"Are you sure that guy won't recognize you?" Alvarez took a long drag from his cigarette and gave him a piercing look.

"I was fifteen. And it was dark."

"But you recognized him right away."

"That face's been haunting my nightmares for over ten years," Phantom muttered. "In his eyes, I was just some street kid."

"All right. So you're really sure you want to go see him first? You could always plant a tracker in Ezra's car—that'd lead us straight to the place."

He'd considered that. But it felt wrong to use Ezra like that. Like he was taking the easy way out, when this was the one moment he couldn't afford to be a coward. Planting a tracker himself, inside that house—it felt better. Cleaner. "I don't want to improvise once I'm there. If I've already been inside, I'll be much better prepared."

Phantom wasn't looking forward to it. When he'd met Ezra's mother two weeks ago, he'd barely kept his emotions in check. A distance had grown between them, one he hadn't tried to close.

First, he had to do what he'd promised himself.

Then there'd be plenty of time to come back together again. Where Phantom had been completely alone when his brother took his final breath, Ezra would have someone to lean on. Someone to pull him through the grief. To help him mourn—something Phantom had barely done himself. Maybe he could finally do that as well. Maybe they could mourn together, and then look forward to what life still had to offer.

He turned back to Alverez. "I want to do it the way I described."

"And only one brother's going with you, a week later?"

"Yes." That was already more than he wanted, but his president had insisted. They were family, and this was a dangerous mission. He wasn't allowed to handle it alone.

A few months ago, he never would've imagined it—but he wanted Esai to go with him. They'd had their clashes, sure, but when Lola had been kidnapped, he was the one who'd shown up. They'd worked together fast and effectively. That's what he needed now too.

Esai could be a dick sometimes, but Phantom had a decent read on him—more than he could say for most of his brothers.

"Okay. So all you need is a sedative to paralyze him? I can get that for you. And you wanted the fire to look like an electrical short—how're you planning on doing that?"

"I'm not sure yet. Depends what the house looks like. If the fuse box is near the bedroom, I'll set that on fire. Otherwise, maybe the dryer or mess with an extension cord."

Hopefully, the guy lived somewhere remote enough that there really wouldn't be any security. Time would tell.

The looming encounter with Ezra's brother kept Phantom awake at night.

His biggest fear was that he wouldn't be able to hide his hatred. That the man would immediately know Phantom had used Ezra just to get close to him.

Other times, he saw Ezra kneeling over his brother's charred body, tears streaming down his face. The real pain hit when Ezra turned around, glared at him, and screamed that he had done this.

Some of those nightmares made him want to call the whole thing off.

But the determination always came crawling back.

The voice in his head that Jacob didn't deserve to live was too loud, too persistent. It drowned out everything else.

Only once that bastard was dead would Travis truly be at peace.

And not just Travis—Phantom too.

He'd only started making real plans for revenge a few months ago, but the sense of duty had always been there, simmering under the surface. Just waiting for the right spark. And the fact that the bastard had randomly crossed his path—that had to mean something.

The universe was screaming at him that he was on the right path. In the end, it would be better for Ezra and his mother too. He'd heard enough stories to be certain—they were better off without Jacob.

Still, no matter how sure he was, he felt nauseous as he stepped off the plane with Ezra and his mother.

He blamed it on the flight—he'd never flown before—but deep down, he knew Jacob was the real reason.

He was scared of the confrontation. Scared he wouldn't be able to keep up the act.

Ezra's mother was cheerful, chatting nonstop about anything and everything. It made Ezra smile, which helped cover the fact that Phantom was quiet and spent most of the taxi ride staring out the window.

Every now and then, Ezra touched his hand or his knee, trying to reconnect. They hadn't seen each other since visiting his mother; Phantom had kept his distance with excuses, afraid he wouldn't be able to keep pretending much longer.

How was he supposed to keep it up today?

But next week, Jacob will be dead. That's what matters. Right now, you're just scared Ezra will see through you and everything will fall apart. That you'll lose him—and fail your brother.

When they stepped out in front of the run-down, somewhat secluded house, Phantom impulsively reached for Ezra's hand and pulled him closer.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I haven't felt like myself lately. I'll work on it, I promise. I think seeing your brother—while mine isn't here anymore—is hitting me harder than I expected."

Ezra hugged him, kissed him, then looked at him with those heartbreakingly kind eyes. "I get it. I'm just grateful you're here. It means a lot to us—that you came despite how hard this must be for you."

The words stung. The guilt festered.

He wished it were already over.

Maybe, just maybe, he'd get a chance to—
No. Stick to the plan. Don't do anything reckless and screw everything up.

They walked over the overgrown tiles toward the front door. 

Esther's optimism had vanished. She stopped halfway through the yard, looking around in dismay. "Did they really have to give him this dump?"

