The stepbrother I shouldn't want

Chapter 28: Chapter 28: Brother to Brother

The phone rang at dawn.

Lucian answered on the second ring. He listened. His face changed. Not fear. Something colder. Resignation.

"They’re releasing her," he said.

I sat up on the couch. "What?"

"They want me to pick her up. Parking garage. Fourth and Main. Alone." He looked at Noah, who was asleep on my floor, wrapped in a blanket. "They said I can bring one other person. No cars. No police. Just us."

Noah’s eyes snapped open. "Amara?"

"Yes."

He was on his feet in seconds. "When?"

"Now."

⸻

We took my car. Lucian drove. Noah sat in the back, his knee bouncing so hard the seat shook. I rode shotgun, watching Lucian’s profile. His jaw was set. His hands were steady. But his thumb kept tapping the steering wheel. A countdown.

"How do they just release her?" I asked.

"Because I agreed to their terms." Lucian’s eyes stayed on the road. "Fixed amount. Two hundred thousand. Friday. They let her go as a show of good faith."

"Good faith?" I stared at him. "Lucian, they’re criminals. They don’t do good faith."

"They do when they want the money more than the hostage." He glanced at me. "She’s leverage that’s no longer useful. Keeping her costs them nothing. Releasing her buys my compliance."

"And you believe that?"

"I believe she’s alive." His voice hardened. "And I believe she’s walking out of that garage in ten minutes. That’s enough for now."

The parking garage was gray concrete and fluorescent hum. Level B2. We pulled in. Lucian parked and turned off the engine.

"Stay in the car," he said.

"Noah..." I started.

"Noah stays too." Lucian opened his door. "They said one other person. That’s Eliora. You’re too emotional, Noah. They see you, they might change their minds."

Noah’s face twisted. "She’s my sister."

"And you’re the reason she’s here." Lucian’s voice was flat. Not cruel. Just true. "They see you, they remember the debt. They remember the guarantee. You stay hidden."

He got out. I followed.

⸻

The garage was empty except for a black sedan idling in the far corner. Two men leaned against it. Suits. The same blank faces from the warehouse.

Between them, Amara.

She was standing. Not tied. Her clothes were rumpled, her hair tangled, but she was upright. Her eyes found Lucian first. Then me. Then she looked past us, scanning the car.

Noah ducked down in the backseat. She didn’t see him.

Lucian walked toward them. I stayed two steps behind, my heart hammering.

The taller man pushed off the car. "Lucian."

"Where’s the catch?" Lucian asked.

"No catch." The man smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. "Boss wants you motivated for Friday. Hard to focus when the girl’s screaming, yeah? So we give her back. Clean. Healthy." He leaned in. "But she learned some things while she was with us. Interesting things. Family history."

Lucian’s jaw tightened. "Let her walk."

The man stepped aside and opened the car door. Amara didn’t move. She stared at Lucian with an expression I’d never seen before. Pity. Anger. Grief. All mixed together.

"Go," the man said softly.

Amara walked toward us. Her legs were stiff, mechanical. Lucian met her halfway and put a hand on her elbow.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

She shook her head. But her eyes were red. She’d been crying for hours. Maybe days.

We walked back to my car. Lucian opened the back door for her. Amara slid in. She didn’t see Noah until she was already inside.

Then she froze.

Noah sat up slowly. His face was gray. "Mara..."

She slapped him.

The sound cracked through the car like a gunshot. Noah’s head snapped sideways. A red handprint bloomed on his cheek.

"You," Amara hissed. Her voice was raw. "They told me everything. In that room. They told me every single thing."

"Mara, I..."

"Three years!" She shoved him. Her fists beat against his chest. "Three years, Noah! You ran away and left him to pay! They showed me photographs! His bruises! His blood! They laughed about it! They said, ’Your brother’s friend is a good little ATM. Never complains. Never stops paying.’"

Noah grabbed her wrists. "Mara..."

"Don’t touch me!" She ripped free. Tears streamed down her face. "You put his name on that paper! You gambled our family’s safety! And Lucian..." She turned to Lucian in the driver’s seat. Her face crumpled. "Lucian sold his mother’s rings. He stole from his father. He let everyone hate him. For us. For our family. And you..." She spun back to Noah. "You let him. You watched from wherever you were hiding and let him destroy himself."

Noah’s hands dropped. His face was devastated.

"I didn’t know..."

"You didn’t want to know!" Amara screamed. "They told me you followed him sometimes. That you saw him at the pawn shop. That you saw him bleeding! And you still didn’t come back!"

The car went silent. Just Amara’s ragged breathing and the hum of the garage.

Noah looked at his hands. They were shaking.

"I was scared," he whispered.

"So was I!" Amara sobbed. "I was tied to a chair in a warehouse for two days! But I’m here! I’m facing you! What excuse do you have?"

Lucian started the engine. The sound was loud in the small space.

"We’re leaving. Now."

He drove fast, out of the garage and into the morning light.

Amara curled against the window, her arms wrapped around herself, crying silently. Noah sat frozen, his cheek red, his eyes empty.

I turned to Lucian. "Where are we going?"

"My apartment." His voice was flat. "Noah’s mother can’t see her like this. Not yet. We need to clean her up, calm her down, and figure out the next move."

We drove in silence. Amara’s crying faded to hiccups. Noah didn’t speak. He just stared at his sister’s back like she was a ghost he couldn’t touch.

⸻

At Lucian’s apartment, Amara went straight to the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on. The sound of water muffled her sobs.

Noah stood in the living room. He looked at Lucian.

"She’s right."

"I know."

"Everything she said. She’s right."

"I know, Noah." Lucian poured a glass of water and set it on the table. "Sit down. Drink something. We have until Friday to get two hundred thousand dollars. I need you functional, not self pitying."

Noah sat. He picked up the glass. His hands shook so hard the water spilled.

I watched them from the doorway. Lucian moved with precision. Purpose. He believed the deal was real. He believed Friday would end it.

But I kept hearing the man’s voice in the garage.

"She learned some things while she was with us. Interesting things. Family history."

They hadn’t released Amara out of good faith. They’d released her as a messenger, to tell Noah exactly how much Lucian had suffered. To guilt him into paying faster. To fracture the little family Lucian had left.

It was psychological warfare. And Lucian was walking straight into it with a checkbook.

⸻

I slipped into the hallway. I pulled out my phone. I opened my email and typed a message to Dr. Simon.

I need the security footage from the pathology lab. March 14th. Personal research. Please.

I hit send.

Then I opened a new tab. I searched for federal prosecutors. White collar crime. Racketeering.

Lucian wanted to believe in Friday. He needed to believe it to keep standing.

But I didn’t believe.

And when Friday came, I’d be ready with more than money. I’d be ready with evidence that could bury them forever.

The shower turned off in the bathroom. Amara’s crying had stopped.

But the war was far from over.

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