Paint peeled from the walls. The roof sagged in the middle like it had given up trying to hold itself together. The door hung open.
Rex slowed as they approached.
“This where you live?” he asked.
The boy nodded.
Inside, it smelled like dust… and something worse.
Rex stepped in first.
Every instinct in his body went rigid.
Then he saw him.
Eli lay on a narrow couch, one arm hanging off the side, fingers inches from the floor. His face was pale. Too pale. His chest—still.
Rex didn’t move.
For a long second, he just stood there.
“No…” he whispered.
The boy ran past him.
“Dad,” he said, climbing onto the couch, shaking Eli’s shoulder again. “Dad, I brought him. See? I told you I’d find him…”
Nothing.
Rex forced himself forward.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
He reached the couch.
Looked down.
And everything inside him cracked.
Eli looked older. Thinner. Worn down by something Rex hadn’t been there to see. But it was him. No doubt. Not even after seven years.
Rex’s voice came out broken.
“…Eli.”
The boy looked up.
“You know him,” he said, almost hopeful.
Rex swallowed hard.
“Yeah,” he said. “I know him.”
He crouched slowly beside the couch.
His hand hovered… then finally touched Eli’s arm.
Cold.
Rex flinched like he’d been burned.
“No…” he breathed.
Behind him, one of the bikers stepped into the doorway, then stopped cold.
“Rex…” he said quietly.
Rex didn’t answer.
His eyes were locked on his brother’s face.
“I thought you ran,” Rex said under his breath. “I thought you took the money and disappeared…”
The boy shook his head quickly.
“No,” he said. “He didn’t take anything. He said they lied.”
Rex’s eyes closed for a second.
The room spun.
Seven years.
Seven years of believing a lie.
Seven years of hate.
Seven years… wasted.
The boy tugged on his sleeve.
“Can you wake him up?” he asked, small and desperate. “He listens to bikers. He said… he said you were strong…”
Rex’s chest broke open at the words.
Slowly, he reached into his jacket.
Pulled out a worn leather patch.
A wolf.
The same one burned into the toy.
He looked at the boy.
“What’s your name?” he asked quietly.
The boy sniffed.
“Leo.”
Rex nodded once.
Then he placed the patch gently on Eli’s chest.
“I’m sorry,” Rex whispered.
The boy stared.
“For what?” Leo asked.
Rex looked at him.
Really looked at him.
At the eyes.
At the face.
At the blood they shared.
“For not coming sooner,” Rex said.
Outside, the wind picked up.
Inside, everything had already changed.
Rex stood up slowly.
Then held out his hand.
“Come on, Leo,” he said.
The boy hesitated.
Then took it.
And for the first time since he entered the yard…
Rex didn’t look like the most feared man there.
He looked like a brother who was too late.
And a father who wouldn’t be again.
