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I squeeze the steering wheel. “How… how do you know?” I didn’t even know. The Rebels are a lowline bunch who were connected to one of the families that rebelled against the Kings years and years ago—not even during our lifetime. They’re not a threat to us at all. Their families and anyone connected to them have been slowly dropping off the face of the earth for years now. First I’ve heard of one of them being around—ever.
Stella doesn’t answer for a moment. “Because I know men.”
We all fall silent.
Thick trees pass our windows on the way up the drive, and I park us at the front, cutting the engine. The silence is loud, and the blood had long since set on my hands. Every now and then I get a whiff of metal and my stomach rolls. It’s not that I’m precious about death. Far from it. It’s that I wasn’t prepared.
“Halen,” River whispers, but I don’t know what to tell her or Stella. On top of that, I need to check in on Evie. They’d never hurt her. Priest and Evie were good friends at one point. So close I actually accused them both of sleeping together behind my back. I regret it now, because since that outburst they’ve never been the same with one another.
“You know that you can talk with us.” River’s voice is gentle.
“I know.” The handle is in my hand as I push it open. “We’ll talk later. Go home to your beds and sleep.” I quickly make my way out of the car before they can stop me.
I can count how many times we’ve slept alone over the years, and it’s a total of three.
I swing the front door open onto our family driver, Creed, standing in the foyer.
He uses his thumb to swipe below his lip. “Halen.” He checks over me. “After you shower, discard your clothes outside your room.”
I nod, smiling at him before jogging up the stairs. Right now, my batteries are on low. What I feared was happening with my brother is coming to fruition, and I know I can’t stop him.
Do I want to stop him?
I slip inside my bedroom and shut my door, breathing out a long sigh as soon as I’m in the confinement of something familiar.
Ivory walls, beige furnishings.
I count everything in my head. A California king bed is made directly opposite the door, to the right of that, a small leather sofa and makeup vanity, and to the right again, a marble fitted bathroom that overflows into a two-story loft style closet. There are rows of clothes, and a large jewelry safe that’s built into the center. It wasn’t big enough to house my Fabergé eggs, so they’re displayed in a glass cabinet above my bed. Dad buys me a new one for every birthday.
Twenty. That’s how many I have.
I patter my way into the bathroom, stripping off my shirt and reaching behind myself for my bra.
What the fuck are they playing at?
I mean, sure, we’ve all played a little hide-and-seek through the forest, but murder? So plain in sight? The boys are smart. Way smarter than anyone else I know, so I know that what they did tonight wasn’t a reckless murder because someone decided to kiss me. It had to have something to do with the fact that he was part of the Rebels. But they’re not even one of the three organizations that have tried to challenge us over the years. I—
My hand instinctively moves to my mouth to suppress the bile in my throat.
After steadying my breath, I give up on my bra, leaning over the bathroom sink and squeezing the edge. My head hangs low as I try to block out the noise, and a bead of sweat rolls down the bridge of my nose.
I hadn’t realized how hard I was squeezing my eyes closed until I open them.
A hand grazes the base of my spine and I stiffen. Lifting my head, I meet War’s eyes in the oval mirror. His hair is a mess and all over the place, his neck tattoo obscured by blood. It’s a simple tattoo. The EKC skull logo beneath a city.
We both look like we just stepped off a Tarantino set.
My tongue’s tied.
Words aren’t enough to fill the space that has always been between us. Did we both hold an unspoken rule? Not possible… it couldn’t. He was always clear about how he felt, but then lately…
His knuckles graze my spine as he slowly unclasps my bra.
I wince.
Why is he touching me? And why the fuck is he in my room? All the questions I want to ask him, all of which Idon’t.
I let my bra fall to the sink in front of me as he finds me once again in the mirror. His eyes are weak, his lips glistening as if he’d run his tongue over them one too many times. I lose myself in the abysmal cobalt eyes that are lined by ebony lashes. War is beautiful. Almost too pretty if it wasn’t for the fact that his soul had been touched by the Devil. In another life, he’d definitely be some cheesy Instagram model.
