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One month later…
The winter air whips against my frost-reddened cheeks, and I clench the bundle of white lilies tighter in my fist, fighting a shiver. The granite slab at my feet is a simple cut with an even simpler inscription on its face.
Wesley B. Crenshaw. Friend. Brother.
Tears prick the corner of my eyes as I place the flowers on the yellowed grass, the weight of Kain’s stare growing with my every movement. He won’t say it out loud, but I know he’s thankful I dragged him out to Moriton Cemetery today. Grateful for the outlet to mourn.
I turn my head slightly, taking in Kain’s posture, that unnatural rigidness of his spine as he stares at the gravesite. I know he’s thinking about that day, about every single one since. All the choices he’s had to make, the responsibility that now weighs on his shoulders.
The responsibilities of the king of not one but two powerful criminal organizations.
As soon as his injuries allowed him to walk, Landon and Carlotta were in contact, informing him of the mess the two clubs were in. The very next day, Kain started his new duty as leader, allowing himself to be dragged into meetings, ceremonies, and whatever was needed. He had no choice—everyone of power in the clubs had been disposed of, and if he had turned away… far worse people than Callum would have taken charge.
I take in Kain’s torso, the thick black sweater covering the fresh pink scars. His physical wounds have all but healed from that horrible day, but I know the scars on his mind will linger. I’m not sure what it does to a person—being forced to kill someone you love—but I imagine it sticks with you forever.
Maybe it’s good that he’s been so busy, unable to think about Bear. Good that his new duties have kept him so preoccupied, he hasn’t had the luxury to mourn his fallen friend.
“I miss him.”
I jump at Kain’s voice, so unnaturally raw and… broken. I grab his hand, giving that calloused palm a light squeeze to let him know I’m here. That it’s safe to feel.
“I know you do.”
His fingers tighten around mine, and he gives a barely perceptible smile. “You know he used to let the other kids beat on him?”
My brows hit my hairline. “Bear? No way.”
“Yes way.” Kain lets loose a small chuckle and shakes his head. “He used to be so… good. Better than the rest of us. He could have snapped those kids’ scrawny necks, but… he didn’t want to. He wanted to be different from the life he was forced into.” His free hand reaches up slowly, peeling the mask from his face. Out of respect for his fallen friend. Of who he was before the world turned him. “I should have seen it—the change in him. I should have done something.”
“There was nothing you could have done,” I whisper, leaning my cheek against his arms. “At some point… you have to realize your actions don’t have the power to change someone. Not really. Not even if you love them with all you have. He was going to choose that path no matter what you did—and maybe it was because he was so gentle and willingly took all that responsibility onto his shoulders. Maybe it was too much for one person. But it wasn’t your fault.”
I look up at Kain only to find he’s been staring at me the whole time. A small, sad smile tilts the harsh plane of his mouth, and my breath catches at how devastating he looks.
“You’re too good for me, Lillith,” he murmurs. “Too good for this world.”
I give him a small smile. “If you’re still trying to get rid of me, you might as well give up. I’m not going anywhere.”
A flash of teeth, then Kain leads me out of the cemetery, back down the stone path toward his motorcycle. There’s nothing but the gentle scuff of our shoes against the rain-soaked gravel to fill the silence, but it doesn’t feel strange or uncomfortable.
When we finally make it to the bike, I turn to Kain, tugging on his hand to get his attention. His brows knit as he faces me, a kernel of worry in that silver eye.
But when I throw my arms around his neck, his face relaxes, and he leans down to brush his lips against my forehead. Gently. So gently.
“Thank you,” he breathes, tightening his arms around my waist. “Thank you for being here. For being you.”
“I love you,” I reply. “I love you.”
“And I, you, little flower.” He leans down and brushes his lips against mine. “Endlessly. Hopelessly. Devastatingly.”
His palms slide under my ass, and he uses the leverage to lift me up onto the seat of the motorcycle. I let out a little squeal against his mouth, which he returns with a devious chuckle. “As much as I love kissing you in a cemetery, I have better plans for us at home.”
Home. My heart sighs, swelling two sizes too large for my chest. Then the innuendo Kain so heavily implied becomes apparent, adding color to my already pink cheeks.
“Okay,” I whisper, pressing my lips to his jaw. A small shudder runs through his body as I say, “Let’s go home.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
KAIN
