my mother's misfortune — as if it were that simple.

It seems to me, especially now that Zephaniah is involved in our lives once more, that Xavi truly did derive a few of his parenting techniques from his older brother. The two of them are not so different from the stereotypical Russian patriarch; stoic and grim.

"I still do not understand how this murder was discovered," Teddy suddenly comments, successfully redirecting the conversation. "It was that Mother provided Lorenzo with evidence, but how did she acquire said evidence in the first place?" he asks.

Zephaniah sighs. As usual, he is reluctant to provide us with more information than he deems necessary.

"His confession was in writing," he answers, vague as ever.

"But that, in itself, cannot possibly be enough evidence," Teddy pursues.

Predictably, Zephaniah rolls his eyes.

"You don't say?" his voice is mocking. "It wasn't that Lorenzo had any doubt of his father's crime, it is simply that it would not be enough to convict him of it. Lorenzo may have the police in his back pocket, but, it's like i explained to Rori, there are also many people out there willing to help our uncle if it ensures the downfall of our family. And so, he could not be convicted if he could not be located. The purpose of me reaching out to Damiano was to put an end to their father's threats by getting him to act on them in such a way that we knew what was coming and could then do something about it, but, of course, that plan fell through, no thanks to the situation with Veronica."

Teddy shakes his head in disbelief before asking "And what about the guns that were used in both of the shootings?"

Zephaniah nods in response to his implication.

"We have got him now," Zephaniah agrees, before adding,

with a sigh, "but it's like i said: we must wait."

Following his words, my stomach rumbles at an embarrassingly loud volume. When all three of my brothers' heads turn to stare at me, it feels like i'm reliving the moment my stomach rumbled in a silent math class all over again.

Usually, they would make fun of me for such a thing, but, right now, none of them seem so amused with me or with one another.

Zephaniah checks the time on his watch, running his hands through his hair in a stressed manner.

"You are supposed to be home in half an hour."

"It's fine."

"It's not," Zephaniah disagrees. "I said i would cook for you."

"I can make something at home."

"No. Xavi will not let me hear the end of it."

"It takes twenty minutes to reach home," i point out.

"You can't not eat," he tells me, chidingly.

"Then i will have scrambled eggs on toast," i decide. "That takes less than ten minutes."

He shakes his head.

"It was supposed to be fish today," he reminds me, referring to the dreadful meal plan.

"Since when have you followed a doctor's orders," i point out.

"It's like watching a bad sitcom," Teddy remarks, as he leans back and slouches in his chair.

Zephaniah raises his eyes to the ceiling, and then releases yet another exasperated sigh.

"Scrambled eggs on toast is better than nothing," he agrees. "But if Xavi asks, the meal was of Michelin star standard."

"Naturally," i agree, sending a knowing look to Yakov, who reciprocates with a slight smile.

Zephaniah stands up without uttering another word, and, unsure of what to do, i face Yakov once more. He nods his head in gesture for me to follow our brother, and i do so after casting a glance at Teddy, who does not look my way.

Yakov and Teddy's voices are quiet by the time we reach the kitchen, though they soon move to another room when Xavi phones, leaving me and Zephaniah amidst a deafening silence.

There is nothing more out of character for the two of us than not having something to say, but i suppose we haven't spent time together without our siblings in a good while, and, of course, it is all the more awkward given that this is our first chance to speak to one another without their presence since he shot me.

I don't think i will ever be able to fully comprehend that i have experienced the feeling of being shot, never mind at the hands of a family member. And definitely not at the hands of Zephaniah.

Wounding a sibling is unavoidable.

The ten of us have seen our fair share of wounds and broken bones throughout the years — some from playing too rough as kids, though it's safe to say that most appeared as a result of violence — but i never could have anticipated that one of my brothers would harm me in such a severe way, even if unintended.

There is not one thing i can focus on.

There's the fact he shot me, but intended to shoot our brother, and the fact it's technically my fault he shot me and so i should not fault him for doing so, though he was the one who involved a gun in the first place. There's the fact that, because of this incident, my resentment for him is threatening to make a reappearance. Then there's the fact that being shot caused me an indescribable pain, but it was just that: indescribable and, in the grand scheme of things, not a big deal.

To be shot is just as much of a baptism within our family as firing a gun is. In theory, now that i have experienced both, i am well on my way to becoming just like those who came before me — well on my way to living up to the Łabanowski name and making my family proud.

But that's just the thing. Nothing about this is black and white. Though the pain of being shot was followed by confusion when i woke and realised that my surroundings were not, in fact, some afterlife, but the hospital, all that i had endured and survived  earlier on that day was not what shook me.

