Moonlight Scandals by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Lucian’s face paled as he gasped, “Holy shit.”

Stumbling back a step and against an empty chair, Rosie tried to draw in air, but it went nowhere as she stared at Lawrence. Her heart raced so fast she thought she might actually be sick.

Lawrence was going to shoot her. He’d aimed the gun at her and was going to shoot her.

But not anymore.

The utterly evil man was lying in front of the sofa, a bullet to the center of his chest and a pool of ruby-red liquid spreading across the hardwood floors. His eyes were open, fixed on the ceiling.

The man . . . the man was dead.

“Lucian,” Gabe started and then stopped.

“It wasn’t me.” Lucian was staring past Devlin and Gabe. “I was going to do it. I was going to shoot that bastard, but it wasn’t me. It was him .”

Rosie turned as if she were stuck in a dream. A man stood in the doorway, a man who looked so much like Devlin that she jolted, thinking at first that it was Devlin standing there, holding a gun, but it wasn’t, because Devlin was beside her, wrapping an arm around her. Devlin was touching her, skimming his hands over her body as if he were searching for a wound. The man who was utterly identical to Devlin was his twin.

“I was following him. Took me a while to get in here, though.” Payton lowered the gun. “He was going to shoot her. I had . . . I had to do something.”

Gabe was saying something else, but there was a buzzing in Rosie’s head that was drowning out what he was saying, drowning out everything around her.

There was a dead man right there.

She thought after everything she’d learned and what she’d experienced in her life, this wouldn’t be so shocking, but it was. Her entire being was rattled and there was a humming in her ears, in her veins.

Hands suddenly landed on her, gripping her arms and startling her. Devlin’s face was in hers. “Are you okay? Rosie, talk to me? Are you okay?”

She strained to see around his shoulder. She wasn’t even sure why. It was like she had to keep looking so she could keep telling herself that he was dead.

“Don’t. Come on, don’t look at him.” Dev lifted his hands, cupping her cheeks. He tilted her head back. “Look at me.”

Her gaze latched on to his and the next breath she took finally felt like it went somewhere. The room came back into focus as the buzzing in her ears receded.

“You know,” she said, her voice sounding hoarse and unused. “You could’ve picked a better time to say you loved me.”

Devlin let out a rough laugh. “Yeah, I probably could’ve picked a better time.” Dipping his chin, he kissed her forehead and then pulled back, scanning her entire body. “You sure you’re okay? You’re not hurt?”

She swallowed hard as she kept her gaze trained on his. “I don’t think he fired.”

A sound of relief poured out of him as he pulled her against him, folding his arms around her. “I’m so sorry,” he said, a tremble rolling through his body. “I’m so fucking sorry you had to see this. You had to hear this.”

“It’s okay.” Rosie dropped her head to his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him as tightly as he held her. “It’s okay.”

He curled his hand around the back of her head, fisting her hair. “It’s not okay, Rosie. None of this is okay.”

Her heart squeezed painfully. “I know,” she whispered. “But it’s going to be. It has to be now.”

Another shudder rocked him, and then all hell seemed to break loose.

A scream pierced through the room. Devlin pulled back, twisting his body so he kept Rosie behind him. Over his shoulder, she saw Julia in the doorway, behind Payton.

“Oh my God.” Julia had her hands up in front of her, as if she was warding off what she was seeing.

Rosie saw Julia race toward Lucian. He was no longer holding the gun he didn’t even fire. That was in Gabe’s hands as Julia clasped Lucian’s pale face. “Babe, what happened?” Panic clogged her voice. “What’s going on? Lucian, babe—”

Her cries were lost when Lucian pulled her to him, folding his body around her. He held Julia like . . . like Devlin had just held her, like he would sink if it weren’t for her.

All she could think was thank God Nikki was back at her place now and wasn’t here to witness this.

Everything happened in a blur at this point. Gabe put the gun down on the desk and he was on the phone, talking to someone. Rosie was ushered out of the room, along with Lucian and Julia, who was staring at Payton and Devlin like something was wrong with her eyes, and somehow the three of them ended up downstairs, in a cozy, comfortable living room that actually looked like a real one.

Lucian sat on the couch, his head in his hands while Julia rubbed his back. She’d been filled in, and her concern for Lucian was evident in every pained look she sent Rosie. Lucian hadn’t pulled the trigger, but he had been ready to, and that had gotten to him. That much was evident.

Rosie . . . she couldn’t sit still as Devlin and Gabe were doing God knew what upstairs. She paced the length of the living room a hundred times over. At some point she thought she heard voices—voices that weren’t Gabe’s or Devlin’s.

