“I didn’t know it was her family for sure until recently. I’m superhuman, but not enough to locate the right guard who’ll sing when his mouth is shoved full of money. I did try to warn you. Not my fault nobody listens to Lan, even when he’s always right.”
I drive my fist into his face again. “You should’ve told me.” Punch. “You chose to use me instead.” Punch. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Blood explodes from his nose and the corner of his lip and he spits it on the carpet, but he doesn’t attempt to fight me. He’s letting me use him as my relief outlet.
“Would it have changed anything?” He grins, revealing blood-stained teeth. “You’re so into that mafia princess that you can’t see straight anymore, Cray Cray. I bet you’re more upset about your relationship with her than about the truth you so earnestly searched for all these years. I must admit, I liked you better when you were an emotionless little heathen.”
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll turn you into one of your stones and no one will be the wiser.” Eli comes to my side, glaring down at him. “I’m letting Creigh vent his rage or else he’ll explode, but don’t mistake my tolerance for forgiveness, Lan. I’ll fucking end you for stabbing him in the back. So how about you take his punishment silently, because no matter how hard it gets, it’ll be way more lenient than my outrage.”
Landon flips my brother the middle finger, then smiles at me. “Everything I did was for the greater good, including yours. I know that’s uncommon, but you have my word. I did prepare a peace offering if you’re interested—”
I send him flying with another punch, and he grunts, wiping the corner of his mouth and flexing his jaw. “I’ll take that as a no?”
My steps are sure and determined as I reach for him, haul him up by my grip on his shirt, then hit him again.
And again.
And fucking again.
But no matter how many punches I throw, it isn’t enough to douse the fire inside me. If anything, it’s transforming into a wildfire that’s getting out of control.
“What’s with all the commotion—what the…” Brandon’s voice reaches me first and I can tell he’s coming our way, but Eli grabs him by the nape.
“This isn’t your place.”
“What the actual hell? Lan’s bleeding.”
“Aw. You worried about me? I should’ve asked Creigh to beat me up earlier.” Landon strains to place a hand on his chest. “So touched, I could cry.”
Bran glares at him, but he still tries to escape Eli’s hold. Me, on the other hand? I’m ready to rip my cousin a new one.
In the middle of me punching Lan, who’s still not resisting, and Bran arguing with Eli but still no match to escape him, a fifth presence strolls in.
Remi stares at us with dilated pupils, then blinks slowly. “Not sure what type of freak show—or kink, not shaming—you King men are into, but I have a serious question. Am I too drunk or is there actually a guy tied up in our basement?”
Bran quits struggling against my brother. “A guy is tied up in our basement?”
“Sure as fuck, and if I’m not too drunk, then I’m pretty sure it’s Nikolai Sokolov.”
“That’s the surprise I kept for you, Cray Cray.” Landon grins, all bloodied teeth, lips, and chin. “He’s your path to vengeance. Told you I had everything figured out.”
27
LIA
The thing about demons is that they’re there for life.
Every time I think I’ve left them in the twisted past where they belong, they rear their ugly heads, bent on reminding me that they exist.
That they’re here to stay.
That no matter how much I attempt to focus on my hard-earned happiness, it might be just a phase.
It’s been so many years, but the memories are as vivid as if it were last night’s dinner.
They creak and roar and splash my mind with images of pain, weakness, and shame.
Lots of shame and regrets that I can’t contain.
I pace the length of the entrance, back and forth, back and forth, like a headless chicken.
I can hear the low sound of my snapping nerves, can feel the tightness in my stomach and the chaos bashing against my skull.
On and on, it mounts and shifts until I want to scream.
It doesn’t help that Adrian had an urgent meeting and has been gone with Kolya for most of the night and morning.
Thankfully, Yan has returned. He’s currently leaning back in a chair, sipping on a glass of vodka, and watching me with an unchanged expression.