In Peace Lies Havoc (Midnight Mayhem #1)(89)

King flips him off and heads toward the door. “P.”

“I’ll be back.” My eyes find Killian, who hasn’t looked at me. His hands are buried in his hair, his elbows on the table. I find myself beside him, reaching up to touch his hands. “Kill?”

His eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, come to mine. “Worst twenty-four hours of my life.”

“Ah, you’re not so scary after all, huh?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Little Bird, we are not good people. Not even decent. We’ve all killed, almost been killed, and some of us,” his eyes flick to Kyrin, “have been through unmistakably disgusting ordeals, but lemme tell you.” His eyes narrow on mine. “Nothing has scared me like walking into that barn did.” My heart softens and I pat his head.

“I love you too.”

“AYYYY!” Killian jokes, rearing back. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. No one said shit about love!” I roll my eyes and make my way toward King, who is still standing with the door open. “Tell her that Kill doesn’t love!” I can still hear him protesting when the door closes and we make our way across the field to the tent. Instead of going inside, though, we snake around the back and toward the mansion. I know how Delila lives—hell, I’ve seen her mansion in New York.

“King.” I reach out for his arm, pausing his movements.

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “Don’t put words in your mouth that I can’t follow up with, P.” His eyes search mine.

“Why?” I ask the question I’ve been wanting to ask for way too long.

He pauses, and just when I think he’s not going to answer, he does. “Because you’re too good for me. Because I break everything that falls on my hands!”

I step up to him, my eyes commanding his as my hand wraps around the back of his neck. I yank him down to my level so our noses touch. “I’ve been in your hands since I was one day old, King.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, his eyes deep in mine. “And look at what good that has done.” He pulls away, leaving me standing here alone.

The wind whisks through my hair, and just as he steps through the door, I call out, “I know why you did it!” I tuck my hair behind my ears. “Follow me all those years. I know why.”

He steps backward and spins around to face me. “Why. P? Why do you think I stalked you for years?”

“Because I was your task, to watch and wait, to pounce, but the other half of you knew, King. Deep down, you knew I wasn’t Dove.”

“I didn’t,” he whispers.

“You’re a liar,” I counter.

He picks me up by the backs of my legs and slams me against the wall on the patio, probably giving everyone inside a show of our own. “I’m many fucking things, P, but a liar is not one of them.”

“Then why?”

“Why?” King counters. I can see his anger simmering beneath his cool exterior. “Because you’ve been wanted, hunted for years before your mother lost her shit.” He exhales. “Because even though I knew what I had to do, I knew you were my brother’s one true love. The one girl who could bring his sanity back to him, but I still didn’t want to give you to him. I still wanted you even though I knew I shouldn’t!”

My airways close in. “That’s not a bad thing, King.”

“No,” he mutters, his hand coming to the front of my throat where he massages gently. “But it’s a dangerous thing.”

He drops me back to the ground. “There’s a whole lot you need to hear.” Then he disappears into the house, leaving me breathless and twisted in knots.





Delila’s eyes glisten as I walk in, a glass of vodka on the rocks dangling between her fingers. She exhales. “Goddammit, Perse. Way to freak us out.” I lower myself onto the plush white sofa as she stands and pours herself another drink.

Maya, Val, Mischa, Rose, Saskia, Callan, and Kenan are seated around the enormous sitting room. There’s a large U-shaped sofa that is facing the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking where King and I just came from.

I was right. We would have given them all a show.

“We need to talk,” Delila says, just as Justice walks in with more people behind him.

I notice a few of them. One being Killian’s mom, the sex-crazed addict, and another being King’s mom. I wince when I see her. I find Keaton’s—well, our mom—Ash, and their fathers, as well as a few older men and women. There was another woman who walked in too, but she came alone. She looked out of place the most, wearing a knit cardigan and a long dress. Her blonde hair was pinned back in a braid, and her eyes looked tired.

“Help yourselves. I don’t have time to call the maid.” Delila gestures to the small bar that’s tucked away in the corner. I watch as some follow and gather drinks and others take a seat in various parts of the room. No one is speaking. The air is suddenly thick, and my anxiety comes in quicker.

I lean into King out of instinct, and his arm wraps around my back, forcing me closer to him. He presses his lips to my head. “You’re safe.”

I trust his words, but it wouldn’t be the first time I have, and he’s failed me one way or another. Trust is a learning process. You can completely trust someone, but it will still be a work-in-progress.