Page 55 of Cruel When He Smiles

He stares at me and I know he’s waiting for me to fold under my own conviction. The overhead light flickers, catching on the sheen of sweat above his brow, and for a second, he looks less like a killer and more like a boy about to break. His silence is worse. That’s a scream with all the sound ripped out.

So, I close the space between us. My hand lifts, and I press my palm flat against his chest, right over his heart. I can feel how it’s hammering. Not that he’d ever admit it. But I feel his fear in the way he doesn’t push me away.

“I remember what you’ve done for me,” I murmur, not looking away. “Every time I broke. Every night you stayed outside my door when no one else knew how to deal with me. Every time you cleaned my blood off the floor before I even asked. I haven’t forgotten any of it, Killian.”

His throat works around the lump I know is there, but he doesn’t answer. So, I keep going.

“I know you think Carter’s gonna ruin me. That I’ll turn into something soft and breakable. But I’m not slipping, and I haven’t changed,” I say.

The sharp twist in his features falters, and he blinks as if I slapped him. He shakes his head once, eyes glassy with too much he can’t process. “You cut yourself again,” he whispers, blue eyes hard, “and you didn’t even tell me.”

“I didn’t want to give you one more thing to worry about.”

His voice drops lower, rough as gravel. “You fuckers in this house are the only things I ever worry about.”

My chest tightens, and I know he means it. He’s never loved easily or kindly. Never touched with gentle hands or kissed anyone without wanting to own the air in their lungs.

I press my forehead lightly to his, a gesture I haven’t done in years. Since before we were boys playing house in mansions built on rot and silence. Before we understood what we were becoming.

“I bled in that shower because I didn’t know what to do with the want,” I say. “But I’m still the same fucked-up version of myself you dragged off the bathroom floor at sixteen.”

He sighs. “But you’re slipping.”

“Then catch me when I do,” I sigh. “You’ve been catching me since we were kids, Kill. Might as well keep your streak alive.”

A rough sound escapes him, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, and I feel the fight bleeding out of his shoulders. His head tips, forehead pressing harder against mine, and for a second,we’re just two boys who found out they shared the same rotten bloodline.

Two boys raised by monsters.

Two sons forged in survival.

“I’ve got this under control,” I say again.

Killian steps back, grabs another cigarette, lights it, and breathes in deep before letting the smoke roll from his mouth.

“You don’t,” he says. “But you’re going to pretend you do, and I’m going to let you. Because you’re my brother, and I’ve never stopped you from setting fires before.”

He exhales again and walks to the window, resting his hip against the frame. “But if you ever come back here bleeding over that boy again and letting him undo everything I’ve stitched back together—” He looks at me then, blue eyes cold and final. “I will put him down. I lost a brother once; I won’t fucking lose another. So, please don’t make me dig another hole.”

I nod once, not in agreement, but acknowledgment, and he turns, walking back to his bed and collapsing onto it again like he’s already spent.

“You want to keep playing prey?” he says. “Fine. Just don’t forget who the real predators are.”

“I won’t,” I say, already halfway to the door. “But it’s easier to eat them when they come willingly. By the time I’m done with Nate, he won’t remember who he was before me. He’ll rewrite his entire personality around my attention.”

Killian exhales a cloud of smoke and smiles widely. “Nowthat’smy brother.”

Nate

BythetimeIreach the Sin Bin, I hesitate for the first time. My hand’s on the front door, my heart’s banging in my chest, and part of me wonders what the hell I’m doing by going to him to thank him in person.

I lift my hand to knock anyway and my teammate, Adrian Hart, answers the door, surprised to see me.

“Hey,” I mutter, keeping my voice even, not entirely sure why I’m suddenly self-conscious.

“Nate?” he says, like he’s double-checking that I’m real and standing here. “Everything good?”

“Yeah, I—uh… I’m here to see Liam?”