Chapter 223
Lynette's POV
I stared at Ethan standing there in that ridiculous red vest, hands chapped raw from the cold, and something twisted hard in my chest.
Not sympathy. I didn't do sympathy.
But this—watching my brother freeze his ass off handing out flyers for minimum wage while pretending everything was fine—this I couldn't ignore.
"How long have you been out here?" I asked again.
"Couple hours." He shrugged, trying to play it off. "It's not bad. Good tips sometimes."
Liar.
Nobody tipped flyer distributors. And even if they did, it wouldn't be enough to cover what Dad lost.
Elara's eyes were wet. She looked like she wanted to say something but the words were stuck in her throat.
Ethan noticed. His fake smile cracked. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm fine."
I felt my jaw tighten.
He wasn't fine. None of us were fine. But he was out here killing himself trying to hold this family together, and I'd had enough.
"Give me those," I said, reaching for the flyers.
Ethan pulled them back. "What? No—"
"Give them to me."
My voice came out flat. Cold. The same tone I'd used in the North when I gave orders that weren't up for debate.
Ethan blinked. His hand loosened on the flyers.
I took them from him and dropped the whole stack in the nearest trash can.
"What are you—" he started.
"We're going home," I said. "Now."
"I already told my boss I'd work until—"
"I don't care what you told your boss." I grabbed his arm. Not rough, but firm enough that he knew I wasn't asking. "You're coming home. We need to talk."
Elara stepped up on his other side, blocking any escape route.
Ethan looked between us, trapped. For a second I thought he might actually try to run.
Then his shoulders sagged.
"Fine," he muttered. "But I'm coming back tomorrow—"
"No," I said. "You're not."
---
The walk home was silent.
Ethan kept his hands shoved in his pockets, jaw clenched tight. Elara walked close to him, shooting worried glances every few steps.
I didn't say anything. Just kept my pace steady and my eyes forward.
When we got to the house, I could see the lights were off in the living room. Mom and Dad weren't home yet. Good. This conversation needed to happen without them hovering.
I pushed open the door and walked straight to the kitchen table. Sat down. Waited.
Ethan hesitated in the doorway.
"Sit," I said.
He sat. Elara took the chair next to him.
I looked at my brother—really looked at him. Dark circles under his eyes. Shoulders hunched like he was carrying a weight he couldn't put down. Hands still red from the cold, trembling slightly as he rubbed them together.
Twenty years old and he looked ten years older.
"I can get you the money," I said.
Ethan's head snapped up. "What?"
"I work for Kael now. I can ask for an advance—three months' salary. That'll cover rent and bills until Dad finds something new."
"No." Ethan's voice was hard. "That's your money. You earned it."
"And you're killing yourself handing out flyers in the freezing cold," I shot back. "Which one of us is being stupid here?"
His jaw clenched. "I'm handling it."
"You're not handling shit." I leaned forward, keeping my voice level. "You're running yourself into the ground and pretending it's fine. It's not fine."
"I'm the oldest—"
"So am I." I cut him off. "I'm Grey family too, Ethan. This isn't just your responsibility."
He stared at me. Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe. Like he'd forgotten I existed as anything other than the kid sister who needed protecting.
"You've spent your whole life taking care of everyone," I said quietly. "Mom, Dad, Elara, me. You don't know how to let anyone help you."
Ethan's hands curled into fists on the table.
I stood up and walked around to his side. Put my hand on his shoulder.
He flinched.
I didn't move. Just kept my hand there, steady and firm.
"Listen to me," I said. "You're not alone anymore. I'm here. And I'm strong enough to carry this with you."
His breathing hitched.
"So stop being a stubborn ass," I continued, "and let me help."
Silence.
Ethan's shoulders started shaking. He pressed his palms against his eyes, hard, like he could physically stop himself from breaking.
Elara reached over and grabbed his hand.
"It's okay," she whispered. "You don't have to do this alone."
Ethan made a choked sound. Not quite a sob, but close.
Then he nodded.
Just once. But it was enough.
"Okay," he said, voice rough. "Okay."
I didn't let go of his shoulder. "And tomorrow, you go back to school."
His head jerked up. "But I already withdrew—"
"I'll handle it," I said. "You focus on your classes. Let me deal with the paperwork."
Ethan opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, then closed it again.
"Tomorrow," I repeated. "You're going back."
He looked at Elara, then back at me. Finally, he nodded again.
"Alright," he whispered. "I'll go back."
---
The next few days fell into a rhythm.
Ethan went back to school. Every afternoon when he came home, he'd drop his bag by the door and give us a rundown of his classes—what he'd learned, what assignments were due, which professors were hardasses.
It was weird, hearing him talk about normal college stuff. But good weird.
Mom and Dad didn't ask too many questions. They could see Ethan was sleeping better, eating more. That was enough for them.
I kept my routine with Kael's pack. Every afternoon I'd head to Pinehollow territory for training.
Drake and the other guards had stopped questioning me. Now when I walked onto the training grounds, they straightened up and waited for orders.
I'd put them through drills—combat formations, reaction time exercises, endurance runs. They followed without complaint.
Sometimes Kael would show up and watch from the edge of the field. He never interrupted, just leaned against a tree with his arms crossed and that unreadable look on his face.
I could feel his eyes on me when I moved. When I demonstrated a takedown or corrected someone's stance.
It wasn't uncomfortable. Just... present.
Like he was cataloging every move I made.
---
The day of the Winter Showcase, I showed up at the school gym early.
The place was already packed. Students filled the bleachers, parents crowded the standing room areas, and the volleyball team was warming up on the court.
I found a seat in the back row. Out of the way. I wasn't here to be seen.
Elara had mentioned she was going to participate in something—some beginner's swimming demonstration. Nothing serious. Just her way of trying something new after being stuck on the sidelines for so long.
The opening ceremony dragged on forever. Principal giving a speech. Education board officials giving speeches. Everyone patting themselves on the back for putting on a "wonderful event."
I tuned it out.
In front of me, I heard a familiar voice.
"I hope Elara's demonstration goes okay!"
Chloe. Elara's best friend. She was sitting two rows down with another girl, practically bouncing in her seat.
The other girl nodded. "She was so nervous about it yesterday. But I think she'll do great."
"She just wants to try something different," Chloe said. "Even if it's just basic stuff."
"Amazing?" A cold, mocking voice cut in.
I looked up.
Sophia was standing in the aisle, arms crossed, but she wasn't looking at Chloe. Her eyes were scanning the crowd—nervous, quick glances like she was checking for someone.
Chloe's expression went flat. "Sophia. Can you not?"
"I'm just saying," Sophia continued, her voice lower than usual, almost a hiss, "a girl who can barely stand up for herself getting in a pool? Sounds dangerous."
"It's just a beginner demonstration," Chloe said tightly. "She'll be fine."
Sophia's jaw tightened. She took a half-step back, still scanning the bleachers. "Will she though? I mean, if something went wrong... if she had an accident in the water..." She paused, swallowed hard. "That would be a lot worse than just fainting in a storage closet."
Her voice cracked slightly on the last word.
Chloe's face drained of color. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Sophia didn't answer. Her eyes finally landed somewhere in the back rows—right where I was sitting.
Our eyes met.
Her face went white. She stumbled backward, nearly tripping over someone's bag.
Then she turned and practically ran down the aisle, disappearing into the crowd.
My entire body went still.
If something went wrong... if she had an accident in the pool...
That wasn't a random comment. That was a threat.
My hands clenched on the edge of the bench.
I stood up and started pushing through the crowd toward the pool area.
People complained as I shoved past them. I didn't care.