Arnold fought back the urge to growl at the woman as she commented on how he was holding the infant, and adjusted his arm to offer Weldon’s head better support. With a nod of approval, she left the room. “Can you believe the gall?” he whispered. “Like I don’t know how to hold you; like you’re some fragile bundle. You’re an Orr. You’re tough. You all are.” The large room contained the eight cribs with their sons. One of them was his, but not Weldon. The infant in his arms mewed and the sound was music, each note on key. “You’re Aiden’s no doubt about it. I hope you’re going to love using your voice, because he’s already got each one of you slotted in his brand new boy band. The Golden Boys, if you can imagine. So, do you know which of your brothers’ mine? Would you tell me, of have you to taken an oath of secrecy. Arthur p—” Arnold swallowed the pain down. He’d moved to the house they kept their sons after a reporter smuggled himself in his hiding spot. The man had no idea what he’d gotten himself into, inserting himself among the men who replaced the group Arnold had fucked to exhaustion. Arnold hadn’t need kind on the man when he protested. He’d influenced him, fucked him until he stopped begging for more, influenced him again and left him whining as he fucked every other men. He’d called Alex to come take him away without fucking him. Maybe his brother had taken pity on him, or not. As far as Arnold was concern the man could spend the rest of his life trying to get the need fucked out of him. Arnold had protested the move. Yes, his hidden house was compromised, but move in with their sons? He’d been certain they would tear away any control he had left. Instead, wanting to spare them his misery had given him the strength to bury most of his pain. The women hates that he’d brought his entourage with him, but they were employees, not the kids mothers, so they could learn to live with it, or be replaced. When the pain passed, he had no choice but to consider it; one of the boys was Arthur’s. One of them would forever be denied his heritage. One of them you grow up normal. He wondered if it would be better to break their oath not to do a genetic test on them and find out which one was Arthur’s. It might be best for the boy to be raised by another family, one where he would fit in, instead of being around boys empowered by their god. But wouldn’t this be the ultimate betrayal? To cast out Arthur’s son just because he’d be different, inferior? “Didn’t I promise myself we’d be a different family?” he asked the sleeping Weldon. Didn’t that start by accepting his sons for who they were, flaws and all? Wouldn’t making sure the weakest of them felt just as powerful be his ultimate test? Could he even do it? He carried Weldon back to his crib, and picked up Winfred. The largest of the boys. “You’re either mine, or Aaron’s.” He whispered as he sat, making sure to properly cradle the infant, who slept through the motion. “So, are you oblivious to what’s happening around you? Or just so confident in your strength you aren’t bothered? We both know which one is from me, don’t we.” The door opens and a llama looked in. “Sir?” she whispered, “it’s time for them to be fed.” Arnold motioned for her to bring them in. Eight tigresses entered, topless, their breasts heavy. They weren’t the mothers. Like every generation before, the mothers had been sent away as soon as the doctor confirmed the boys didn’t need them anymore. Unlike previous generations, he and his brothers had paid them handsomely for their contributions. With a little wisdom on their parts, they could live a humble life without worrying about work. The tigress who took Winfred from him was a professional milk nurse, for those families who insisted in breastfeeding, but couldn’t do it themselves. Their contract swore them to secrecy on the location of the house. And Arnold did his best not to think about what he’d do if one of them talked. The Llama returned. “Sir, there’s someone to see you.” “Who?” his brothers wouldn’t wait to be announced, and no one else should know he was here. “A mister Ithaca.” Arnold was out of the room. What was Simon doing here? He should be resting at home. The siamese cat was in a chair, doing his best to ignore the naked men moving through the room crutches leaned against the wall. This part of the house was his. A reluctant concession from the women caregivers they made after one of them walked in on the orgy. “Arnold, you’ll forgive me if I don’t stand up. Miraculous healing hasn’t reached the point where I’m fully