Chapter Text
1995
“Court, tell him to stop! He’s gonna break his face again!”
“Am not!”
Courtland glanced up from his notebook. He was sitting on a playground bench, homework balanced on one leg with his notes resting beside him, pencil in hand. It wasn’t the most comfortable set-up, but he had to get some work done. The biggest challenge to his productivity, of course, was the sound of his two younger brothers playing in the background.
Colt and Ryland, Ryland and Colt. The two seven year olds may be identical twins, but even a stranger could tell them apart.
Colt was typically covered in dirt and scratches, zooming all over the place. His favorite hobby was doing things that gave Court a heart attack. At the moment, he was launching himself off the swing set at maximum height to see how far he could land, whooping and laughing the whole time. The band-aid plastered across the bridge of his nose was the only sign of any previous failed attempts at his usual endeavors. Every word he said dripped with attitude and every gesture he made was animated with the lack of restraint you could only expect from children. The kid was a ball of energy.
Ryland, on the other hand, was not. He was constantly standing next to Colt which gave people the impression he was soft-spoken and meek. It’s true that he wasn’t the most sociable kid, prone to bouts of anxiety or awkwardness. Once you get to know him though, you realize how lively he was in his own right. He could talk anyone’s ear off if they managed to touch on one of his actual interests.
He was, however, predisposed to nausea. Every time Court took his brothers to the playground, Ryland avoided everything in it. He always made a beeline for the bushes instead, carefully picking up bugs to identify them. At the moment he was gingerly holding some sort of beetle as he approached Court.
“Park rules say we can’t jump off the swings,” Ryland hissed. “Tell him to stop.”
Court paused for a second before glancing at Colt, who was already dashing back to the swings for another round. It did make him uneasy whenever his little brother risked his well-being, and accidents had happened before. While Colt was a thrill seeker, he was not an idiot and he always listened to his big brother. If Court asked him to stop, he would.
But then Colt would get that disappointed look in his eyes that made Court feel like the worst person in the world.
“Hey! Just be careful, buddy!” Court called out.
“I will!” Colt grinned wider and held up a single thumbs-up. Court returned the gesture with a grin of his own.
What could he say, Court was kind of a sucker where his brothers were concerned. Which is why he promptly turned back to Ryland, whom he knew wouldn’t be pleased.
“We’re gonna get in trouble,” said Ryland, frowning.
Court smiled at him and ruffled his hair. “There’s no one around. And if they get mad at us, don’t worry. I’ll sort it out.”
Ryland still looked worried as he glanced at Colt one last time before turning back to his bugs. It was clear he wasn’t really concerned about park rules. He just didn’t want Colt to get hurt because if Colt got hurt he would cry, and when Colt cries Ryland cries too. There were many occasions where Court had to console two sobbing twins, one with an actual injury and the other crying out of solidarity.
Court would never admit it, but seeing his little brothers cry made something ache inside of him too. Sometimes.
He couldn’t bear to see Colt looking broken. He couldn’t bear to see Ryland looking afraid. It was a terrible weakness. Court had to be stronger, had to be a man.
Court thumbed the cigarette burn on his forearm. His mind went blank, wandering somewhere beyond anyone’s reach for a second before he shook himself out of it.
“What bug have ya got there, Ry?” Court asked, trying to distract Ryland from his worries.
Ryland immediately perked up, launching into an excited tirade. “I think this is a bess beetle. You can tell because there’s kind of a horn on the head? The book I read had a fancy name for them, I’ll check it later. It kinda looked like the Archbold to me at first, but that can’t be right because it said those are only found in Lake Wales Ridge.”
“Hey, that’s not too far,” Court said. “Just a four hour drive from here.”
“Beetles can’t drive,” Ryland said matter-of-fact. “So that’s far for them.”
“I wanna drive a beetle!” Colt chimed from the swings.
“We’re talking about the bug, not the car! Jeez, Colt.”
“Oh. Boring.”
“You’re boring.”
Court chuckled quietly. He couldn’t help the surge of fondness he felt for these two. “Hey, tell you what. When I graduate and get a job and make some money, I’ll buy a Volkswagen beetle—” Colt whooped at that as he jumped off mid-swing “—and I’ll drive us to Lake Wales and we can find those little beetles of yours.”
“Really?” Ryland beamed.
