"Cut the crap, Keenan, and go straight to the point. What the hell do you want?" Jaden snapped, shifting uncomfortably in the leather seat. The dim light of the penthouse living room cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the way his bandaged right hand rested awkwardly on his thigh.
Keenan leaned back in the plush armchair opposite him, stretchig one arm along the backrest, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. He looked utterly amused, like a cat toying with a half-dead mouse.
"That's no way to talk to your older brother, is it?" Keenan drawled, arching a single brow high in mock offense.
Jaden's face twisted into a scowl, irritation flaring hot in his chest. "Stepbrother," he corrected sharply, biting off the word like it tasted foul. "And please, just get to the point. I have other things to do."
Keenan's eyes gleamed with dark humor. He nodded slowly, almost indulgently, then let his gaze drift downward, deliberately slow to Jaden's bandaged hand. Jaden noticed the look immediately. Heat rushed to his cheeks, and for a split second, the urge to hide the useless lump of flesh surged through him. He resisted, forcing himself to leave it there, exposed, defiant.
"Things to do, you say," Keenan murmured, voice dripping with mockery. "Does it have anything to do with your check-up on that now-useless hand of yours?" His eyes glinted as Jaden's jaw clenched visibly, the muscle ticking under the skin.
Jaden didn't bother asking how Keenan knew about the latest doctor visit, the endless scans, the grim prognosis, the quiet pity in the surgeon's voice. Keenan always knew. He always watched.
"You're still following me like the creep that you are," Jaden spat, venom lacing every syllable.
Keenan's smirk widened, lazy and unbothered. "Creep? No, little brother. I'm checking on you. Family looks out for family, doesn't it?"
Jaden barked a bitter, humorless laugh that echoed harshly in the quiet room. "Family?" He leaned forward slightly, eyes blazing. "You care about no one but yourself. Always have. Dad proved that when he wrote your mom that fat check and told her to vanish with you. Ten million dollars to erase the mistake, that's what you've always been to everyone. A mistake they paid to forget."
The words sliced through the air like a blade.
For a split second, something raw and ugly flickered across Keenan's face, old rage, festering wound-deep from childhood. His fingers twitched against the back of the chair, knuckles whitening just enough to betray the hit.
But then he threw his head back and laughed. Low at first, then louder, slow, genuine, cruel amusement that made the hairs on Jaden's neck stand up.
"Touché," Keenan said, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. "You always did have Dad's sharp tongue. Shame you didn't inherit his survival instincts."
He leaned forward abruptly, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locking onto Jaden's with predatory intensity.
"But look at us now," Keenan continued, voice silky and dangerous. "Golden boy Jaden, perfect son, perfect dancer, perfect life,sitting here with a crippled hand and no future at all. And me? I've got money that doesn't come from Daddy's guilt, power that no one can buy away, and men who'd kill for me without blinking." He tilted his head, smile sharpening. "Funny how things turn out, isn't it?"
Jaden's breath came faster, but he held Keenan's gaze, refusing to look away.
Keenan's voice dropped, casual as if discussing the weather. "I know Knight did that to you. You messed with his wife, didn't you?"
Jaden's jaw locked so tight it ached, the muscle jumping visibly. "I didn't mess with her."
Keenan waited, patient, head tilted like he already knew the confession was coming.
"I…" Jaden's voice cracked, just barely, raw emotion bleeding through. "I love her." The admission hung heavy in the air, vulnerable and desperate. "And she had feelings for me. I know she did… before everything."
He trailed off, the memory searing behind his eyes: Genesis's horrified expression that day in the studio, the blood, the scream, the way she'd let Knight drag her away without a fight.
Keenan threw his head back again and laughed, loud, mocking, the sound ricocheting off the high ceilings like gunfire.
"Love?" he wheezed, clutching his chest dramatically as if it physically hurt. "Oh, that's rich. Tell me, Romeo, has she come running since your little… accident? Sent flowers to the hospital? A sympathy card, maybe? Called to check if her poor, broken dancer is okay?" He paused, letting the silence crush down. "Or did she go home to the man who turned you into a cripple, spread her legs for him, and let him fuck her while you cried into your pillow like the pathetic child you are?"
Jaden's face drained of color, then flushed pink with humiliated fury. His good hand curled into a fist, knuckles bone-white against his lap.
"Shut up," he growled through gritted teeth.
Keenan wasn't done. He pressed on, voice dripping with honeyed venom. "What did Mom and Dad say when the scholarship evaporated? When the scouts stopped calling? When their perfect prodigy became just another has-been with a deformed hand?" He leaned closer, eyes glittering. "Are they still so proud? Or do they finally see the disappointment they've been hiding behind all those applause and trophies?"
Jaden's breathing turned ragged, chest heaving. The words struck deep, every insecurity, every whispered doubt from his parents' worried glances.
Keenan's smile turned predatory, sensing blood in the water.
"But I can change that."
Jaden's head snapped up, wary hope warring with suspicion in his eyes.
"Help me get rid of Kieran Blackwood," Keenan said, voice smooth as aged whiskey. "And Genesis is yours. Completely. No more monster guarding her door. No more gilded cage. You'll be the hero who saved her from him. She'll run to you. Need you. Want you. Beg for you." He shrugged casually, as if offering a cup of coffee. "And that hand? It won't matter anymore. You'll have her, every part of her. Forever."
In Keenan's mind, the plan crystallized with cold precision: dangle the bait, use the broken boy to breach Knight's defenses. Let Jaden dream of victory. Then, once Knight lay dead, claim Genesis for himself. Break her body and spirit slowly, deliciously. And silence Jaden with a single bullet before he ever laid a finger on her.
Jaden stared at him, breath coming in sharp bursts, mind racing.
Then he shook his head, slow at first, then harder, more sure.
"Never." He surged to his feet, voice trembling but firm with revulsion. "I don't know what sick, twisted game you're playing, but count me out. I'd rather rot in obscurity than help you anywhere near her."
He turned sharply toward the door, strides fueled by fury and fear.
Keenan's smile evaporated in an instant, face hardening into stone.
"Sit your ass down."
Jaden ignored him, hand reaching for the handle.
Keenan's voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "I said sit."
Jaden's fingers closed around the cool metal.
The two silent, hulking men by the door stepped forward in perfect sync, blocking his path like living walls.
Keenan rose slowly from his chair, adjusting his cuffs with calmly.
"Last chance, Jaden," he said softly, almost regretful. "Help me take Knight down… or I bury you right here, right now. No one will miss the spare son. Your choice."
Jaden turned slowly, back pressed to the door, good hand clenched into a useless fist, ruined one hanging limp and throbbing at his side.
His eyes burned, hatred, terror, and something desperate, unbroken.
"Rot in hell, Keenan."
Keenan sighed, the sound almost sad, almost pitying.
"Wrong answer."