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“My King, I was wondering if you have seen Elder Larkin?” I hear Crux’s voice. I look at Kyson, who motions for me to remain quiet.

“Why?” Kyson asks him. I can tell that Kyson finds his call rather suspicious.

“Well, he has been missing for several days, that is why. He is unreachable, and I checked his car coordinates, and it says he is in your kingdom, My King, so one would assume you had seen him considering he has been there for a week,” Crux answers. Now that makes no sense at all.

“I want this tracking information you have,” Kyson tells him.

“Of course, I can email it through. Is everything alright in your Kingdom? I have been hearing some startling rumors,” Crux asks.

“Rumors like what?” Kyson asks.

“That your men stormed through one of my businesses for one, that one of my workers was kidnapped by one of your guards and eight of my security personnel were killed. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? I’ll look into it, but someone wiped my security footage, which I find rather odd. Then Larkin was tracked there, so I figured it was to speak with you?”

“Well, Crux, I would be less worried about my kingdom and more worried about yours. Rumors are circulating, and I'm beginning to notice something.”

“What is that, my King?” Crux asks in a tone that almost sounds mocking.

“Everything leads back to the council,” Kyson says.

“Doesn’t it always. I will send you the tracking data. When you find Larkin, ask him to call me, please,” Crux tells Kyson.

“Will do,” Kyson replies, hanging up on him and glaring at his phone screen.

Chapter

Thirty-Nine

KYSON

I gently tap Azalea’s leg to climb off me, my mind racing, and I need to speak to Gannon, Liam, and Damian. Something is amiss. But as I attempt to rise from my seat, Azalea’s hand grabs mine, her nervousness palpable. I pause, feeling the weight of her anxiety pressing against me through the bond.Why is she nervous?

“It’s alright, love, we’ll figure it out,” I assure her softly, attempting to move past her. Yet, once again, she clings to my hand, her grip tightening, then moves in front of me, blocking me from passing her.

“Azzy, love,” I say, locking eyes with her.

“Peter is waiting for us in the kitchen,” she blurts out the words before I can comprehend their meaning.Peter is back on the castle grounds?At first, I believed her nervousness and worry were over Crux, not over her damn brother. The mention of her brother’s name sends a surge of anger through me.How dare he return to the castle grounds? And more importantly, how did he manage to bypass my guard?

“I’ll handle it,” I tell her. But she presses her hands to my chest, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear but also pleading, as I move toward the door.

“No, I want to help him,” she pleads, causing me to halt. I grip the door handle tightly, conflicted between my own anger and Azalea’s need to help everyone, even those who don’t deserve her help.

“No, Azalea, I won’t allow that,” I assert firmly, my voice laced with frustration.Hasn’t he taken enough from us?I had reluctantly accepted her decision to spare his life before, but that is as far as my tolerance extends. I have no desire to aid him in any way. I don’t even think I can stand to see his face again without wanting to kill him.

“Ester abandoned him again. His grandparents kicked him out. He has been staying by the stables and the river,” Azalea explains.

“The answer is no, Azalea. He is not supposed to set foot on the castle grounds again.”

“He is just a boy, Kyson,” she defends him, her voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

“And some would say you’re just a girl, Azalea. You are not much older than him. He knows right from wrong. He knew what he was doing,” I argue, struggling to understand how she fails to see the gravity of his actions. Afterall, she is the one who was stabbed by him.

“Can we just hear him out, please?” she implores. My mate’s forgiving nature is both a blessing and a curse. It seems that because Peter is her blood, she feels compelled to give him a second chance. But sometimes, second chances can lead to a never-ending cycle of disappointment and heartache. I refuse to let him jeopardize our happiness once more.

“You are not obligated to help or love him, Azalea. Not after what he did,” I remind her.

“I know that, Kyson. Peter isn’t bad. He made a mistake,” she insists, her voice quivering with emotion that I recognize instantly as guilt through the bond.

“A mistake? It was more than a mistake, Love. That so-called mistake cost our daughter’s life,” I reply, my words coming out in a furious growl. Azalea flinches at the mention of our loss, her pain clearly etched across her face.