It was the never ending sequence of nightmares every time i closed my eyes, it was waking up to doctors and nurses trying and failing to pacify me, only to sedate me when i could not calm down, and it was not having any of my brothers by my side, but, at the same time, not allowing them to be near me.

It was confusion and fear, and, naturally, i felt physical pain, but, most of all, it was resentment towards Zephaniah and Damiano for having caused such a rupture in our family, and, honestly, a little resentment towards Veronica for having caused such a rift between two brothers, regardless of her intentions.

On the other hand, my resentment cannot hold up when it comes to her.

If it weren't for the brutal incident in which Veronica lost her life, i would have found a way to meet with her on my own terms. Zephaniah may label her as this, that, and the next thing, but only she is able to provide me with her side of the story, and yet she cannot because she is no longer alive.

At this thought, a question pops into my mind.

"What about Veronica's family?" i ask, breaking the silence. "They must have known about her pregnancy...and her death?"

Zephaniah remains focused as he cracks the last egg, only hesitating slightly when he hears my question, before he empties the yolk into the jug he is using.

"According to Veronica, she hadn't been in contact with her mother for a while, and, as far as i'm aware, her mother was her only immediate family. She told me she wouldn't bother to mention the pregnancy to her mother, and so i guess she didn't know at the time, but she surely would have been informed after her daughter's death..." he trails off, deep in thought as he begins to whisk the eggs with a fork. "I don't know. No one reached out and so i suppose Veronica never informed her mother that she was involved with our family."

"But won't her mother have known something was up, given the fact she was killed by someone who supposedly worked for Henryk?"

Zephaniah shrugs.

"Even if she was made aware, she couldn't do anything about it unless she had some greater influence than Henryk."

"And no one has greater influence than Henryk?" i query without thought.

Zephaniah smiles slightly at this, emptying the egg yolk into the pan.

"His own son possesses the kind of influence he could only dream of having," he reminds me.

"Then i don't get it," i say. "I understand that he is a veteran and works with people who aim to take down our family from the inside, but, if that were the case, he wouldn't have gotten away with what he has for this long."

Zephaniah faces me, the wooden spoon still in his grasp as he responds with "You forget that Lorenzo lives a separate life from us. He has lived in Italy his entire life, while the rest of his siblings immigrated to the USA from Russia. His father was constantly on the move up until now, and he does not even know the man. He is some elite who involves himself in the media, and politics, and religion, and philanthropy, and continues to reap the benefits the Antonellis gained from lesser families like our father's, who carried out the dirty work on their behalf. He is not used to thinking like you and i are, Rori, and he will continue to not think as we do, unless he chooses to put himself in our shoes."

"So you think Lorenzo is simply ignorant to what is going on?" i ask him.

"When it comes to understanding our world and how we operate, very much so," he answers, frankly. "He is the eldest of thirteen children, yet has never had the responsibility of looking after his siblings forced upon him, and he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, not once experiencing the penury and general hardships that we endured for so many years.

My eyebrows raise slightly at the certitude of his response, but Zephaniah quickly refocuses on the task at hand, as he produces two slices of bread and pops them in the toaster before resuming stirring the eggs.

"This is not enough food," he comments, frowning as he stares at the contents of the pan. "Yakov was right to be cross with me. I should have started preparing us a meal as soon as he told me he was on his way to pick you up, but i only arrived home a few minutes before you did."

"It's okay," i assure him. "My appetite is not so big at meal times. I will survive another day even still."

"That's not the point," he grumbles. "It's not about how hungry you are. It's about how much you are required to eat. And if you aren't hungry now then you will only be hungry later, and then what?"

"Then there will be plenty of food in the kitchen for me to eat as i please," i say. "You are thinking too much."

He doesn't respond immediately. In fact, he is silent until the toaster pops, and i simply observe as he removes the slices and methodically lathers each slice with butter.

"I have much to think about lately," he eventually says, his gruff voice toned-down a notch.

Once he has finished cutting the toast into triangular slices, and arranged the scrambled egg so that it is in a tiny bowl alongside the former, he shoves the plate in my direction, a prominent glower on his face.

"Sit down and eat," he orders in a peremptory manner.

"Feel free to ask nicely," i retort, though do as he says nonetheless.

Zephaniah stares at me as i take a small bite of the toast, or more so glares. When he continues to do so, i pretend to grimace at the taste of the toast, because, well, i guess i am just as immature and unserious as him sometimes.

He rolls his eyes, though he does not crack a smile of any kind.

"I can't remember if i have tried something you cooked before," i say, in another attempt to dissolve the tense atmosphere. "Something that requires a little more skill than scrambled egg, that is," i add.

