Chapter 142 Ian

Chapter 142 Ian
Liam/Ian
For weeks, Sienna went completely off the grid. Not a single update, not a text, nothing to tell me where she was or if she was even breathing. So when my phone finally lit up with her name, the last thing I expected was for her to tell me she was here in Bendis.
And that she brought my brother with her.
Shock didn't even cover it. I was furious. But deep down beneath the suffocating pride, I knew the truth. It was about time. Nineteen years of running from a ghost had to end eventually.
I made my way to the park we agreed on, the afternoon heat sticking to my skin while my mind raced through every dark memory I’d spent two decades trying to bury.
Then I saw him.
Sebastian was sitting alone on a wooden bench, his frame hunched slightly forward, his head bowed as he stared fixedly at his boots.
I stepped up, stopping directly in front of him.
When he finally lifted his head, recognition flashed across his eyes, followed immediately by an intense, overwhelming sense of relief.
“Ian,” he said, his voice rough as he swallowed hard. “You look well.”
I held his gaze, keeping my face entirely blank. “And you look like you’re about to shit your pants.”
A quiet, nervous laugh broke from his chest. “I believe I do look like that.”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth despite the tension locking my shoulders. He still spoke with that formal weight peculiar to Regalia. Meanwhile, nineteen years in the streets of Bendis had completely stripped me of every bit of that upper-class posture.
“We need a fucking drink for this,” I said flatly.
I turned and walked toward a low-key pub a block away from the park. We walked inside, bypassing the scattered tables, and took two high stools near the end of the dark wooden bar.
“Just a beer for me,” I told the bartender.
“I will have the same.”
The bartender slid two sweat-beaded, ice-cold bottles across the counter. I popped the cap, took a deep, heavy swig, and let out a harsh sigh.
“It’s been a long time, Sebastian.”
“It has been,” he replied quietly, his fingers tracing the rim of his bottle without drinking. “And there are many things I wish to say to you.”
“Then spill it.”
Sebastian stared down at the amber glass, his hand hovering over the bottle as if trying to ground himself. “First... I would like you to know what transpired with our mother. After I killed Dylan when you fled.”
My grip on my bottle tightened until my knuckles turned white. My eyes widened, a sudden spike of adrenaline burning through my bloodstream at the casual admission. He killed Dylan. 
But I didn't interrupt. I just listened.
In a measured voice, Sebastian laid out the absolute ruins of the life I’d left behind. He told me how our mother vanished into the shadows after Dylan’s death, completely consumed by her own madness. He told me how the trauma and the poison of those years eroded him from the inside out, turning him into a cold, merciless monster he barely recognized in the mirror.
He told me about the moment Sienna stepped into his broken world, and the brutal lengths he went to in order to keep her alive. He spoke of the war that followed, the blood spilled on Regalia’s borders, and how they finally put Ophelia behind a locked room.
With every single revelation, I couldn't control my face. I couldn't mask the shock tearing through me. My jaw stayed clenched.
My hand began to tremble slightly against the glass—the beer was warm now, completely ruined in my palm.
I slammed the bottle down on the wood and caught the bartender’s eye. “Give me a whiskey. Neat.”
The glass clinked against the counter. I grabbed it and downed the burn in a single, hard gulp, letting the alcohol sear its way down my throat.
“Fuck,” I choked out.
I didn't know a single damn thing. All these years, I thought I was the only one who suffered. I left Regalia believing he had willingly surrendered to Dylan’s poison, just as our mother had. I left him behind in that house without ever stopping to ask what he was enduring while I ran.
Was that how a brother was supposed to act?
I knew the answer, and it burned worse than the liquor in my stomach.
Sebastian sat in silence, waiting for me to process the horror. I signaled the bartender for another shot. Then a third. I slammed them both back, my head spinning, but the realization in my gut wouldn't numb out. I still had no idea what to say to the man sitting beside me.
“I’m sorry,” I choked out, a dry, bitter laugh tearing out of my chest. I slammed my elbow onto the bar and buried my face in my palms. I forced myself to sit up straight, staring at him. “What a shitty thing to say after everything you just laid on me, right?”
Sebastian turned his head. “I should be the one apologizing to you, Ian. I failed to be the older brother I believed I was.”
I barked out a harsh, disbelieving laugh, staring right at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He flinched slightly, taken aback by the aggression in my tone.
“We’re brothers, Sebastian,” I said, my voice rising. “We were supposed to carry those heavy burdens together! But you never fucking let me! You’ve always been like this—so obsessively protective that you worry about everyone else’s survival before you even give a shit about your own. And I fucking despise you for that.”
I paused, breathing heavily, the edge in my voice softening as I looked past him, out the tinted glass of the pub window at the ordinary people walking down the sunny Bendis sidewalk.
“But at the same time... now that I’m sitting here looking at you... I don't think there’s a greater brother than one who protects like that,” I murmured quietly. “I wouldn't be standing here living a peaceful life if it wasn't for your sacrifice. I had peace here in this city, Sebastian.”
I turned my head back.
“While you had absolute hell.”
Sebastian looked down at his hands. “Every sacrifice was intended to bring us to this exact moment,” he said in a voice that was hopeful. “There was nothing I desired more than to rebuild Regalia into the home it was before Dylan—before our mother’s madness destroyed it. I rebuilt it for you, Ian. I wish for it to be your home once again.”
An ache settled over my chest. I looked at the man who had burned his own youth. I appreciated every bloody step he took to slaughter our ghosts. I hated myself for not being there to bleed beside him.
But as I looked around the warm, familiar air of the pub, I knew the truth.
I shook my head slowly, offering my brother a steady look.
“Thank you, Sebastian. Truly,” I said softly. “But this is my home now.”