ambulatory yet.” He indicated the crutches. “What are you doing here?” “Still not a fan of the conversational niceties I see.” “Simon, i—” “I know. I’m here to see how you are doing.” “Simon, this isn’t part of your job.” “Actually, it is. I’m still your friend. We check in on each other. You know that one since the nurses mentioned we were over every few days while I was unconscious.” Arnold dropped in a chair. “I don’t want to talk about it.” “That’s fine.” The silence stretched, and Arnold couldn’t help feeling like Simon expected him to ‘unburden’ himself. As if talking about Arthur’s death would do anything but hurt. “How did you find out about this place?” “Ernest told me about it.” “How does he— never mind. I don’t want to know how he found out.” “It might have happened after he slammed your brother face first in the floor.” Arnold stared at the cat. “Ernest beat Aaron in a fight?” how was that even possible? Ernest had training, his military file said he was one of their best, but Aaron had power. He should have won, no matter how good the giraffe was. “I didn’t see it, but everyone was talking about it. Aaron glared at him, then stormed out. If I got it right, your brother tried to fuck him.” “Aaron wouldn’t take no for an answer.” “He got the floor for it.” So Ernest’s immunity wasn’t limited to Arnold influence. Aaron wouldn’t have been gentle in pouring it on the giraffe. What could make a man immune? Ernest had told him he didn’t engage in sex, but Arnold had thought it was a choice. What if the giraffe lacked the sexual hormones? He’s have to ask Arthur if— He fought not to bend over as the memory assaulted him. The sight of his brother dead on the ground. The knowledge his killer had escaped justice. He buried the pain as deep as he could, and finally he could breathe; he could think. Simon was looking at his phone when Arnold opened his eyes. He looked up and put it away, but didn’t comment. Arnold was grateful. “What else as Aaron screwed up?” “Why do you think he screwed up anything?” “He tried to fuck Ernest.” “Who works for you. I’m the only one he knew was off-limits because of all the times the lot of them implied they’d get to do me one day. By the way, I don’t think he believes you only did it once with me.” “He’s Aaron, self-control isn’t big with him, so he doesn’t really get I have plenty.” “As for what he’s doing. He brought in an architect along with a security consultant to redesign the building.” “Wait. Aaron brought in people to help him?” “Yeah. He isn’t letting them run free, but as far as I can tell, he is listening to them. And fucking them too. Your brother doesn’t seem to think there are thing that should be done away from were prospective clients can see.” “If you’ve been to his club, you’ve seen his take on privacy.” “Speaking of club, what’s happening with yours? I talked with some of your employees and they tell me there hasn’t been any work done.” “I don’t know if I’ll rebuild it.” “Isn’t owning a club sort of a tradition in your family?” “So is torturing your sons,” Arnold snapped. “You expect me to do that too?” “Arnold, be serious. They are not the same.” Simon hesitate. “You’re allowed to be happy.” “Don’t you dare.” “I’m dropping it.” Another silence stretched. “Is the transition really permanent?” Simon asked. “Aaron made sure we knew you weren’t coming back.” “He’s welcome to Royal. He’s wanted it ever since we were kids.” “What are you going to do?” “Stay here. Look after our sons. Make sure nothing happens to them.” That I’m not in a position to screw up anyone else’s lives, he couldn’t keep from chastising himself. Simon grabbed the crutches and pushed himself up. “I hope it helps you. I can’t imagine the pain you’re in, but you know how I lost my father, I do know how it can hurt. If you ever want to talk, you have my number, and I can be here anytime you want me to.” Arnold bit back his first reply, and waited until he thought his voice was under his control. “Thank you.” “It’s what friend are for. Remember that Arnold. In times like these it’s easy to think you’re all alone. You aren’t I’m here, in their own screwed up ways, so are your brothers, and they’re in pain too. You are definitely not alone in that. Remember that too.” Simon clumsily opened the door and hobbled out. Simon was wrong. His brothers weren’t in pain. They’d been trained through years of abuse not to care about anyone. Arnold had been the only weak one in that regard. He was the weak link in his family, and it was for the best that he stayed out of any family business.