“Yeah, why not? We’ll make it a family trip.”
“Hmph. You better get your license first, old man!” Colt teased, moving towards the monkey bars.
“Hey!” Court said. “I’m only 15!”
“And he’s gotta make a lotta money,” Ryland added, completely ignoring Court’s protests.
“Yeah! Our bro is broke.”
“Couldn’t even buy us candy.”
“That Volkswagen is so not happening.”
“We’re gonna end up biking, aren’t we?”
“Or walking!”
“Or worse, hitchhiking.”
“We’ll get kidnapped by a creep!”
“And die.”
“We’re so dead!”
“C’mon, you guys are killin’ me here,” Court laughed, jokingly clutching his chest. When those two got started, they could really get going. “I’ll work on it. Is that a deal?”
“Deal!” two identical voices rang out.
“Now come spot me,” Colt said. Or rather commanded. “I don’t wanna fall.”
Court grinned as he stood. He was secretly relieved even a little daredevil like Colt knew his limits and put safety first. One day he’d have the agility and strength to pull off everything and Court would never be able to keep up. Right now, though, he was needed. “Alright, on my way.”
“Oh wait!” Colt said. “What about your homework?”
“S’ ok,” Court said. “I can do it tonight.”
His stuff lay forgotten on the bench. There would always be later.
At the moment, he was standing by his brother —hanging upside down now because of course he was— while his other brother dove through the bushes again. This was more important.
They never did make that trip to Lake Wales. Barely three months after that day at the park, Court would be gripping a handgun, knuckles white and jaw clenched, covered in the blood of their father.
He would be dragged out by the cops, feet digging into the ground as he begged the medics to tell him if Ryland were still alive. He would lose sight of that unconscious form, then be shoved into the back of a police car.
The harsh voice of a cop saying “Courtland Gentry you have the right to remain silent—” drowned out the sound of Colt pleading “Let him go, he didn’t do anything wrong!”
Then the car door slammed shut, and even that was taken from him.
He didn’t do anything wrong. Court knew that, even as he began dry heaving in the backseat, blood starting to crust on his skin and clothes. Fuck, he would do it again. Between their father or Ryland, the choice was simple.
None of the adults seemed to agree.
Court would spend days in a cramped jail cell not knowing if Ryland ever woke up, then weeks not knowing if the foster system would separate his brothers, then years not knowing if he would ever be allowed to see his family again.
2003
“What do you mean you took his science exam for him?” Court asked incredulously behind the glass plane.
“Well, I mean…” Ryland said. “Don’t get mad, oka—”
“He did!” Colt said proudly. “And I did his PE test for him!”
“The hell? How’d you guys pull that off?”
It was visitation hours at the Florida State Prison, easily Court’s favorite time of the day.
When Court got arrested, Colt and Ryland were only seven years old. Their foster parents at the time hadn’t separated them (thank fuck) but they also didn’t allow them to visit. Something about not wanting them to be influenced by their psychotic murderer brother. It took several transfers before they finally got guardians who allowed them to drop by. By that time, they were 10 and Court, having turned 18, had been transferred out of juvenile detention into a proper jail.
But they’d been visiting regularly since then, making use of every day and every minute of their allotted time.
Court was grateful for it. He knew he was missing a lot—too much—but at least he still got to see them grow up. He got to see their hair darken a bit over the years, going from light blonde to a darker gold, though never quite as dark as Court’s brown hair. He got to see Ryland start wearing glasses by age ten, and hear Colt brag about beating up the bullies who made fun of him for it. (“Good boy,” Court had said).
He got to hear about how Ryland aced every test and even got to take some accelerated classes, and about how Colt won a bunch of medals for the martial arts club he was part of. He was so damn proud of his little brothers and everything they’d achieved.
And now, at 14 years old, they apparently pulled off a very elaborate… cheating heist?
“So, we’re identical, right?” Colt said. “Like, no one can tell us apart.”
“You kidding? I find it easy,” Court joked. “There’s a band-aid on your nose right now.”
Ryland made a face. “His band-aid is what you notice first? Not my glasses?”
“That would be my next clue.”
“Yeah but that’s just clothes and shit,” Colt interrupted. “When we swap stuff, no one can tell us apart. So the period before my science test, we went to the bathroom by the sports field—”
“Because we knew it would be empty at that time—” Ryland added.