Who did they call?

Someone who was going to care of it all, remove the body and scrub the evidence away until it was like this person never existed?

God, a part of her couldn’t believe she was even thinking that, but this . . . this had become her life, because not once since the gun was fired and Lawrence went down did she even consider calling the police.

And when Devlin had decided to call the police, she had panicked. That wasn’t . . . that wasn’t like her. Or maybe it was and she was now just discovering that? She couldn’t find it in herself to judge Devlin.

She may have nightmares and she might need many, many years to deal with that, but she knew she wasn’t going to regret not calling the police. What she did regret was being put in that situation by an evil, out-of-control person.

Just like Devlin and his family had been put in that position all these years.

Rosie shuddered as she wrapped her arms around herself. Glancing over at Lucian and Julia, she bit down on her lip. She was worried about him. Julia drew him in toward her. Their heads bowed together, and Rosie turned away to give them some level of privacy.

She had no idea how much time had passed, but it was still dark outside when Devlin and Gabe appeared in the doorway. Payton wasn’t with them, and for a moment, she wondered if he’d even been there.

Before she had a chance to move, Lucian spoke for the first time since he came down to this room. “Where is our brother?”

“He left,” Devlin answered. “He thought it would be wise to come back at a . . . better time.”

“Better time?” Lucian coughed out a dry laugh.

Unfolding her arms, Rosie rushed over to Dev as Gabe dropped into the recliner. She gripped his arms, her gaze searching his. “Is everything . . . everything okay?”

Devlin didn’t respond as he pulled her to his chest and dropped his forehead to hers. Her hands went to his chest and she could feel his heart pounding under her palm.

“Everything has been taken care of.” Gabe sounded tired. “It’s over.”

Rosie pulled back, lifting her gaze to Devlin’s.

“Don’t ask,” he said, cupping her cheek. “You don’t want to know.”

Part of her did want to know and maybe that was the part of her that existed in a pool of morbid curiosity, but she could tell from Devlin’s shattered face, he didn’t want her to know the grittier details. At least not right now. So she asked, “What’s going to happen now?”

“We’re going on like we always do.” It was Lucian who answered, causing Rosie to twist around. He was leaning back against the couch now. “Stefan will be reported missing since Lawrence was already presumed dead. Another strange de Vincent disappearance to be whispered and gossiped about.”

Rosie winced.

“And we will go on like nothing happened, won’t we?” Lucian’s laugh lacked humor once again. “I mean, we should. That bastard . . . he didn’t deserve to live, but how are we . . . how are we any different?”

“Oh babe.” Julia cupped his cheek. “You are nothing like that man. Nothing like either of them.”

“We’re not like him. We’ve never been like him,” Gabe stated. “But you?”

Rosie sucked in a sharp breath when she realized Gabe was staring directly at Devlin.

“What the hell, Dev?” Gabe continued. “You did do it.”

“Come on,” Lucian said, shaking his head. “That’s not exactly surprising.”

“Maybe not to you,” Gabe shot back.

Devlin didn’t jump in. The whole time he stood there, taking it. Taking it all like he always had.

“Like you didn’t have your suspicions,” Lucian countered.

“I did, but I at least had hope that I was wrong.” Gabe’s jaw hardened. “Call me an optimistic fool for wanting to believe he wasn’t capable of that.”

“Believe he wasn’t capable of what?” Lucian inched forward on the couch. “You know damn well we are not any better when it comes to that.”

Julia opened her mouth.

“Emma,” Lucian said, and Gabe drew back at the mention of the mother of his child. “Can you really say what we did was any different than what Dev did?”

“I had to do something,” Dev finally said. “You know going to the police wouldn’t have stopped Lawrence. Half of them were involved and he would’ve paid off the rest or they would’ve ended up dead. You don’t understand—”

“No, you’re right. We don’t understand.” Gabe rose. “You never told us any of this. Not once did you tell us what they were involved in. What they were doing.”

“I didn’t want you to know!” A crack showed in Devlin’s composure, surprising both brothers and Julia. But not Rosie. This—all of this—was a long time brewing. Devlin stepped around Rosie. “Would it have made your life better or easier knowing that the man who raised you and his brother were selling humans? Trafficking women and children? Little girls?”

Julia covered her mouth with her hand.

“Would it have helped you sleep better at night knowing that half of those people were sold against their will or were tricked into believing they were leaving their families for a better life? Or that the other half were murdered? Did you want to know that?” Devlin demanded.

Neither brother answered.

“I didn’t think so. Because I know what happens once you learn about that. You start doing research. You start learning what they do to people, how they drug them and threaten them to get them to do what they want.” Devlin’s shoulders stiffened. “You won’t sleep very much once you know. So, excuse the fuck out of me for trying to save both of you from that.”

