Xavier’s POV

Blood doesn’t make you brothers.

Survival does.

And tonight, we were done surviving separately.

The night air was sharp enough to cut through skin.

Zayne leaned against the hood of his car, cigarette burning low between his fingers, his face half-lit by the streetlight.

We’d been sitting outside Marlowe’s apartment for almost an hour, the engine off, the silence loud enough to drown in.

“He’s not coming back,” Zayne muttered finally, flicking ash to the ground.

“He ...