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“What happened?” I ask. I trust her. I know I can trust her. All those years ago, I still remember the fierce wave of protection she washed over me in that split second she shoved me behind her body.
“Well.” She continues, taking out a cigarette and placing it between her lips. She lights it and exhales the thick cloud of smoke. “Your father lied. He was so blinded by that witch who he thought he could fix her. He took her with you when he ran, and he ran from Kiznitch ever since.”
“Only when we finally caught up to you all,” King growls, but again I don’t look at him. “We found you alive and you being called Dove by your father. You were both called Little Bird, so the nickname didn’t mean shit.” King snatches the bottle off Kohen and takes a long swig. “Figured P was the twin who was killed and you were the survivor. We agreed not to tell Kohen that you were still alive, because of his fragile sanity and his history of violence. We couldn’t risk him losing his shit again when he found out that Dove was, in fact, alive.” He brought his eyes to mine. “I fucking hated you when I saw you for the first time. When I was given my first task, I just wanted to kill you. Why could Dove live while P died?” He tilts his head, his bleak eyes examining me closely. “I hated you, but I had my task.”
“And what was your task?” I ask, and suddenly it feels as though it’s just him and me in this room together. No one else.
His eyes darken, and his mouth kicks up in a deathly smirk that sends chills down my spine. “You.”
“I don’t understand,” I murmur, looking around at everyone who is here. If I’ve done my math correctly, all of the fathers are here, as well as King’s mother, Ashley, Kohen.
King steps forward, his head tilting and a cigarette hanging between his perfect lips. Lips I’ve felt on my body more than I can count. Oh God. He was always right. Even as a child, he was right. He always said that I’d be his last. Even if I wasn’t his first at everything, I sure as fuck would be his last.
He stops when he’s a breath away from me, and I look down at my feet. Converse versus military boots. It couldn’t be more accurate for us. He leans down into my ear and whispers, “We’ll be back, Dovey. I’ll hear you when you speak, I’ll see you where you dance. I’ll always be watching you.”
The glass I was holding falls to the ground, and I hear the smash from behind the ringing of my ears. “You’re The Shadow.”
“You gave me a pet name?” King steps back, assessing me. “That’s cute.”
My elbow veers back and I swing before I can stop myself. Pain ripples through my hand as it connects with his strong jaw.
He laughs, his face not moving. I go to swing again when he catches my hand and grips it so tightly I flinch. “The first one you get for free. The second one will have your ass laid flat out over my knees.”
“Fuck you,” I seethe, yanking my hand out of his grip.
He chuckles. “There she is.”
“Perse,” Keres interrupts. It doesn’t go unnoticed how effortlessly everyone is using my old nickname. Everyone called me Perse, except for King. I was simply P. It was his name and fuck if anyone else thought they were using it. “The reason you were King’s task wasn’t because we wanted to kill you. In fact, the reason why I killed your father was because of his lack of ability to keep you safe. King was the one who pulled the trigger on your mother, for obvious reasons. She was his first kill.”
“You’re the one who killed her?” I ask softly, my eyes connecting with King’s. There’s no denying the connection now. The bond, the absolute raw emotion that we both share. King is mine and I am his, but that doesn’t mean he gets away with every goddamn thing he ever did to me.
Fuck that. I’ll hate him for as long as I want to, and he can fucking deal with it.
“Yeah, P. Yeah, I fuckin’ did.”
I nod, as if thanking him, because I am. The bitch stole my sister. Now her murder that has acted as a nightmare inside my brain suddenly morphs into a dream. Bitch!
I remember that night like it’s a bad dream. I don’t remember seeing who shot her, but I remember the blood. I remember the taste and the loud screams of my mother. Then I remember running. I remember them not chasing me. I thought I got away, but I was so wrong. Some hunters don’t catch you right away; some love to watch you run before they feast on you.
