In Peace Lies Havoc (Midnight Mayhem #1)(83)

I shove him away and run toward my RV, pushing open the door. Tears are streaming down my face when I roll into bed and drift off into a deep sleep.





I’m scrubbing up in my shower the next morning, my head pounding when flashbacks of the night before come pounding through my head. “Oh God.” I massage my temples. The fighting with King, him finding us in the club, the fighting with King. I’m still angry with him, but he doesn’t deserve my words or my wrath.

I turn off the faucet, stepping out in my towel. Dressing in double time, I settle for ripped boyfriend jeans that hang off my waist and show the strip of my G-string and a crop top. Delila called this morning to tell me I have to meet my new recruits and I don’t know why, but I’m nervous. What if they’re not what I want? I can work with anything, but what about their personalities? I have to live with them.

Rushing toward the tent, I ignore the people walking around whispering, probably about mine and King’s explosive argument when we got home last night. I run into the tent.

“Sorry I’m late!” I yell before I look. I pause when I see that The Brothers are all sitting in the chairs. King has his foot up on the back of a chair, his hoodie drawn over his head, shading half of his face.

“Good!” Delila claps her hand. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Hmm.” I smile at her, taking a seat on the ground in front. There are a few people scattered around, but the ones I always find myself drawn to are the four psychos.

I fight it, noticing the three people near Delila.

She points to a small girl with long, dark brown hair, soft, flawless skin, and the brightest blue eyes I have ever seen. She is drop-dead beautiful. “This is Saskia.” The girl bows her head between her shoulders, resting her forehead on her arm.

Delila carries on, pointing to another girl with blonde hair. “That’s Callan.” She’s beautiful too, classically. You can see the beauty they hold even beneath whatever darkness each of them is carrying. Looks like Delila already scrubbed them up and put them in clothes too, thank God.

Delila finally points to a young guy, who can’t be older than me. He looks to be around eighteen—if that. He’s slim, without being skinny, and his facial structure is made for an upper-class fashion magazine. Most of the guys from Kiznitch are good-looking, and when you see The Brothers, that only sells you on that, and this guy is no exception.

He tilts his head up to look me right in the eye, a small smile on his mouth. “And that,” Delila points her perfectly manicured finger toward him, “is Kenan.”

“Okay.” I clear my throat. “Do any of you dance?”

“Yes,” the blonde girl says, clearing her throat. “I do, and so does Kenan.”

“And you?” I ask to the ridiculously stunning brunette. “Do you dance?”

“Oh, she doesn’t talk much.”

I chuckle. “I can relate to that.” Looking up, I catch King’s eyes, and then bring myself to their level. “What about freestyle?”

They all nod, and Kenan stands in front of me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Oh boy. He’s trouble. “Such an honor to meet you, Perse.”

I scan his hand that’s out to meet me before slipping mine into his. “You too.”

He jumps onto the stage and the two others follow behind him. Delila sneaks up beside me, her arms crossed. “They’re going to do great, Perse.”

I tilt my head, running my fingers over my face. “I hope you’re right. Hey, while I have you here.” I smirk, turning over my shoulder slightly to catch the boys all staring at me. “For our acts, would it be too much to ask for the same face makeup that the boys wear?”

Delila cocks a brow. “Oh, you’re brave.”

I laugh, jumping up onto the center stage and ignoring everyone behind me.

“Okay,” I say, looking around at all of them. “I get that this might not be ideal for you all to do so quickly.”

“Perse?” Kenan interferes and I look straight at him. “We’re good, baby girl. You’ll see.”

I exhale a shaky breath. “Okay, good. I put a lot into this, and I don’t want to be an asshole, but it would be a huge relief if I didn’t have to train you.”

“You don’t,” Saskia murmurs, and then as if she’s surprised she’s answered, she looks around at all of us. “Train us, I mean.”

I nod, smiling at her. “Good. So, I’ll play a song, and I want you all to just do what you feel like you want. This song is pretty mellow, but I feel like it loosens your soul and makes it easy to express yourself. The quicker I see your style, the better.”

They all agree, and I spin around, glaring at Delila.

God, I hope she’s right.

I ignore the magnetic pull that is coming from the boys, and from King, picking up my phone and hitting play on “Breathe” by Mako. I hope to erase the memories this song gives me of King and me, and I hope to do that now. With this dance.

The song starts playing and I slightly watch them as they slowly form into a dance line, as if choreographed. They are talented. I can see it already.

When the beat kicks in, I roll around and wave my hips to the rhythm. Swinging my hand out, another hand catches onto mine and Kenan pulls me into his chest. I turn in his grip as the verse comes in again. I roll slowly off him, sweat spilling off me already—all of that alcohol—and when the chorus kicks in again, he throws me out while holding on to my fingers and I dance around him, him moving against me perfectly. Holy shit, Kenan is incredible. My eyes find King’s and I’m locked in. My breathing harbors and my eyes flutter closed. His finger is running over his upper lip, his eyes somewhat shaded by his hoodie. His knee is jiggling, and I can tell it’s agitating him. The song finishes, and I step out of Kenan’s grasp.