"He's been living here for four months, ma. Plenty of time to fix it up a bit himself."

"That depends! Maybe the inside's just as bad!"

"Did you expect a villa? This is a decent place. More space than he's ever had." Ezra walked up to the door, looked for a bell, then knocked on the wood with his knuckles.

Phantom tried to give Ezra's mother a reassuring smile, but it slid right off his face. His stomach twisted. Sweat broke out on his back.

He should've listened to Alvarez and just planted a tracker on Ezra's clothes. Now he was going to throw up in this guy's front yard.

The door opened.

A balding figure filled the frame, leaning casually against the doorpost. "There they are."

Where Ezra was lean and toned, Jacob's belly hung over his pants. He reeked of beer and his clothes were sloppy, like he didn't know how to use a washing machine—and hadn't found a laundromat yet either.

"Well, come in then. I've been bored as hell." He clapped Ezra on the shoulder. "First that damn cell, now this. Don't think I've forgiven you yet, little brother. I could've been on the damn Bahamas instead of here."

Ezra snorted. "With what money?"

Jacob didn't answer. He spread his arms wide. "Ma. You're looking good." He pulled her into his bulky frame.

Phantom swallowed hard. He couldn't look away.

The monster.

He could see the alley in his peripheral vision—the walls closing in. Travis's rough hand grabbing his arm from behind.

That mocking, condescending laugh. That maniacal grin.

The two gunshots.

Breathe. Shake it off. It was over ten years ago. Let it go.

But he couldn't. That one moment had become part of everything he was—like a tattoo etched into every cell of his body. Staining him.

On instinct, he reached for the small of his back—where he usually carried his gun outside the club.

It wasn't there. He hadn't been able to take it on the plane.

As if sensing his thoughts, Jacob looked straight at him—over his mother's shoulder. His brows lifted before he turned to his brother.

"Who's that? Picked up a new boyfriend?" Jacob narrowed his eyes, fixing Phantom with a scrutinizing look. "Didn't think you were into street trash."

It stung—that he could see it right away. That he recognized one of his own kind. As if Phantom could never fully wash the street off himself.

"I met him at the hospital, after we found that biker at the landfill."

"Hm. He's looking at me like it's my fault that guy didn't die. That was your boyfriend's idea, by the way. I was fine leaving him there."

"Of course you were." The words shot out before Phantom could stop them. Fuck. He bit his tongue too late.

Jacob narrowed his eyes. He turned to Ezra, but stayed silent.

Phantom tried to shove his emotions into a corner. He had to get them under control.

The room fell silent. The tension was so thick even Ezra's mother couldn't talk it away.

Phantom was about to turn around. Say he'd come by later—he just needed a moment. Ezra would understand. The rest could go to hell.

But his feet wouldn't move.

He was stuck—torn between that blood-soaked alley and this overgrown front yard. Between his dying brother and the man who'd made him feel something again after all these years.

His old life and his new one.

And suddenly, he saw the two worlds crashing into each other. Colliding. Destroying everything in their path.

Ezra would never forgive him. Sooner or later, he'd find out. He'd run into the wall where Phantom had buried the truth, and he'd keep hitting it until it crumbled.

Suddenly, Phantom felt a hand grab his collar—fingers tightening around his throat.

His ears rang. What the hell—?

Pale blue eyes stared him down. "Who are you?"

"Jacob!"

Ezra's shout snapped Phantom out of it. He slammed his fist into Jacob's jaw, grabbed his shoulders, and drove his knee into his groin.

Jacob cursed and doubled over.

"What the fuck, man!" Ezra rushed between them.

"He's not who you think he is," Jacob growled. "He's here for me, you idiot."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"The hate's practically pouring out of his eyes, man. Look at him!"

Ezra turned.

The confusion in his eyes cut Phantom to the core.

Fuck. Fuck.

He'd been exposed.

Phantom swallowed hard, his throat raw with the emotions he was desperately trying to keep down. But there was no point in lying.

Ezra saw what his brother saw—he knew it.

So Phantom told the truth. Even though it would change everything. Even though his carefully built plan had just gone up in flames.

"It was him." The words came out as a broken whisper. "He killed my brother."

He wanted to turn to Jacob. To channel every emotion into pure, frozen rage. To tell him exactly what he had coming.

But Ezra's gray eyes held him there—searching, questioning, trying to separate truth from fiction.

Phantom felt his eyes sting. He clenched his fists.

A thousand thoughts fought for space. He wanted Ezra to know his brother deserved justice. That he had used him—but that it didn't make his feelings any less real.

Nothing came out.

The words stuck in his throat, crushed by fury and helplessness.

So he turned and stormed off.

Out of sight, he punched a tree. Pain shot up his arm. He screamed, releasing his frustration.

And the tears that had been clinging to the edges of his eyes finally spilled over.