chapter 2 . Brooklyn

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Olivia's POV

The car hummed quietly as we drove back to Manhattan. Ian hadn't stopped blaming me since we left the Guggenheim, his voice sharp in my ear. And truth be told, he was right. It was my fault.

I hadn't told anyone. Not Shelly, not Leo. I'd gone on a solo mission—reckless, yes, but deliberate.

It started when I found a file Leo had left on the living room table, a plan he was working on. Safe, cautious, minimal chance of failure. That wasn't my style. I wanted to prove myself. I wanted something bolder. So I came up with my own plan. And sure, the ending wasn't exactly what I wrote in my head... but the mission wasn't a failure. It never is when I'm in charge. Failure isn't an option.

I thrive on risk. More risk, quicker results. That's how I work. And tonight? My ending was super cool—Mark bleeding on the floor.

But of course, Leo ruined it. He always does. He'll never admit it, but he's far more dangerous to criminals than I am. And me? I'm dangerous to everyone. Brothers included.

Don't mind me. I'm used to being the "evil" one. The grounded one. The reckless one. Ian's punching bag, Shelly's little sister, Leo's eternal headache.

Science, tech, biology—that's what I majored in. A nerd, sure, but one with claws. Unlike Ian, who's too nice for his own good. I'm mean when I need to be. That's my life. Living with three brothers who are equal parts my family and my wardens.

And right now? I was furious at Leo for sabotaging my sabotage.

"Shut that damn mouth, Ian," I groaned.

"Are you even listening? You're lost in your own world again," he whined.

The car pulled up to the gates. They opened for us, guards bowing low as we passed.

The mansion loomed ahead—ancient stone, windows glowing like watchful eyes

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The mansion loomed ahead—ancient stone, windows glowing like watchful eyes. Ten decades of stories pressed into those walls. My home. My prison. My sanctuary.

We stepped out. I inhaled deeply. "We're both in this, right?"

"What? No." Ian scoffed. "I just came for the auction. You happened to be there."

"Great story, bun. Not gonna work." I grabbed his hand, crushing his fingers between mine until he hissed.

"It hurts, pig."

I rolled my eyes. We stepped into the living room. And there they were.

Leo and Shelly, seated like kings on the long couch, their eyes locked on us—sharp, disappointed. We took the opposite couch, trying to look casual, failing miserably.

 We took the opposite couch, trying to look casual, failing miserably

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