King Cave (Forever Evermore, #2)(133)

I shakily took one in through my nose, my hands trembling again as I whispered, “She was his mom, Merrick. I told her to go into that back room. When she died doing what I told her to do, I couldn’t even retrieve her body for a proper burial.” A sob escaped. “I can’t f*cking believe this.”

“Shh,” he hushed softly. “I know. I know.” He sighed. “Tough decisions can make or break a person. You won’t break. Just keep breathing, Lily. That’s the only advice I can give you right now that will help this pass. Just keep breathing.”

“Okay,” I whispered, doing as told, even as a river of tears drenched my cheeks.


Finding a place to hide wasn’t hard with all of the houses in the immediate area in foreclosure. I had my pick, and I chose the one farthest away from others. First, I took in Ezra, laying him on the light carpet in the front room. Second, I took in Cahal, laying him next to Ezra. Lastly, I took in Antonio, laying him in an upstairs room away from Cahal and Ezra. I didn’t know how they would react when they awoke, possibly blaming Antonio or me or the world in general, but I thought it best to keep him separate. Then I shut the back door I had busted open and went to sit in the front room under a window, resting against the wall with Clyde and Bonnie in my lap and waiting for the inevitable.

One hour later, Cahal stirred. I blinked, my eyes glowing in the dark room and casting his body in blue. He rolled sluggishly onto his hands and knees. Shook his head. He stilled, his gaze flying first in Ezra’s direction. His eyes glowed so dark they appeared like sparkling stars as they surveyed his son’s frame, the flare of his gaze having the reverse effect to the darkness of the barren room. Sharply, his attention snapped to me.

I stared back, not saying a word, feeling empty inside and set to face his condemnation.

“How…” He rubbed his chest. “What…” He blinked, his breathing hitching. His shoulders slumped. “Oh, God…not Vivian.”

It was a whispered breath. “I’m so sorry.”

His throat bobbed as he repeatedly swallowed. His gaze flew around the room. And returned to me with an expression of hopelessness. “Where’s her body?”

My chin trembled, even though I still felt like a hollow, bottomless pit. “I couldn’t get her before the Com police came.”

His nostrils flared, his shoulders hunching even further. “Antonio?”

“Alive and recovering from his vision,” I stated evasively.

He ran a hand over his face before he turned his head from me. “I loved her.”

My mouth was so dry. “I know.”

His shoulders trembled as he whispered hoarsely, “She was my light when it was so dark.”

My lips thinned even further at his palpable agony.

He was quiet for a long moment. “Did Ezra kill the person who killed her?”

“Yes.”

He nodded woodenly. “His predator came out.” A pause. “Did you knock him out?”

“Yes.”

His chest heaved once. Twice. “I’m going to take a walk.”

I watched as he left, his actions stiffer than a one-hundred-year-old Com, then turned my glowing gaze to where Ezra still lay, his only movement his chest rising and falling.

Twenty minutes later, it was his turn to stir.

He groaned, grabbing his head.

I waited.

Like his father, he froze on the ground, his breathing hiccupped, then he shouted, “Lily?”

Continuing to breathe as Elder Merrick had instructed, I whispered, “I’m here.”

His head snapped in my direction, his eyes instantly glowing. And again, like his father, he stared, his eyes roaming my face, and bit by bit, an expression of desolation etched his features before his gaze flew around the room. Voice choking, he asked instantly, “My dad?”

“Alive. He’s taking a walk.”

He nodded jerkily, his chest heaving. After a few moments, he asked, “Antonio?”

“Alive and recovering from his vision.”

His gaze came back to mine. Utter despair watched me. Stayed glued as he slowly rolled to his side, curling in on himself. His chin quivered, his breathing becoming difficult for him. The barest whisper. “I need you.”

Hiccupping air, I nodded quickly, pushing Bonnie and Clyde off my lap so I could crawl to him. I barely made it there, lying beside him, holding his head to my chest and wrapping myself around him, before he bellowed in anguish, his body quaking as soulful sobs overtook him. I hung on tight, keeping him embraced in loving arms. I knew what it was like to lose a loving mother at a young age.

There was no correct way to describe the loss of the person who had raised you, who had loved you unconditionally, who had kissed every scrape, fought every battle you couldn’t. The person in your life who was tender and ferocious all at the same time, the experienced saint to your youthful carelessness, the perfect person to your flawed self and still loved you nonetheless, who was always there with open, warm arms. No, there was no way to describe the horrifying grief which came with losing that too early, realizing your ‘home’ would never embrace you again.

Sorrow beat at me heavily for knowing, not only seeing, the pain that the man I loved was experiencing. My emotionless, constructed shell shattered, and I cried quietly while I held him, only just strong enough to be what he needed.