"I wouldn't say i cooked all that often when you were younger," he admits. "Still, i like to think i'm pretty good at it."

"You like to think you're pretty good at everything," i point out, sending him an amused look.

He shrugs in response.

"I can also admit my flaws," he claims.

"Hm."

I take another bite of the toast, along with the scrambled egg, nodding my head in appreciation.

"Much better than fish," i declare, causing the corner of his lips to turn upwards ever so slightly.

"That you never did like," he agrees. "I used to have to force feed it to you when you were a toddler."

I playfully roll my eyes, and resume eating as we fall into silence once more.

As i consider all that Zephaniah had to say about Lorenzo, i am reminded of Yakov's harsh words.

"The day i start acting like your younger brother is the day that you start acting as though you are my senior, Zephaniah, and not as though you are the baby of the family."

I glance at Zephaniah once more and find him looking in the direction of the corridor i emerged from earlier on. The only sound that can be heard is the ticking of a clock from somewhere within the room, and the raised voices of our brothers every now and then.

"For the record, i don't think you have failed us in any way," i say, causing his attention to return to me. "I don't think you have failed me."

Zephaniah is predictably straight-faced and inscrutable as he takes in what i say. As though he understands where i am coming from, he responds, vaguely, yet meaningfully, with "The honesty of my siblings is something that i value greatly."

"Not your siblings, themselves?" i quip.

"Not so much," he responds, with a slight smirk.

"Well, clearly..." i agree. "You did shoot me."

"And i payed dearly," he jokes, pointing to the faded bruise that surrounds his left eye.

He clears his throat a moment later, and i continue nibbling my toast with attentive eyes.

"I am sorry for what happened, Rori," he tells me, his tone one of conviction. "More than you know."

"I know," i respond through a mouthful of food. "I, too, value and appreciate your honesty."

"Okay," he says, in a way that shows he can detect me mocking him. "Feel free to finish your food before you speak."

I flash him a sheepish grin and do so, hesitating before i ask my next question.

"You are the reason Yakov has a scar on his face, aren't you?"

His eyes narrow, though he appears perplexed more than anything.

"You didn't know this?" he asks me.

I shrug my shoulders.

"You have had three months to ask one of us," he points out.

"I didn't think i wanted to know the answer," i tell him. "I think i determined it for myself the moment i saw him again — determined that it was you who hurt him — and i didn't care to know your reasoning."

At his piqued expression, i give him a pointed look.

"I hated you, Zephaniah," i reason in earnest. "More than anyone or anything. For so long. But i didn't want to be reminded of why."

Though he frowns, he nods his head in complete understanding of my words.

I wish nothing more than to bury the past, but it's practically impossible not to refer to it when something threatens to pull us apart.

Besides, if we simply chose to ignore the past five years, we would never learn from them; never grow. I like to think that the ten of us have found somewhat of a solidarity in that respect.

"Might you be able to see the amusement in it now?" he asks.

"Such actions will not faze me going forward," i answer him, simply. "You are just you, whether you are being a vindictive asshole or begging us to watch Harry Potter with you. I have known so for the longest time."

He scoffs at my words.

"I did not beg," he denies.

"You were pretty adamant," i argue, with a smirk.

He counters my comment with a nonchalant roll of his eyes, his expression then replaced by one of thought.

"I might have thrown a knife at Yakov," he admits, a slight grimace on his face as he does so. "By some miracle, it did not catch his eye, but scarred the skin around it."

"That's not so bad then," i say, jokingly. "It's whether or not you had a genuine reason."

"What? You think i would harm him for the good of my health. Brothers quarrel. You know what it's like."

"Unfortunately so," i agree, arching an eyebrow as i ask, "He didn't sleep with your girlfriend, did he?"

He blinks, thrown off by my words.

"Point taken," he states, though can't help but smirk as he adds "If anything, that scar has worked out in his favour."

I shake my head at his characteristic response.

"I am also sorry for my part in this," i tell him after a few moments pass. "I shouldn't have gone behind your back like that."

He nods, offering me a taut smile in response.

"But i know that there are certain pieces of information you are still keeping from me," i add, calculatedly.

To my surprise, Zephaniah doesn't immediately react to my words, his mannerly demeanour unchanging.

"Likewise," he responds, throwing me off only slightly.

Like him, i make a point not to react.

"If you do want to open up at any point, no matter the nature of the subject, you know you can trust me," he adds.

I smile at his attempt to coax me.

"Quite the contrary," i say. "Isn't it that you taught me to trust no one, blood included?"