“—and we exchanged clothes. He put a bandaid on his nose and I got his glasses, and we went off to each other’s classrooms.”
“It was kinda hard taking the test without my glasses,” Ryland said. “But my eyesight’s not that bad.”
“Yet.”
“Shut up, Colt. I did get a bit dizzy by the end of it.”
“You get dizzy at everything,” Colt snickered.
“Well, I made sure to get some things wrong on purpose because the teacher would’ve gotten suspicious if you got too high.”
“And he still got me an A!”
“Clever guy,” Court said.
Ryland beamed.
“Then,” Colt continued, “when it was time for his PE test, I did all the drills for him. It was a bit hard with glasses on, like looking at the world through a fishbowl or something, but I was still the fastest sprinter.”
“What?” Ryland yelped. “You should’ve ran a bit slower! People will know that’s not me!”
“Oh.” Colt deflated slightly. “Maybe you can just say it was a good day for you?”
“What could I have possibly done to have that good of a day?”
“Steroids?”
“Are you— That’s worse than cheating!”
Court couldn’t help chuckling. These two, he swore. “Hey as long as you guys don’t get caught, okay?”
They quit their bickering and turned back to him.
“Don’t worry. We’re super careful,” Ryland reassured him.
“Yeah, I’m really good at pretending to be him,” Colt said.
“Good,” Court said. “Because you could get expelled if they find out. Don’t ruin your future, okay? Don’t wanna end up like me.”
He meant it as a joke, but it didn’t land. He could see both their faces fall slightly.
“Speaking of…” Colt began carefully.
Ryland shook his head ever so slightly and Colt clammed up.
Court still caught it. Even after all these years and all this distance, he could still catalogue every microexpression on their faces. “Hey, what’s up? You keepin’ something from me?” He tried to keep his voice light-hearted but deep down he felt a twinge of concern. Both of them being anxious couldn’t possibly be good.
“Nah, nothin’ bad,” Colt said. “It’s just, uh… Ryland got called to the guidance counselor’s office last Wednesday?”
“Oh?” Court raised an eyebrow.
“Nothing bad! Basically, his grades are so crazy high and he’s taken enough accelerated classes that he could skip some grades. This genius, right?” Colt nudged Ryland with his elbow, a slightly strained smile on his face. “If he takes the required classes, he could get into college by 16. Apparently there’s already an offer. Real prestigious school. Full scholarship.”
“Hey, that is good news. Great news even!” Court grinned, giving Ryland a thumbs-up.
But Ryland was just staring down at the corner of the glass pane separating them. He didn’t look very happy.
“Something the matter?” Court asked, the bad feeling in his gut beginning to deepen.
“It’s just, uh…” Colt continued, seeing that Ryland wasn’t going to elaborate. “The offer he got is from some university in… California.”
Ah.
Court stared at Ryland, who was still refusing to meet his eye. “And what’s wrong with that? California’s great, everyone wants to live there.”
His youngest brother pursed his lips.
“Colt can go with you, right?” Court said. He glanced at his other brother, who jumped slightly at the mention. “Last I heard, they got high school in California too.”
“Y-yeah,” Colt said. “I’ll be 15 soon so I’m allowed to get a job there, part-time. I heard.”
“Hell yeah. You could even be in a movie!” Court said, gesturing at him. “You got the star power for it.”
Colt grinned, but it was rather weak. Ryland was still not looking at him.
“Hey, buddy,” Court said gently, trying to get Ryland’s attention. “It’s okay to be afraid. That would be a pretty big change. But if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
Ryland scoffed softly. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it?”
“C’mon, man. You know.”
“You gotta tell me, Ry,” Court said. “I can’t read your mind.”
“You!” Ryland finally looked at him with a glare. “You’ll still be here! If we go to California, who’s gonna visit you?”
There it was.
Court already had a feeling that was it, but he wanted them to tell him anyway. Part of him hoped that wasn’t it. That he wasn’t the one holding them back from making the obvious right decision, that he wasn’t keeping them from achieving the lives they deserved.
Another part of him, deep down and selfish, felt happy that they cared about him so much that they weren’t willing to leave him behind. That they thought he was worth staying for.
He felt like an asshole.
Between his feelings and their future, the choice was simple.
