Eighteen years old ...

I jolted awake upon hearing and uproarious thump on my bedroom door. Damien, my eight-year-old brother, was undisturbed by the sound as he slept peacefully beside me. His mouth hung open as he snored and drool dripped down his chin. I lifted the blanket and checked to see if he had wet himself, and I felt a smile stretch across my face when I noticed he was dry. This was the fourth night in a row that he didn’t wet the bed, and as soon as he woke up, I was going to praise the hell out of him for it.

Unlike Dominic, Damien’s twin, he didn’t suffer nightmares that resulted in him having no control over his bladder, but that wasn’t Damien fault. Damien was very sensitive compared to Dominic and our other brothers. He scared easily, and when he was scared, he craved affection. I never minded him crawling into my bed during the night simply because I knew he just needed to be comforted. He never received comfort from my parents, not for his lack of trying, so he always came to me in the end. He never wanted to appear like a baby to his other brothers, so his bed-wetting was our secret.

I looked from my brother to the door when another loud knock sounded. I pushed the blanket away from my body, got out of bed, and walked over to the door, scratching my ass as I went. I opened the door, and when I saw my father standing on the other side, I blinked.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “I’ve got a job for you.”

“A job?” I repeated.

Dad nodded, but before he spoke, he looked over my shoulder and saw Damien in my bed. He narrowed his eyes at my brother then looked at me and said, “What’s he doing in your room?”

“He’s sick,” I lied. “He was throwing up during the night, so I brought him in here so I could keep an eye on him.”

If my dad knew that Damien wet the bed, he’d bash him until my brother screamed. He would view it as a weakness and would attempt to beat that weakness out of him. He’d do the same if he knew Damien slept in my bed with me for no other reason than he wanted to be close to me. He’d hurt him for that too.

“He probably has the flu.” Dad grimaced. “Some of the guys he annoys when they’re on patrol have it.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “He probably does, but he’ll be fine once he gets some rest. Dominic snores so he can’t sleep in there; in here with me is quiet.”

Dad grunted. “Aren’t you a regular Mother-fucking-Theresa?”

I tensed. “He’s my brother, so it’s not a hardship for me to look after him.”

Dad snorted. “Get dressed and meet me in the courtyard in five minutes.”

With that said, he turned and walked down the hallway. He didn’t ask if Damien was okay nor did he check on him himself, which didn’t surprise me. There wasn’t a paternal bone in the man’s body. I closed the door, then went into my private bathroom and took a quick shower. When I was finished, I dried myself and dressed warm. It was winter and had been snowing for the past few days, so that meant I needed to put on layers. Damien woke up as I was tying the laces up my boots, sitting up in the bed and rubbing his eyes. I looked up at him and smiled; he was so cute. He was in need of a haircut, the long strands stuck up in all directions making him look crazy.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

Damien yawned. “Morning.”

He smacked his lips together a couple of time before his eyes widened, and he hurriedly reached down and patted his pants. When he looked up at me, a huge smile stretched across his lips. “I didn’t wet the bed.”

I whooped, sprung to my feet, then jumped on my brother who was laughing so hard that he stopped making sounds which amused me greatly.

“You’re doing great, buddy,” I said, ruffling his wild hair.

Damien rested back against my pillow with a smile. “Why are you dressed?”

I looked down at my clothes, then back to my brother, and said, “Dad has a job for me.”

Damien frowned. “What kind of job?”

“I don’t know,” I answered. “I have to meet him in the courtyard and find out.”

My brother yawned again. “I’ll go back to my room then. Dominic is probably still asleep, so I’ll play the PlayStation until he wakes up.”

I bumped fists with him. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

As we left the room, Damien said, “Thanks for letting me sleep with you again.”

His voice was low, and redness tinged his cheeks.

I squatted in front of him, and said, “Bro, I like having cuddles with you, so I don’t mind when you get scared and want to sleep with me. Don’t even think about it, okay?”

Damien smiled, his dimples creasing his chubby cheeks. “Okay. I love you, Ry.”

“I love you, too.”

I watched as he turned and ran down the hallway. I straightened to my full height when he entered his bedroom and closed the door behind him. I turned and made my way down the stairs and out to the courtyard, grabbing my coat from its hanger on the way. I zipped it up and shoved my hands into the coat’s pockets because it was fucking freezing outside. I could see my breath in the air when I exhaled. I followed the voices and found my father talking to a couple of strange men. I coughed so they were aware of my presence.

The last thing I needed was to overhear something that wasn’t meant for my ears.

My dad looked over his shoulder, spotted me, and waved me over. When I reached them, his slung his arm around my shoulder and to the men I had never seen before, he said, “This is my eldest son, Ryder.”

“No DNA test required.” The grey-haired man on my right laughed. “He’s your clone.”

My stomach churned. I knew I looked like my dad, and I hated it.

“Let’s see if he’s like me business wise, too.”

I looked at him and said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He snorted. “I want to see what skills you have, so I can decide where to place you. You’re good at numbers, so I’m thinking heading runs will be for you.”

I resisted the urge to close my eyes and sigh. A ‘run’ was what everyone in the compound called when someone was running a drug or weapons deal. I had noticed over the past year that my dad was on my case a lot pushing math my way for me to figure out someone else’s runs, but I didn’t think I’d actually have to head them myself. Marco and my dad were all about money. If they paid for product, they wanted to sell it for a decent profit. Falling short was never an option, and I knew a few men over the years who had disappeared after unsuccessful runs, or worse, having a shipment impounded by the cops.

“Can I talk to you?”

My dad nodded, before moving us away from the strange men.

“What?”