Gabe thrust his hand through his hair. “But we’re family. You shouldn’t have had to do this by yourself—know this by yourself. How could you not know that as much as it would’ve fucked us up, we would’ve been there to shoulder that with you?”

“We didn’t even know that he almost killed you,” Lucian said, drawing Devlin’s attention. “Shit. Richard had to know about that. Livie, too?”

“They knew I was hurt,” Devlin said after a moment. “It was Besson who found me unconscious. He gave me CPR, but neither he nor his wife knew how it happened.”

“And you never said anything?” Gabe lifted his hands. “And what you knew about Sabrina? You knew—”

“I was trying to protect you,” Devlin cut in, and Rosie’s breath caught. Was he going to tell him about Sabrina? “I was trying to protect both of you.”

It took great effort for Rosie to not speak up at that point, because this was something Devlin needed to say, needed to get off his chest.

“Just like you were trying to protect us from knowing we had another brother?” Lucian demanded, and Julia slowly lowered her hand to her knee. “Is that why you never told us?”

A muscle flexed along Devlin’s jaw. “I didn’t know until the past spring that he even existed.”

“That was nearly six months ago!” Gabe exploded.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Devlin returned. “And he didn’t want it known. Jesus. He’d just found out that he’d been adopted and that he was related to us. I didn’t plan—”

“On ever telling us?” Lucian asked.

“No,” snapped Devlin. “We both planned on telling you when he was ready.”

Gabe shook his head as he started to turn away and then he spun back to Devlin. “His name is Payton. I just learned that tonight. You had months knowing that Lawrence . . . that he sent him away out of spite. Lied to our mother, because he . . . he could.”

“He was a monster,” Julia whispered, placing her hand on Lucian’s thigh. “And I am glad he is dead for real now.”

Rosie had to agree with her. Might make her a terrible person, but that man and his brother were pure evil with a human face.

“You should’ve told us,” Gabe said, turning and walking toward the fireplace. He placed his hand on the mantel. His head bowed. “I don’t even . . . Jesus, Dev. I don’t even know who you are.”

Pressure clamped down on Rosie’s chest as Devlin stepped back. She twisted toward him, but he was already walking out of the room and he was gone before she could say a word.

Unbelievable.

That was all Rosie could think as she slowly turned back to the brothers. She’d just learned some crazy stuff herself and before what had happened . . . just happened, she wasn’t sure where she stood with Devlin.

Now she knew.

She didn’t look at Julia when she spoke. She looked straight at them. “You guys are clueless. Seriously. Fucking clueless.”

Lucian’s gaze snapped to her. “Rosie—”

“No. Everything he’s ever done has been because of you all. What he’s become has been because of both of you. You have no idea.”

“We wanted to know.” Gabe pushed away from the fireplace. “He kept us in the dark.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Rosie’s voice shook with anger. “He didn’t keep you in the dark. He kept both of you in the light.”

Lucian’s entire body seemed to jerk in response to that.

“He put up with a psychotic woman who was obsessed with you to protect you. She knew everything and if it weren’t for Devlin, she would’ve held that over your head. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be with Nikki right now. You’d be saddled with that woman,” she said to Gabe before swinging toward Lucian. Anger pumped through her veins. “And you remember that funny story you told me about the three of you at school? How Devlin got busted for you all breaking curfew? What is really funny about all of that is Lawrence beat him so badly after that, his body still bares the proof. You didn’t know that, did you? Have either of you seen his back?”

Both brothers had gone silent as tears crowded her throat. “Have either of you ever seen the scars? All over his back? I’m guessing you haven’t. And I’m guessing neither of you pulled your heads out of your asses long enough to even wonder why Devlin is the way he is or to realize that while both of you were out there living your lives and doing whatever the fuck you all wanted to do, he was trapped with those monsters. So, no. He didn’t keep you in the dark. He kept you all in the light. Think about that while you’re dragging him through the mud he’s been living in for years.”

Rosie didn’t wait for them to respond, she left the room and started looking for Devlin. She found him standing in the foyer, under the gold chandelier. He was staring up the grand staircase.

“This . . . this fucking house,” he said as she walked up to him. Her gaze followed his, but she didn’t see anything. That didn’t stop the goose bumps from spreading across her skin when he said, “This house is haunted by the dead and the living. I wish I never brought you here.”

“Devlin. . . .” She touched his arm, but he didn’t look down at her. “Are you okay?”

He laughed.

“I know that’s a dumb question.”

“It’s not, but you shouldn’t be asking me that.”