“Guys…” Court began as gently as he could. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” Ryland said, face screwing up.
“You can visit me when school goes on break,” Court said. “And on holidays.”
“But those take forever. It won’t be enough.”
“You know this is a really good opportunity for you, right?”
“There’s opportunities in Florida too,” Ryland said. “I can still skip grades and go to college early. We have the option to not leave the state.”
“None of them will be as good as the full-scholarship-prestigious-California-university option.”
“No, but it’s the option that lets us stay with you,” Ryland immediately countered. “Also, if you take cost of living into account, California is expensive as fuck. We’d also have to find new guardians willing to take both of us in. You know how hard that is? Statistically, most siblings get separated in foster care! Do you want that to happen to us?”
“It almost did,” Colt said quietly. “Ry got called for an interview when we were nine. They only wanted him ‘cuz he’s crazy smart. Thought he’d be less of a problem child. I waited for hours.” He made a face, looking down at the table. “At some point I thought ‘this is it, he’s not coming back’.”
Court felt his heart squeeze. They never told him this before.
The thought of Colt curled up alone in a cramped orphanage room, probably tugging on his hair from anxiety, bracing himself to never see Ryland again made him sick. Those bastards.
“I threw a tantrum during that interview so they wouldn’t take me,” Ryland said, steely gaze fixed on Court. “I didn’t leave Colt back then and I’m not leaving you now.”
“We’re really lucky they found us foster parents willing to take us both,” Colt said, looking up imploringly.
“And they actually treat us well,” Ryland said. “What if we transfer and our new guardians are child molesters? Hollywood’s crawling with those types!”
“But—” Court scrambled to butt in, feeling like he was losing the argument. “You won’t be working in Hollywood, you’ll just be normal students—”
“Everyone’s a normal student until they’re not,” Colt said.
“What? What does that even mean?”
“Oh, there’s also earthquakes,” Ryland continued, “and crime, and drugs, and higher car accidents, and wildfires, and serial killers— which by the way, California has a disproportionate amount of, I did my research— and also bears—”
“Bears…” Court said flatly. “C’mon, Ry.”
“It’s a valid concern! We might die. The next time you see us might be in twin-sized coffins, except you won’t even get to see that because they’ll bury us in California!” Ryland crossed his arms with a glare. “Do you want that on your conscience? Huh?”
“Yeah,” Colt crossed his arms too, mimicking him. “Do ya?”
“Jesus,” Court said incredulously. “You don’t feel like you’re jumping the gun here? Why you guys dying in every scenario?”
“I mean, we could also become homeless and starve,” Ryland rolled his eyes. “Would that be more amenable to you, Courtland Gentry?”
Oh, he was pulling out the full government name. He was pissed for real.
“Look… California’s not Gotham. It’s just a normal place! That bad stuff happens everywhere. It’s not like here’s a safe haven.” Court wracked his tiny brain for a list of potentially fatal things in Florida. “There’s gators and hurricanes and college students on spring break.”
“We’ve lived here for 14 years and haven’t died yet,” Ryland said. “It’s tried and tested. But we go to California? Dead dead dead before we can legally drink.”
“Ugh,” Colt groaned. “I don’t wanna die before I can get my license.”
He couldn’t believe this. Court’s grown ass was getting tag-teamed by a couple of 14-year olds. And he was losing? It was ridiculous. So much so that he couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of him.
It was the wrong move.
Anger flashed on Ryland’s face.
He slammed a fist down on the table. “You think this is funny?”
Colt jumped at that, taken by surprise. The cop on standby down the hall turned his head at the sudden outburst.
“This isn’t easy for us, y’know!” Ryland’s voice rose, slamming his fist again.
Court sobered up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way—”
“We’re trying to find a way to keep this family together AND make good lives for ourselves so we can help you get back on your feet when you get out! If you’re just gonna laugh about it then we shouldn’t have told you!”
Anyone who thought Ryland was soft-spoken and meek was a dumbass who didn’t know him at all. This kid had a high tolerance for bullshit, but he had a temper even back then. He could really blow a fuse. Court had unknowingly pushed him to that limit.
Perhaps the stress of the situation had reached a boiling point for a while now. Ryland was highly capable, obviously, but still just a child. This choice was still an enormous burden to be placing on him, whether to stay or leave.
