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“Wait.” Keaton slides in front of me. “You can’t kill her.”
King’s eyes fly straight to Keaton. Was he really going to fucking kill me? Everything I thought I knew about King was a lie. A motherfucking LIE.
“You’re a liar,” I whisper before I can choke on the words. I search the prim marble floor for answers I know I’ll never get, but anger bubbles beneath my skin anyway. “Everything you ever told me was a lie!” I yell toward King, who stares right at me.
He smirks. “Was it?”
“Fuck you!” I scream and fall to the ground. My hands cover my face as I begin to rock back and forth.
“You can’t kill her,” Keaton presses, but I’m still momentarily lost in my own turmoil. “I know you want to because of an old beef, but you actually can’t.” I knew King was a hard man. I knew he was savage, but I never knew he was soulless.
“And why is that, Keaton? Please, do tell me why I cannot kill someone who belongs to a family that carelessly tried to destroy and expose the brotherhood. A family whose mother was a deranged psychopath and broke multiple laws, and then who further birthed a little girl who recklessly tried to kill my child in his sleep? The deal was that he put her in a home, not run off with them both and hide! Now, my wrath is long since tipped.” King’s father spits sarcastically. “I don’t want to hurt that girl, but what I want and what I stand for are two different things. She has done wrong. She was the wrong child. Nothing like her sister.”
“What happened with Dove and Kohen when they were children wasn’t in Dove’s control. She was not normal. They always played sick little games, wanting to test each other to see how far one can go. Dove was toxic for Kohen, sure, but she didn’t mean to hurt him when she pushed him into the lake. She was still a child, and aside from that, you can’t kill her because—” Keaton mumbles. He must kneel beside me because I can feel his hand come to my arm.
“Since when did the darkest of them all have a heart?” King’s mom says, but it’s too late. I’m dead inside. I’m flat. Numb. Coolness brushes over me and my mouth is slammed shut.
I don’t want to fight. When all you do is fight in life, fight to live, to breathe, to exist, you get tired. I’m tired. Drained. I don’t know why it is that I know King and Kohen, but I’m tired. I wish I could be back at Midnight Mayhem, but then would Delila really help me? Or was she in on this whole thing? I can’t trust anyone.
No one.
“Dove?” Keaton whispers into my ear. “I need you to pay attention.”
I don’t answer. My mouth is sealed closed by my unwillingness to obey. What’s the point of speaking if everything around me is false?
“Keaton,” another man’s voice booms from behind him, but I’m trapped in my thoughts, swimming in my pity.
“Keres,” Kingston’s dad interferes. “Please, let us hear what your son has to say.”
Keaton stands tall, keeping one protective hand on my shoulder.
Inhale the pain, exhale the agony, live another day.
There’s a long pause before his finger squeezes over my shoulder. “She’s my sister.”
“What?” I think that was King’s dad.
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Keaton mutters under his breath. “They have to know about her, or they will kill her.” He must be lying, wanting me to follow his lead in a desperate attempt to save my life. Not sure why. I don’t know why Keaton has been so nice to me, I just bought it down to him not being as dark as he looks. Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe this is all part of their plan. I can’t trust anyone.
“Keres, care to explain this?” Dahlia interferes, and I finally bring my eyes up to her. She’d be beautiful if she wasn’t so hateful. Her long dark hair and almond green eyes. She looks so much like her sons it’s almost frightening. But then you see their dad, and it all makes sense. They get their beauty from her and their manhood from him.
“Stand.” Killian’s hands come around my arm, pulling me up. I obey, leaning into him and not wanting to bring my eyes to anyone. I trust Kill.
“It’s true,” Keaton’s father says, and I turn to face him, wanting to know who this man is who owns such a smooth voice. Like warm hot chocolate on a cold day. He has brown hair that has greys scattering through it and bright blue eyes. His face is muscular, just like Keaton’s.
Nothing like me.
“Her mother hated her,” Keres says to them, but his eyes are addressing me. “They were Klaus and Ash’s love children.”