"Indeed," he says, as if he expected my response. "And for good reason. There is no such thing as being overly cautious. You can never be certain that someone won't use something against you; stab you in the back." he smiles slightly as he adds "And being stabbed in the back is far worse than a harmless nick of the skin, no?"

I gulp at his words, a subtle dissuasion if there ever was one, in the form of a nod to my apology.

My role in Damiano's scheme was made clear, in that i was to be kidnapped, or at least made out to be,  as to ensure Zephaniah's compliance in whatever Damiano asked of him.

But what does he know about my reason for blindly agreeing to such terms?

"It was never my intention to go behind your back."

"I understand that, Rori. But if you were protecting Damiano in some way..."

I might not be protecting Damiano, but he is protecting me — at least for the time being — and i fear that the fact i am allowing him to do so may be just as detrimental...

As i consider the words we exchanged earlier on, i am torn from my daze by Zephaniah clearing his throat.

I am met with an unassuming smile as i look up, and a fondness in his eyes that i do not trust. There is a flicker of awareness there, as though he can sense he has disconcerted me and is revelling in it.

He simply smiles brighter at my timorousness, ruffling my hair before he gestures to the plate with his pointer finger.

"Eat your food before it goes cold."

— SUCKER PUNCH —

Zephaniah leaves to check on our brothers after cleaning up, and the three of them return a few minutes later, in time for me finishing my substitute dinner.

"I trust that, if you are still hungry, you will eat something more substantial when you get home," is the first thing to come out of Yakov's mouth.

I sigh, and refrain from rolling my eyes for the umpteenth time.

"I'll have Seamus and Quentin prepare me a damn feast," i sarcastically grumble, but relent when he gives me a meaningful look, "Yes, Yakov. Fret not."

He still seems sceptical of my unserious response, though moves on nonetheless.

"Xavi is aware of the circumstances which have delayed our evening," he informs me, sending a similar glance to both Zephaniah and Teddy this time, "and understands why you will be home later than we initially agreed. However, you must rest adequately. Understand?"

"Rest adequately," i repeat, nodding in acknowledgement. "Got it."

Yakov's expression tells me he is far from impressed by my inability to take his advice seriously.

"You must take care of yourself, Sorellina, with the aid of your brothers. One's health is not something to make light of," he insists.

At this, my gaze automatically shifts to Teddy.

I am acutely aware that the two of us are yet to sit down and have a productive discussion about both his own issues and our issues with one another.

I have found Teddy passed out in the bushes in our garden, and i have

witnessed him with bloodshot eyes, but, though he was partying heavily at one point, it never progressed to something so out of control that he could have been deemed an addict.

It is ironic that, up until a few weeks before Teddy was admitted to rehab, Zephaniah was the problem child among us.

I never thought he would be startled into taking care of himself, even after a nurse emphasised to us that his health condition could become critical if he didn't make a change.

For a while, i was concerned that he wouldn't pull it together. Especially after he came home drunk. But, when i come to think of it, that is the last time i have witnessed my eldest brother in such a state.

He is usually not without a glass of scotch, or a cigar, but, lately, that has been the case. It's not that i think he is sobering himself, but i have noted a significant change these past few weeks.

It is no secret that my family have indulged in alcohol, amongst other substances, as a means to cope. It is in our blood, i suppose.

Zephaniah certainly paved the way for his younger brothers in that respect, making it all the more easy for me to draw similarities between he and Teddy.

I don't know what it is with Zephaniah and the youngest five boys, and them getting on each other's nerves so very easily.

It is obvious that, subconsciously or otherwise, the eldest four have formed somewhat of a clique over the years, as have the youngest four, with Vinnie classically alternating between the two.

I am not affected by such bias, and so can see for myself to form an opinion.

Zephaniah is constantly taunting the younger boys. Of course, it is a back and forth, but, in this situation, his tendency to act immature gets the better of him when he should be taking them more seriously.

I suppose that's where i went wrong in asking Zephaniah to have a word with Teddy when i had noticed his behaviour was worse than usual. As i have witnessed this evening, it is near impossible for the two of them to treat one another with civility.

Still, i had thought it might be good for Teddy to have the support of his eldest brother. He does give good advice, despite it being a rare occurrence for him to be anything other than juvenile in the presence of his siblings.

"What's happening with you?" i ask Teddy.

"I'm going to spend the night here, i suppose," he answers. "And then meet Xavi tomorrow morning for some brunch, i don't know."

I can't tell if he is being covertly sarcastic when he mentions brunch, but the idea of the two of them meeting at some place where Annalise and i likely go is, for whatever reason, amusing to me.

"Spend the night here?" i raise my eyebrows in incredulity. "An hour ago you all wanted to kill each other."

