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“Wait!” King’s mom snaps her fingers. “Are you telling me that she’s a Kiznitch, not a little witch?” She exhales. “That still doesn’t defeat the fact that she’s clinically insane and wants to destroy us. She’s a liability. We will make an exception for this once.”
Keres shakes his head, his eyes going to her. “You know good and well how this world spins, Dahlia. Her father who wasn’t Kiznitch blood…” He pauses, and I notice a drastic shift in the room. Why do they keep saying they? “She died, but this one didn’t.”
“This one who?” King demands, but I don’t look at him. I don’t want to. I don’t want to so much as pay him any of my attention. I’m broke, as far as currency spent on Kingston Axton goes.
“Dove, I’m sorry for what happened to you and your father.” Keres walks up to me, shoving his hands into his slacks. “Ash loves you and your sister.” The lines around his eyes deepen.
“’Kay,” I say, but it comes out broken, through cracked dry cement. I can’t wait to meet this Ash, only so I can ask questions. I feel nothing for her emotionally right now.
“Dove,” Kohen murmurs from behind me, and I turn to face him, ignoring everyone in here, especially King.
His eyes laser into mine, and the world slows for a few seconds. He opens his mouth. “Do you still have that burn mark over your hipbone?”
“What?” I ask, confused.
Kohen’s eyes darken as obvious triumph comes over him. “Do you still have that burn mark over your hipbone?”
I lift my shirt, as if I didn’t already know the answer. “No?” I run my thumb over my bare, smooth skin.
The room silences.
Keaton sucks in a breath.
Killian yells, “Fuck!”
“Jesus Christ.” Dahlia massages her temple and takes a seat back on her throne. People are still watching, and the room is caving in. “That could have ended tragically.”
“Why would you ask me that?” My eyes go back to Kohen, who is smirking like a Cheshire Cat.
“Because Dove Hendry was burned Christmas 1998 after she fell against an iron fire pit.”
“No, I wasn’t,” I argue. “I mean, not that I remember. I don’t remember much.”
“You don’t fucking say,” Dahlia groans. “We’re about to lose him,” she whispers, but I don’t miss it.
“No,” Kohen murmurs. “You weren’t burnt. You’re not my wildcat.”
“I don’t follow.” His footsteps come closer, the room smaller.
“Because you’re not Dove Hendry.”
“What!” I snap, annoyed. “Of course I am!”
Kohen shakes his head, his eyes flying over my shoulder and landing on someone else. “No, you ain’t. I would know, because Dove was my girl. You are not her.”
I swing around, finding King standing still, motionless with all of the color drained from his face.
“Elaborate!” I search Kohen’s deceitful eyes.
“You’re Persephone Noctem Hendry, not Dove Noctem Hendry, and you’re not my girl.” Kohen’s eyes flash back over my shoulder, and he points to King. “You’re his.”
I pace back and forth in my father’s office after telling everyone to get the fuck out. Dove—fuck—Persephone is still sitting in the sitting room, this time talking with Keaton and Keres. Her name has always been weird as fuck, but it’s pronounced per-SEF-un-nee. I always called her P.
“There’s no way that’s her,” I mutter, my hands running through my hair. “P is fucking dead. The reason why she’s dead is exactly why I killed her fucking parents!” I glare at my dad. Keres, Kratos, and Kallisto are all in here, as well as Kyrin and Killian.
He exhales, placing a cigar in his mouth. “She doesn’t have that burn mark, son. You were there when Dove got that. It was lethal. She was in the hospital with first-degree burns. That type of scar doesn’t disappear. There’s no other explanation, and besides that,” he tests out, his eyes coming to mine, “your brother knew.”
“And I fucking didn’t?” I argue, my anger bubbling to the surface, because if Kohen knew, why the fuck didn’t I?
“Did you fuck her?” Dad asks, throwing me off slightly.
“Yes,” I seethe.
“So, you fucked her when you thought she was Dove?” He’s judging me now, the smug fuck.
“What can I say?” I add dryly. “I was starving.”
He watches me carefully. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, and Kohen won’t know, but that girl is not Dove Hendry. She is Persephone. Your brother will now have to mourn the fact that Dove has been dead all along, and it was Persephone that was alive.”
My fist flies into the wall, and I feel myself slowly start to lose control, everything crumbling around me. “How can we give her back her memories that Keres took?” I ask, my lip curling as I watch him. I glare at my father. “And Kohen is barely sane. He didn’t even recognize her when she walked in until one of them barked off Little Bird.” Little Bird was what they were both called by everyone. Confusing, but convenient, when no one could tell them apart.