Ryland was trying to make this a unanimous family decision but at the end of the day, no matter how many times he discussed things with Colt or weighed options with Court, the offer was extended to Ryland and Ryland alone. It was his choice to make.
“I’m sorry,” Court said. “Really. I know this is a lot.”
Ryland looked away. “Wish I was dumber,” he said sullenly. “We wouldn’t be having this problem if I wasn’t—”
“Hey,” Court snapped. “Don’t do that. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay? Your brain’s a blessing. Don’t beat yourself up over something that’s not your fault.”
There was a painful silence.
Colt reached out and gently placed a hand on Ryland’s shoulder. “It’s no one’s fault. We’re just… trying to figure things out.”
Court glanced to the side, gathering his thoughts. He had to make them see reason. He could not allow himself to ruin their lives more than he already had.
Court rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You know… moving forward doesn’t mean you’re leaving me behind. I want you to make good lives for yourselves, the lives you deserve.”
There was a pause.
“But we want to stay with you,” Colt said, voice small.
Now both of them were refusing to meet his eyes, staring at opposite corners of the damn glass pane. He could never get over how uncanny it looked when they mirrored each other.
Court sighed. He sat up straighter. “Please look at me?”
He waited until he finally had their attention. Colt studied him with a sort of pained expression on his face. Ryland took a bit longer, but eventually he scoffed and looked at Court with a glare.
“Both of you have such bright futures ahead,” Court said. “Colt. You’re the strongest and most dedicated person I’ve ever met. And the kindest. You’d go to the moon and back for the people you love. Everyone who knows you would do the same for you. You know I would. Whatever you put your mind to, you give it your all and you get it done. You’re brilliant, yeah? Someday I’m gonna brag to everyone about how my little bro is the coolest dude.”
Colt’s lip began to wobble.
Court turned to Ryland. “And Ry? You’re the smartest person ever.”
Ryland scoffed.
“No, I mean it. Ever since you were young, I knew you would change the world.” Court tapped the glass to really emphasize his point. “You’re selfless and funny and braver than you think you are. And you never back down. You push through even when other people think you’re wrong. I admire that about you.”
Ryland’s expression finally broke. He pushed down his glasses, letting them dangle from his face as he rubbed his eyes.
“You are strong,” Court pointed at Colt. “And you,” he turned to Ryland and did the same. “Are brave. I love you guys more than anything. I’m so proud of you. And I’ll be even prouder of the people you’ll become. So please. Please go.”
His brothers begin to cry. This was one way they differed, one way you could easily tell them apart. Colt always stared off into the distance with a hand pressed to his chin as if that might stop the tears. Ryland buried his face in his hands, trying to block the world off.
Court felt a familiar ache in his chest, unable to stand seeing them like this. No matter how many years passed, that hadn’t changed.
He truly was an asshole, wasn’t he?
“Colton and Ryland Grace?” A cop’s voice called out. “Time’s up.”
Ah, yes. They went by ‘Grace’ now, choosing to take their mother’s surname after Court murdered their father. Only Court still went by ‘Gentry’. He could’ve changed it too, but he chose not to. Maybe as a reminder of what he fought for, or maybe because he didn’t want his brothers to be associated with someone as tainted as him.
Ryland wiped his face as he got up, still sniffling. “Sorry, Court… I can’t do it. I just can’t leave you here. I’d never forgive myself. My mind’s made up.”
“Yeah,” Colt said, sounding choked. “I promise this isn’t a whim. We thought about it really hard. We get what you mean about our futures, but… you’re more important.”
Court felt a lump in his throat. These stubborn kids.
“See you later,” Ryland smiled weakly.
“Next week!” Colt said.
Twin smiles waved him goodbye.
They didn’t get to meet the next week. Just a couple days after that, Court got a special visit from a certain Donald Fitzroy. Apparently his record caught that big-shot’s eye. The only person besides his brothers who seemed to agree that killing his father was the right choice.
Fitzroy pulled out the works: elite ops training, CIA, complete turnover of his sentence. Tempting stuff, really, but if he was being honest there was one thing that really convinced him.
“To fully get you off the grid, you’ll be officially reported dead. In a prison riot, personal scuffle, eh. We’ll iron out the details,” Fitzroy said.
His brothers loved him too much to leave him behind.
He had to do it for them.
