Friday, April 3rd at 7:34PM

A light rap on Ren’s door ripped him from his concentration. He pulled a hand away from his forehead and rested it on his desk before it creaked open. Light trickled into the dim safe haven of his room, illuminating the clothes thrown over his bed’s headboard, rumpled comforter spilling from the mattress, and creased posters tacked up along the walls. Bands, video games, comics. Things that had come and gone from his extracurriculars yet stayed up as a reminder of what once was.

“You studying, Lorenzo?”

“Just a bit of homework, Mom.”

She leaned on the doorknob, her mouth quirking up in a small smile. Her heart-shaped face was further softened by the glow of the hallway, haloing her bronze hue. “You were quiet during dinner? Everything okay?” she asked, the lilt of her Italian accent slipping through her words.

“Yeah.” He pushed the tip of his mechanical pencil against the notebook a little too hard, pulling it up at the sound of the lead snapping. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Her smile faltered, causing him to tense as she started inside. A hand ruffled his hair before she pressed her lips to his temple. “Take it easy, okay? Don’t push yourself too hard.”

He huffed out a short, breathy laugh. “Yes, Mom.”

The second the door pulled shut behind her, his phone clattered against the desk with a notification. He sighed, digging the device out from under the scattered graduation preparation papers he’d thought would be fun to flip through now that the end was in sight, only to be left overwhelmed. Did graduating high school really matter at a time like this?

When he unlocked the screen, his eyes flicked from the message to the last sentence of the essay he’d unknowingly jotted down in his notebook:

The clock’s started.

He swore under his breath, dropping the phone and rubbing his eraser over the last line so fast that it almost tore. The sound of lead rattled as the pencil dropped back to the paper, and he gritted his teeth at the catching of his chair’s wheels against the plank flooring.

> What do you want me to do about it? 

>> Need eyes on the two I mentioned earlier. Dealing with another problem.

Forcing back a frustrated noise, he pinned his eyes on the bedroom door and counted. Counted his own passing heartbeats, the footfalls of a heavier presence jogging up the stairs, and the notes to every whistle that echoed in their wake. Ren sent his chair rolling back in his rush to open it, bringing the musical tune to a stop in his brother’s startled retreat to the opposite wall.

“Holy shi—”

“Angelo, I need you to do me a favor,” he said, ignoring the wide-eyed stare and delayed hand rising to his heart since both had been too tangled up in his jacket pockets.

“Can’t you go bother Carmen?” he half-whined with shoulders dropping in exhaustion. “I just got home…”

“Carmen left like fifteen minutes ago.”

A groan.

“Look, I need you to cover for me. I have a friend asking for some help, and their parents aren’t going to be thrilled about it.” Lie. “Plus, I know Mom needs to get up early, and I don’t want to worry her.” Truth.

Angelo bit his lip, glancing down to the end of the hall where a door rested somewhat crooked in its frame. No light poured out from under it. Sighing, he turned his attention back to Ren, running a hand through his mussed near-black hair—near-identical to Ren’s. “Fine, I’ll cover for you—”

“You’re the best,” Ren said with a too-confident smirk, beginning to push the door shut again.

Angelo shoved his foot in the crack, forcing it back open with a stern expression. “Promise you’ll let me know when you get there, when you’re leaving, and when you get back if I’m not downstairs. The last thing I need is for Mom to burst into tears because I let my dumbass little brother wander around and get kidnapped. Not to mention Carmen will probably kick my ass…”

Ren’s smile dropped, slipping into something a little more somber. “I’ll text you. Promise.”

Angelo’s foot slid back, but Ren didn’t bother trying to shut the door this time. He pulled his hoodie off his chair and tugged it over his head in the midst of collecting his phone, wallet, and keys.

“Don’t stay out too late.”

Ren chuckled, shaking his head as the door clicked behind him. “Trust me, I don’t want to be out any later than I need to.”

The stairs creaked with each bouncing step to the living room, ripping the breath from him in what he prayed was a quiet enough escape. He squinted from the waning sunlight’s reflected remnants of the morning rain on his way to the subway.

> Where to?

He pushed out the sides of his phone case with his thumbs, waiting for a reply. Tilting his face to the ceiling, he closed his eyes before letting it drop back to his phone. He tapped against the glass screen, torn away from the smells of piss and body odor assaulting his senses. When he opened his eyes, his map had the address marked, calling him to his destination.

And that’s where the next train was headed.

It dropped him off two blocks away, and by then it was finally dark—both a mercy and a harbinger of dread. His pace slowed at the sight of a sleek, black sedan along the curb ahead, where a woman stepped out with the minor assistance of the driver. She was all tight-smiles with the lingering welcome staff outside the restaurant, far too preoccupied with her awkward gate in high-heels, smoothing down her silver, body-hugging dress, and fussing over her black hair falling from the bun at the base of her neck.

Ren yanked his hood over his head before the driver climbed back in and rolled past, leaving his charge to weave through the lush, fancy tables of French food and people in suits until she reached a man on the far end. Though he was well-dressed, he didn’t wear a tie, leaving his neck exposed with an extra undone button. Same black hair, same dark eyes, that medium-toned skin a shade lighter than the woman’s made evident when he pulled her into a hug. 

All smiles. No kiss. A teasing twinkle in his eyes as he lifted his glass of water to his lips.

Siblings.

Ren continued past the windows, heading toward the crosswalk with his sights set on a coffee shop on the other side of the street. The beep of his thumb covering the sensor didn’t bring him the satisfaction he’d hoped for, causing him to eye his targets with a frown. He bounced on the balls of his feet until the light changed.

A window seat and steaming coffee cup later, he went back to spying, jumping at the rattle of his phone against the wooden tabletop.

>> Sorry. Had to play some hide-and-go-seek. They’re at l’Ivoire.

> Already there. Caught Emmaline on her way in. Elliott was waiting.

>> And?

> Working on it.

He swapped to the notes app, steadying himself as he mentally tuned into the table, typing out whatever flowed into it like the strokes of a brush onto a canvas through a blindfolded artist. But rather than revealing secrets of a tortured soul, he’d gain the musings of conspiring influential elites—at least, he hoped.