Tristan holds up his hand to stop me from going any further. “Not yet. It sucks, but if everything plays out as it should, we’ll be able to save Kingston from this, not just temporarily, but permanently. Especially since stepping in right now will make it worse for Kingston later. Abusers don’t like being called out, and Kingston isn’t in a position to stay away yet.”
“What if we’re wrong?” I point out, not sure whether I’m asking about Kingston surviving long enough to be saved, or if he’s innocent enough to deserve saving.
“Then they’re both evil fuckers and deserve everything that’s coming to them,” Tristan assures me. “He won’t kill his son, Marcus. He still has an image to protect.”
“He killed his wife,” I mutter under my breath.
“She couldn’t produce heirs anymore, but Kingston can. She was expendable; he is not. Not yet,” Tristan says cruelly.
I can see it there in his eyes, the distaste of knowing everything he’s said is factual. That the world we live in is twisted up that much, and being reminded how Tristan hates this shit so much, it had him creating masks that are almost impossible to see through when he wears them.
I frown, knowing Tristan’s right before wrapping my arm around Qiang’s shoulders and focusing back on my family.
There are some lingering, disgruntled comments about what just went down, and Tristan’s got Qi pulled up so tight against him that I don’t know how the poor guy is breathing. But I get it; that gross man just revealed another layer of his perversion towards Qi without realizing how much of what he’d said we understood. Not only was he propositioned, but he was also unknowingly watched for years.
Qiang looks like they are holding back tears; there’s no way any of that was easy, especially with the unexpected seedy reveal. I pull them against me and leave a long, lingering kiss at their temple until their body shudders and slightly relaxes against me.
Soon. It’s the only soothing thought I have. Soon, we will have everything we need to pull the trigger and take that evil man down; we’re just waiting for the go-ahead from Cade.
CRASHED PARTY
Marcus’s POV
The house is thumping. This is the first time we’ve ever hosted a party here. It’s not surprising, considering I’m the only one who is really into them. Tristan and Qi tolerate them, and Qiang is into parties in general, but jock-centered ones aren’t really their thing, for obvious reasons. But everyone in the house was down for this one;hell, they even helped spread the word and got things ready with me.
Well, Qiangdidright up until Natasha showed up. She hooked her arm around theirs and tugged them straight towards the stairs with only one backward glance long enough for her to spit her tongue out at me. Qi found the entire exchange highly entertaining, especially my face, since apparently it looked like I sucked down a whole lemon when Qiang’s door closed behind them.
It wasn’t long after that the house filled with guests. The downstairs is now crowded with bodies. Qi, Tristan, and I are currently in the kitchen refilling the drinks station. Tristan hasn’t left Qi’s side since the incident earlier. Hopefully, as the night goes on, we’ll be able to relax more.
Tonight’s supposed to be a celebration. So many good thingshappened today, from waking up with Qiang and officially telling our families about our relationship, to winning my first game as first-string.
Sterling showing his sneering face for ten minutes isn’t worth overshadowing the many wins of today. Especially since Qiang has already been struggling so much today.
It wasn't their best day. I’ve watched the shadows pass through their eyes more than once. I’ve helped reassure them about their doubts regarding me, but I also know that Qi stepped in, along with their family and my parents, regarding their doubts about themself.
I’m not a professional, but I’ve always believed the idea that a single personcuringsomeone’s trauma is bullshit. It takes the strength within the person with the trauma, along with professional help and the affirmation of more people than just one.
As willing as I am to shoulder everything for them, I know now that it was never my place, nor would it be helpful to them in the long run. Knowing they’ve had a tough day, and how many people stepped up to reassure them and be in their corner, means more to me than playing the hero, which, as much as I deny it, I know I have a hero complex, so not tapping into that says a lot right there.
I’m facing the sink, rinsing out a punchbowl so we can reuse it. Tristan is rifling through the cupboards for a snack, and Qi is next to me, with a concoction of juices and tequila to mix into the fresh punch. All of a sudden, Qi lets out a hiss that’s several decibels quieter than the music, movement, and noise of the crowd.
I don’t really know how I hear it, maybe because he’s right next to me, or maybe I’m just tuned into him enough to have felt it more than heard it with how close to me he is. Either way, the noise has me looking up to find an angry expression on his face.
Even though I have caught a few glimpses of Qi’s angry face over the past few months, it’s still rare enough that it has me automatically following his gaze to find what’s pissed him off, and not exactly surprised when I see what he’s looking at, or rather,who.
Kingston stands just inside the doorway, his blue eyes scanning the crowd, and between his already existing ire at me and his dad takinghis bad mood out on him after the game, there’s no reason he’d be here except to cause trouble. And the malevolent gleam in his eyes as he scans the crowd, along with the hard set of his mouth, only furthers my assumption.
Tristan angles his body so Qi is positioned behind him, while Qi squares his shoulders when Kingston spots us and heads in our direction. His eyes bore into mine. He came here forme. The one who, inhismind, stole his position—something his dad most likely cruelly reiterated after the game.
The duality of my feelings towards Kingston messes me up. On the one hand, I despise him for the things that he’s done, for his penchant to take his abuse out on innocent people and do horrible things to them. He humiliated Qiang on an extremely cruel level, and has gone out of his way at least twice since I’ve known Qiang to purposefully rub salt in those old, festering wounds.
In addition to that, after getting more detailed accounts from both Qi and Qiang, I know the man goaded Qi–a kid three years younger than himself–into a fight the night after he outed Qiang. And we can’t forget that he’s a cocky, arrogant, classist little shit.
On the other hand, I can’t imagine what it must feel like to grow up abused and belittled by my own father, like he most likely has been. So there’s a tangible sense of pity and an immense urge to help that gets all twisted with the immediate desire to punch his face in every time I see him.
I may have every intention of giving him a way out of his current hell, but there is no reason to back that up with a hand of friendship. He’s human, so he deserves the first, but he’s too much of a dickhead for the second.
So whenever he’s around, my reactions to him are complicated as fuck. I’ve only really been able to juggle it because I know when everything is said and done, I’ll never have to deal with him again, and that he’ll have a fresh start to hopefully do better and be better than the douche canoe he is now.
