God of Malice (Legacy of Gods #1)(129)

Reina runs to them, places a hand on Killian’s arm, and tries to sound firm but gentle. “Let him go, Kill.”

“Stay out of it, Mom. My dear brother and I have a score to settle.”

“You’re hurting him.”

“He hurt me first and this is payback.”

“Killian, please.” Her fingers dig into his arm, but it’s like she doesn’t exist.

“Don’t beg for him, Mom. Just don’t.”

“Let your brother go, Killian.” I step forward, approaching them at a steady pace.

When he doesn’t show any sign of hearing me, I grab him by the nape and wrench him back with enough force to send him flying against the wall if I release him.

But I don’t.

Because as much as I was a violent person in my youth, I don’t use that shit anymore—especially not on my family.

Gareth bends over, slaps both palms on his knees, and coughs. The color slowly returns to his face as his breathing settles down. Reina pours him a glass of water, from his minibar, that he gulps in one go.

Killian glares at him, his index finger tapping manically on his thigh.

“Such a golden boy, Gaz,” he mocks, his tone on the verge of exploding. “Look at you being saved by Mommy and Daddy again.”

I tighten my hold on his neck. “Knock it off.”

“I know you don’t believe me.” Gareth holds his head high. “But I didn’t do it.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you. Because, the last time you got in between us, you wanted to ruin me through her. This was your chance to do that.”

“That was before I realized she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, asshole. I didn’t need to bring you down, because you’ve left me alone ever since she came into the picture. You don’t actively try to make my life hell like before, and you were starting to seem like a decent human being. But maybe I was just fooling myself.”

“Fuck you and your victim speech. It’s getting old fast.”

“Killian Patrick Carson.” Reina taps her foot on the ground. “I understand you’re upset, but you will not be speaking to your brother in that tone.”

“Upset?” he echoes. “Try fucking enraged, Mom. Your dear oldest son showed Glyndon something she shouldn’t have seen and now, she left.”

“I told you I didn’t show her that. I even deleted it from the archives.” Gareth’s voice rises with frustration. “Ask Jeremy, he was there and told me to bury the hatchet. Besides, you didn’t expect her to stay in the dark all her life, did you? She would’ve eventually found out. If not from me, then from someone else.”

Killian jerks in my hold in an attempt to go at his brother’s throat again.

“Calm down,” I say with patience I don’t particularly feel right now.

“Spare me the bullshit.” He forcibly wrenches himself from my hold. “You never wanted me to be born? Wonderful. Guess what, Dad? I never wanted to be your son. There, I said it, and you know what? I’m not even sorry, Mom. I should’ve told him this a long time ago.”

Reina physically steps backward from the shock, her lips trembling as if she’s finally seeing what type of monster her son actually is.

The type who’d assault his brother, jab at his father, and emotionally wreck his mother without blinking.

But I can’t even gather the energy to say I told you so, because Killian’s words and the anger behind them catches me completely off guard.

My first thought with Killian is to always subdue him somehow, shackle him in a way, knock him down a few notches so he never grows fully into who he is.

When I first found out about his tendencies, I took him hunting and enrolled him in highly competitive sports. I taught him how to channel that destructive energy and tame it, but he often spiraled out of control.

He eventually grew bored of repressing his true nature and rebelled. He punched his classmates, picked fights with thugs, and sent a few people to the ER.

I refused to bury his actions or let him use any sort of privileges. The first time the principal called me, I told him to suspend him. The second time, my father covered his tracks.

And that continued for all the times that followed.

My father is the reason Killian never learned his lesson. He kept getting him out of trouble so that the Carson name wasn’t sullied, even when I told him that he was only making him more untouchable.

“What’s wrong with being untouchable?” my father asked without batting an eye. “At least he’ll be powerful.”

My old man only ever cared about that—power. Didn’t matter how it was attained as long as the family name remained in a prestigious position.

Needless to say, I didn’t agree with him, and the fact that Killian stopped calling me and started going to his grandfather started a rift between us.

However, it’s the first time I’ve heard the words, or more accurately, the bomb he dropped just now.

I face him fully. “What did you just say?”

His shoulders have tensed, and the expression on his face is the most savage I’ve seen. He’s losing control.

I feel it.

He must feel it, too.

But he still speaks in that eternally casual tone. “I heard you that night when I was nine and had beat up that tool who was calling Mia names. Mom was depressed, drinking wine late at night in the kitchen, and you came to find her. I was right outside when you told her you should’ve only had Gareth and that I’m defective. And you know what? I heard Mom being angry, I heard her telling you to never say that again if you loved her, but your words are the only thing I remember. Thanks for the beautiful childhood memories, Dad. You hate who I am with everything in you, but you should be thankful. If those words had been directed at your golden boy there, he would’ve developed a trauma. Shouldn’t we all be grateful that I’m not a neurotypical fucking weakling?”