Chapter 6 - THE BROTHER WHO NEVER CAME HOME
Arthur survived.
Chloe disappeared from public view.
Gideon became the most wanted man in Chicago's criminal underworld.
Declan wanted him for Sean.
The authorities wanted him for everything else.
Mave wanted answers.
They found one inside the ledger.
A recurring payment to St. Matthew's Long-Term Care Facility in Wisconsin.
Recipient identified only as S.H.
Declan stared at the initials.
“No.”
Mave understood.
“Sean Hayes.”
“No.”
“Declan.”
“He'd have contacted me.”
“Unless he couldn't.”
They drove north.
St. Matthew's was not a hospital.
It was a private neurological care facility.
A nurse led them down a corridor.
Room 218.
Mave heard Declan stop behind her.
A man sat beside the window.
Forty years old now.
Thinner than Declan.
A scar crossed his temple.
His right hand rested motionless against his leg.
The nurse spoke softly.
“Sean?”
The man's head turned.
Declan couldn't move.
Mave did.
She crouched beside the chair.
“Sean?”
His eyes studied her.
Then dropped to the scar visible above her collar.
Something changed.
His left hand lifted.
Slowly.
Three taps against the wheelchair arm.
Pause.
Two.
Declan made a sound behind her.
Not a word.
Something breaking.
Sean looked past Mave.
At his brother.
“Dec.”
One syllable.
Declan crossed the room.
He knelt.
For a long time neither brother said anything.
They didn't need to.
Patrick Blake hadn't killed Sean.
He'd hidden him.
Sean had suffered a severe brain injury after being beaten the night of the fire.
Patrick discovered he survived.
Killing him risked questions.
So Patrick created a false identity and paid for long-term care through shell companies.
A living man had been turned into a ghost.
Sean remembered fragments.
But he remembered Mave.
“You... window.”
“Yes.”
“Fire.”
“Yes.”
His fingers touched his own chest.
“I... pushed.”
“You saved me.”
Sean's eyes filled.
Mave took his hand.
“You saved me.”
Declan looked away.
Sean squeezed her fingers.
Then whispered:
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“Couldn't... come back.”
Mave cried.
“You weren't supposed to.”
That evening, Declan stood alone outside the facility.
Mave joined him.
“I spent eleven years wanting to kill the person who murdered him.”
“He isn't dead.”
“I know.”
Declan laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“I don't know what to do with that.”
“You could start by having a brother.”
He looked at her.
“I don't know how anymore.”
“Neither does he.”
Silence.
Then Declan said:
“When I saw your scars…”
Mave waited.
“I thought about Sean.”
“I know.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I thought I'd failed another person.”
“You didn't know me.”
“Didn't matter.”
“It should.”
Declan frowned.
Mave continued.
“You don't get to turn protecting people into punishment for yourself.”
“You sound like a therapist.”
“I've had several.”
That made him smile.
Then his expression softened.
“I owe you.”
“No.”
“Mave—”
“Sean saved me. That debt is between Sean and me.”
She looked toward the window where his brother sat.
“And even then, I'm not sure saving someone creates a debt.”
Declan was quiet.
That was the first night Mave stopped being afraid of him.
Not because he became harmless.
He wasn't.
May you like
But because she finally understood the line he was trying not to cross.
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