“Your brothers—”

“They have every right to be mad. I did lie to them.”

“No.” Her grip on his arm tightened. “You protected them. You gave them their lives while sacrificing your own. Yeah, they get to be mad, but they also need to get the fuck over it. Which I pretty much just told them. So, hopefully you don’t get too mad at me over that.”

Devlin turned to her then, his eyes wide with surprise. “You did . . . what?”

“Um, well, I did basically tell them to pull their heads out of their asses. I said other things, but um, yeah, that’s the gist of it.”

He stared down at her.

She started to get a little worried. “They needed to know what you’ve done for them. They—”

“Thank you.” Devlin’s head swept down and he kissed her. “No one . . . has done that. Stood up for me. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I did it because I—”

“Don’t,” he said quietly, as if he sensed what she was going to say. He kissed her again, softly at first, but the touch of his mouth quickly deepened. The kiss turned fierce, desperate even, and when he finally lifted his mouth from hers, she was shaken and felt . . . felt a little like the end. “What I need from you is to just go home. Okay? You were never here.”

“What? I thought everything was taken care of?”

“It is, but just in case. There’s something I need to do.”

He held on to her cheeks, his gaze pleading. “All right? I just need you to leave. I’ll be in touch. I promise.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“But I need to do this alone and I need you to leave.”

“Do what?” she asked.

He turned from her and stared up at the staircase. “I think it’s time to rid this land of those ghosts.”

“Then I’m your girl. I’m—”

“Not those kinds of ghosts, Rosie.” He made his way to the stairs. “Please go. This is something I need to do myself.”

A different kind of anxiety blossomed to life.

Blinking back tears, she felt herself nod and she heard herself say yes, but she reached for him, coming up with nothing but air.

“What I said was true.” Devlin’s gaze met hers. “I love you, Rosie. I know it seems impossible, but it’s real.”

“Devlin—”

He’d already started up the stairs, and Rosie heard the door swing open behind her. She spun, expecting to see someone, but no one was there. Just her and the wind, stirring the ivy.

Dev was a murderer.

He’d long since accepted that.

He’d killed Stefan thinking it was Lawrence. He’d ordered the death of the police chief who covered up Lawrence’s crimes.

Dev had killed.

He didn’t and wouldn’t regret what he’d done, and maybe that spoke of the darkness in his soul—he didn’t know and he didn’t care.

Earlier that night, he’d been ready to turn himself in. Now he was ready to do what should’ve been done decades ago.

His brothers were gone when he returned downstairs, bag in hand. He placed the black duffel bag by the front door and then he picked up the can he’d retrieved from the garage. He wasn’t all that surprised. Instinct told him that Gabe had gone to Nikki, and Lucian and Julia were together, safe and far from here.

Would they forgive him? Understand?

He took in the intricate woodwork Gabe had crafted with his own hands and the arched doorways as he moved through the house. There were no photos, just the morbid yet beautiful paintings rendered by his brother’s and sister’s fingers. He stopped at his office and thought about the irony of paying off the medical examiner. If he hadn’t, the coroner would’ve surely discovered that it wasn’t Lawrence’s body wheeled into the morgue, but Stefan’s.

Both men had been complicit in some of the most atrocious crimes out there. Both men had been not only a curse upon this land and home but everyone they came into contact with.

His steps echoed through the silent, dark third-floor hallway as he passed the bedroom of his mother, who had been just as trapped as he’d been. He walked past Lawrence’s private quarters and tasted the bitter fear that always consumed him as a child and the red-hot hatred that had festered from that. He made his way through the second floor, throwing open all the doors as he went, remembering Nikki as a child, running through the halls, and then he stopped, and he could recall him and Pearl doing the same.

A tickle danced across the back of his neck, and he swore he heard the faint sound of a man laughing.

Dev started walking, slowly, meticulously making his way downstairs. He stopped at the back window, the one that overlooked the rose garden and the pool.

And he saw his sister, not facedown in the pool but standing by it staring up at the window, her pale blond hair blowing in the wind. Maybe it was just a memory. Or it was a ghost. Maybe he’d lost his fucking mind, but he saw her, and in those quiet moments, he heard his mother whisper thank you.

Maybe they’d all be freed now.

Dev returned to the foyer and breathed in the pungent scent of gasoline as he picked up his duffel bag. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a lighter he’d found in the pantry. His thumb rolled over it. It clicked and a flame sparked to life.

The walls of the house were like the scars on his back, the floors like the bones Lawrence had tried to break over and over, and everything inside of the house was nothing but tainted meat and torn muscle, stretched too far.

And it was all going to burn.