I cleared my throat. “What exactly am I going to be doing? I ... I don’t want to mess it up so give it to me straight.”

I didn’t want to head a run, or participate in one of any kind, but if I was going to do it, I wanted all the information I could get so I could do it correctly. I knew that if I disappointed my father, it wouldn’t bode well for me or my brothers. I had to impress him to keep him happy and to do that meant I had to do a good job during my run.

“That’s my boy.” Dad grinned and clamped his hand on my shoulder. “It’s a small run, considering it’s your first time. I’ve about twenty hundred pounds of heroine that I want you to sell.” He handed me a folded piece of paper. “This a list of the weight, amount I paid for it, and amount I expect you to sell it for during your run. Any less than the number on the paper and it’s not a job well done, am I clear?”

I swallowed but nodded my head as I read the paper, then folded it and tucked it into my pocket. He said it was a small run, but twenty pounds of heroin could run for over a million bucks.

“Will this just take the day?”

“No,” he answered. “You’ll be gone a week, at least. Runs take time, you know this.”

I froze. “But ... but Damien is sick, I need to take care of him.”

He wasn’t sick, but his nightmares and his bed-wetting might reoccur, and if that happened, then he needed me.

“You need to take care of him?” Dad snorted. “He’s not yours, Ryder.”

I stepped back and stared at my father.

“He’s as much mine as he is yours, if not more.”

Dad laughed. “Really? How do you figure that?”

“Because I take care of him all of the time. I take care of the others, too. I always have.”

“Bullshit, you had a nanny most of your life.”

“Most of my life?” I repeated on a laugh. “Mom fired her when Kane was one because you were fucking her, and Mom never said that you could. We haven’t had a nanny since then.”

Dad waved his hand in front of me, dismissing the truth.

“Ryder, Damien will be fine. Don’t worry about the brat.”

Worrying about Damien and my other brothers was all I did.

“You have no clue what it’s like to worry about them,” I said, my jaw tensed. “You have no fucking clue.”

Dad sighed, and checked his watched, clearly done with this conversation but I wasn’t ... not by a long shot.

“I’m five years older than Kane, but I’ve always took care of him. I can remember being six and having to go into his and Alec’s bedroom because he was crying and neither you or Mom were home to take care of him. I was terrified. I had to climb into his crib and then climb out with him because I wasn’t strong enough pull the bar down.” My eyes stung with unshed tears. “I didn’t know how to change a diaper, so I stripped him naked and cleaned him as best as I could with wet wipes. I carried him down to the kitchen and had to lay him on the cold floor while I got regular milk and heated it up in the microwave. I cried the entire time and so did Kane. I put the milk in a bottle, picked him up, and carried him up to my room. I held him until he was fed, then I tucked him and Alec into my bed and watched over them until morning. I did that with them a lot, then I did it when the twins were born too. I did all that, never you.”

My dad shook his head. “Is there a reason you’re telling me this story?”

“They’re my kids!” I hissed, my voice low. “I’m telling you so you understand one thing. I’m sick of you disregarding them as if they’re nothing. They’re worth hell of a lot, and I’m not going to work for you if you don’t make sure they’re taken care of when I’m not here to do the job myself.”

“Ryder,” Dad glared. “They are my sons—”

“They’re mine!”

My father raised both of his eyebrows. He didn’t care that I was declaring that his sons were mine; he was surprised that I was raising my voice to him, and that infuriated me. He should fight for my brothers because they were worth fighting for.

“I’ve been everything that you have never been to them. To me. They’re my brothers, but I’m the one raising them. If they’re anyone’s kids, they’re mine, and fuck you if you think otherwise. I’m fucking done acting as your puppet. If I’m old enough to work for you, then you better start treating me like a man and respect me, or you can get fucked.”

Things were silent for just a few moments until my dad spoke.

“Ryder”—he sighed, long and deep—”if you want them, you can have them. I honestly don’t give a fuck. All that matters to me is that you and your brothers contribute to our business. It’s the entire reason I made your mother have you guys in the first place. I wanted only sons to strengthen our empire. There is a reason she aborted the girl she got pregnant with a few years after the twins were born. I can barely deal with your mother, never mind another bitch.”

I felt like air around me suddenly disappeared. I had never known this piece of information before now, and I wanted to scream and ask if it was the truth. I could have had a baby sister ... but I was robbed of that, just as I was robbed of having decent fucking parents.

“You ... You checked to see what our genders were before you decided on whether or not we would be born?”

“Yes,” Dad answered, unashamed. “Like I said, I only wanted boys. Girls serve no purpose to me unless they go to work.”

I balled my hands into fists because we both knew what ‘work’ meant for girls who got involved with my father and Marco.

“Listen,” I said, gruffly. “I’ll do this job, and I’ll do it well, on the condition that when I’m not here, my brothers are taken care of.”

My dad regarded me for a long moment, then said, “Deal.”

“Good,” he continued. “Now, come on. No more bullshit talk about your brothers. From now on, our only conversations are to be about runs.”

He rounded on me and returned to the strangers who were talking quietly until my father returned to their circle. I felt my heart pound against my chest, and my palms were slick with sweat, but I didn’t care because I had done something I had never done ... I stood up to my father. I made it clear to him that he was nothing to me and my brothers, and that I was the parent he should have been.

He didn’t care ... I knew he wouldn’t, but he now knew that if he wanted me to head runs and to make them successful, then he would ensure my brothers were taken care of when I wasn’t around. It meant nothing to my father, but it meant everything to me. Once I did this job well, it would be extra security for my brothers. Their safety was all that mattered to me, and if it meant I had to run drugs and weapons ... then so fucking be it.