"Yeah, well, i don't have much of a  choice in the matter," Teddy reasons. "But there's not a chance i'm going back to rehab. Not tonight, not ever. I'm done."

I gulp at the severity of his tone. He speaks as if it is already a done deal, and, judging by the lack of reaction from Zephaniah and Yakov, it very well may be.

"Will you be coming home soon?" i ask, trying to sound as indifferent as possible.

Teddy's expression is just as unrevealing after i ask this question — just as icy and distant as it normally is — and yet i can't help but be reminded that he held a gun to Zephaniah's head after finding out he had shot me — that he stood up for me when he thought i wasn't around.

Even then, i urge myself not to think anything of it. He was notably pissed off that Zephaniah and Yakov had kept him in the dark about what happened, and it could have been just that.

"Well i certainly don't plan on staying here," he answers, simply.

Zephaniah and Yakov stand either side of him, sharing a knowing look at his words. I simply nod my head in understanding, and he continues to stare at me with those soulless eyes of his.

I've always thought that Teddy's death stare was a gift. I imagine he could just as easily get somebody to confess to their crimes as he could unnerve people trying to interrogate him into admitting his. If only he could work on being a little more level-headed...

"We ought to get you home, Rori," Yakov decides a moment later, interrupting our staring match. "The two of you can catch up another time, hm?"

I sigh slightly, and nod in reluctance. I arrived over two hours ago, and was due to be home right about now. While i don't feel particularly tired, my sleep schedule is still very much awry and it is bound to catch up to me.

Yakov grabs my coat before i have the chance to, and holds it open for me. Rather than feeling grateful at such a gentlemanly act, i clench my jaw in frustration of being made to feel helpless. Nevertheless, i do not comment as i put my arms through the sleeves.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to leave the two of them unsupervised?" i mutter to him, as we are about to head out the door.

Yakov follows my gaze to where Zephaniah and Teddy stand a few feet away from us, giving me an uncharacteristic shrug in response.

"It'll allow them to work out their differences, no?" he mutters in response.

I notice something from the corner of my eye, inconspicuously resting on the console table by the entrance of Yakov's apartment. So casually placed, it could almost be mistaken as one of his many eclectic ornamentation.

Something, of course, being the gun Teddy brought with him.

With slow steps, i approach the table, gazing down at the object with concentrated eyes.

I have often heard the phrase 'If you play with fire, you get burned', but my family preferred the phrase 'Dulce periculum'.

Danger is sweet.

I have witnessed my eldest brother succumb to a drug placed in his drink by one of his associates, and potentially prevented him from experiencing worse. I have been forced to revisit the time i murdered a man in cold blood, and i have stepped in the line of fire to prevent the man who blackmailed me with such knowledge from being shot. And all of that i have experienced in the span of a few months.

I used to believe i was desensitised to such danger.

One thing would happen, and it may have affected me for a small moment in time, but i would only be thrown into further upheaval, as if i was being humbly reminded that i cannot escape my destiny in life.

As i look at the weapon before me, i feel a mixture of emotions. And then, suddenly, my brain conjures up a radical thought.

I may not have chosen to live a life ruled by crime, but i can hardly say i have ever ran away from said life and the danger that comes with it.

If anything, i charge towards danger with every chance that i get...

"Rori."

At the sound of Yakov's baritone voice calling my name, i face my brothers with a newfound awareness.

"Say goodnight to your brothers now."

The three of them no longer appear so amused, but instead look at me with unconcealed curiosity.

"You good?" Teddy asks me, eyebrows furrowed.

I nod my head as i release a breath. Not one of uncertainty or trepidation, but one of clarity.

"Better than ever," i respond without

pretence.

I will not crash and burn in the face of adversity like everyone undoubtedly expects me to.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger...right?

A/N: As always, editing was the most tedious part of the writing process. Even more so than usual, in this case. This is one of the longest chapters i have written. Perhaps not the longest (i honestly can't remember) but 10,861 words nonetheless, not including this lengthy Author's Note.

I took a much needed break from Wattpad, but that doesn't mean i will promise you regularity in terms of future updates. The exam that will determine whether or not i get the grade i need to accept my place at university is in exactly a month, and, naturally, that's where my focus will be.

I appreciate the messages some of you left on my board and i am sorry that i ghosted you this time around, but, like i said, the break was much needed when i was experiencing a strain on my mental health, which writing was certainly contributing to.

I hope the longer chapter makes up for me being M.I.A since January, though, from experience of being a reader of books with the slowest m-fing updates in the world, i fully understand that the wait feels excruciatingly long 😅.