In The Afterlight (The Darkest Minds #3)(45)

Liam’s temper finally broke over him. He shoved Cole back against the empty bookshelf behind him and pinned him there with an arm barred across his chest. “Play the hero? You mean what you’ve been doing this whole damn time? Walking around, barking out orders like you have any right to lead these kids. Like you know how they feel or what they’ve been through?”

Cole let out a derisive laugh and for a moment, I really thought he’d tell his brother his secret, if only to throw it all back in Liam’s face. Get the shocked and horrified reaction he’d been afraid of for so long.

“I got it done,” spat Liam. “We weren’t followed, no one ever saw us. I’ve done this a hundred times, in a hell of a lot worse places, and each time I got it done—which I would have told you if you’d treated me like I was capable of doing something besides sitting around with my thumb up my ass, waiting for someone to take care of me!”

He was right. Of anyone here, he had the most experience doing this kind of hit. The security team at East River had kept everyone fed and stocked with medicine and clothes simply by preying on truck shipments along a nearby highway.

“Why are you acting like you actually care?” Liam pressed, his voice edged with frustration. “You ignore my existence for years, going around thinking—”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” Cole snarled, finally throwing him off. “You want to know? Really? I’ll tell you—it was how am I going to tell Mom another one of her kids is dead?”

The words seemed to suck every last trace of air out of the room. The color in Liam’s face drained, and his clenched jaw went utterly slack.

“You made me tell her, remember that? You couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t even leave Claire’s room. I had to go downstairs and stop her, because she was already making her sandwich and getting her lunch bag ready for school.”

I pressed a hand over my mouth; the image was too painful for me to even bring to mind. Liam stumbled back, blindly bumping into the desk. His hand caught the edge of it, and it was enough to keep him upright. I saw his face, stricken, only for a moment. It disappeared again behind his hands. “Sorry—God, I’m sorry, I didn’t think—I just wanted to do something—”

After seeing so many varying shades of his anger, I was surprised to see that Cole could turn his voice and face so frighteningly cold. “The only reason you’re here is because I don’t know where the hell Mom and Harry have holed up, and I can’t ship you straight to them—what?”

Liam had always been an easy read; every thought that passed through his mind at some point or another registered on his face. It had been so easy, even for a damaged girl terrified out of her mind, to trust that what he said, he meant—that when he offered something to you, it was only with the purest intention of wanting to give it to you, no catches, no takebacks, no favors. I used to wonder how painful it would be to have a heart that felt things so deeply, even the most secret of things could never fully be contained.

I just wished like hell he hadn’t looked up at the mention of their parents. Because the moment Cole saw his face, he knew. And so did I.

Liam didn’t tell Cole, I thought, unable to understand it. Liam and Cole had both known their mother and stepfather had assumed fake names, Della and Jim Goodkind, when they went into hiding and left their home in North Carolina, but searching online and through phone books had brought up dead end after dead end. Cole should have been the first person he told after Zu told us how she’d met their mother. Liam should have stood up from the table and gone to find his brother immediately—

“You know!” This time Cole did hit him, the icy demeanor shattering as he landed a blow on Liam’s chin. “You lied to my goddamn face! Where are they?”

“Cut it out!” I shouted. “Stop it, both of you!”

Liam lurched toward him. I saw his arm pull back, the glint in Cole’s eyes, and shot forward. I slid between them just as Liam threw his punch, barely blocking it before it collided with Cole’s stomach. There was a single instant he seemed to strain against it, still struggling to land the hit—and then he came back to himself, to the moment. I saw it happen; the anguish and resentment released with a sharp inhalation and a horrified look. I had to grab a fistful of his shirt to prevent his immediate instinct toward a panicked escape. The other hand was thrown out toward Cole, to warn him off moving.

“Oh my God,” Liam said hoarsely, “why did you—that was so stupid—”

I unclenched my fingers, sliding my hand around to his back as I stepped in close to his side. He was still breathing hard, fighting to keep his emotions from boiling over again. I should have realized how quickly shame would work its way through him. He wasn’t a fighter, not by nature. Dammit—the thought of hurting anyone he cared about would do far more damage to him than Cole’s fist ever could have.

“Liam should be quartermaster,” I said.

Cole crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s—”

“A great idea,” I said. “You’re welcome. He does know where your parents are, and will happily fill you in on the details now.”

“As a trade?” Cole shook his head, giving his brother a dubious look. “Do you even know what a quartermaster is?”

“Of course I do,” Liam said between gritted teeth. “I know you try to forget, but I was part of the League for a few months.”