Court knew this would break them. But they were strong, and they had each other. They could put themselves back together. At least this way, they could move forward. It was for the best.
He accepted the offer.
So Courtland Gentry became Sierra Six.
And on paper, three brothers became two.
Six was promptly taken to some Dark Site to begin years of training. Every day consisted of a rigid schedule filled with conditioning, drills, hand-to-hand combat, firearms handling, and all sorts of special ops training. He finally learned how to drive a car, along with every other vehicle ever invented short of a rocket ship.
He put his blood, sweat, and tears into becoming the perfect killing machine. He didn’t complain when the trainers and other recruits threw him into the walls or on the ground. He didn’t protest even when he was bruised black and blue.
And whenever the pain got too much and he struggled to get back up, Six would bring his thumb to the cigarette burn on his forearm. Everything would go numb. Then he would drag himself back up on his feet.
Wake up, train, fight, sleep. Rinse and repeat.
He didn’t ask how his brothers took the news of his death. He didn’t wanna know. Six was afraid he wouldn’t be able to bear it.
He did ask for one update, though: State of California 2004 enrollment records.
Ryland Grace. BS Molecular, Cell, and Developmental Biology.
Colton Grace. Palo Alto High School.
Six had never felt more proud. He knew he made the right choice.
The first time Six was sent to eliminate a target for a mission, he couldn’t help but compare it to the first time he ever killed.
The man visible on the scope was a munitions dealer and human trafficker. A vile person if there ever were one. So not only had Six been through years of training for the purpose of both physically preparing and mentally desensitizing himself for the task, but he could also rest assured that the target deserved the bullet about to enter his head.
Yet he hesitated for a brief second before pulling the trigger.
Wasn’t it strange how much easier it was for Court Gentry to kill his father than it was for Six to kill a faceless criminal?
That can’t be right, he thought as he slipped into the screaming, panicked crowds. Surely this will get easier the more I do it.
He requested for more missions, taking on an endless workload.
It did get easier. Six took to assassinations better than he took to anything else in his life. It should have been concerning how quickly he became numb in the face of death. Instead, it was a relief. He could lose himself in the routine, approaching every mission with clinical detachment and feeling nothing but professional satisfaction at a job well done. Fitzroy called him a triple threat: no second-guessing, no guilt, and no regrets. In this line of work, having those things would cost you your life.
And Six had good reason to stay alive.
From the start, one of his conditions was to start a trust fund for his brothers in case something happened to him in the field. To ensure their safety, this would require going through all sorts of anonymous channels so the money couldn’t be traced. But Fitzroy pulled his strings, and it got set up eventually. This was good. Six felt at ease knowing his brothers would be taken care of no matter what happened to him.
But like most things in his life, there was a catch. This meant that the only time Colt and Ry would find out he was still alive was the moment he actually died and the money came pouring in. His brothers weren’t stupid. They would figure it out, anonymous or not. It would break them all over again knowing he had been out there the whole time, that it was his choice to abandon them.
They would hate him. Six could not, under any circumstances, allow that to happen. At this moment he only existed in their memories as the big brother they lost too soon. A tragic figure, yes, but not a monster. They already had to deal with being related to one monster, he couldn’t allow himself to be the second. Better stay alive, then.
He put them out of his mind. It was the only way he could push through with everything he was doing.
When Court turned 18, his brothers couldn’t be there because they weren’t allowed to visit him in jail.
When Colt and Ryland turned 18, Court couldn’t be there because all that was left was Six.
They would be horrified at what their brother had become.
No, scratch that. Perhaps this was who he always had been from the beginning. After all, Six remembered how easy it was for him to pull the trigger back then. Most people would hesitate before killing their own father, but all Six remembered was how how right it felt.
‘He didn’t do anything wrong!’ Colt had pleaded with the cops when he murdered their father. His brothers thought he was a hero.
Back then he believed it. Now, not so much. Maybe this was the path he’d been set on even before he opened the drawer and took out that handgun. He was simply too good at spilling blood for it to be anything but inevitable. No one could do the things he did with such ruthlessness if it wasn’t second nature.
At some point, Six had come to know the feel of a gun in his hands better than he did the hands of his family. He had been called ‘Six’ more times than he’d been called ‘Court.’
He couldn’t help but count down the years it would take before he would be out of his brothers’ lives longer than he’d been with them.