Page 65 of Cruel When He Smiles

I stay rooted in place, fists clenched, pulse punching at my throat, because he’s right. Iamspiraling. Iamlosing it. And all it took was one smile.

That’s what Nate fucking Carter does to me. He breaks me open, whether he’s trying to or not.

I drag a hand down my face, exhaling through my nose. Then I straighten, grab the edge of the counter, and force myself to breathe.

I’ll let Killian think he made his point. But the next time Nate smiles at anyone else, I’m not going to be this controlled.

Next time, I won’t use words at all.

Liam

Thebackporchcreaksunder my feet as I step out, the same scents of grilled meat, chlorine, and sun-warmed beer ride the breeze, but I barely register any of them. My blood is still running hot from the kitchen when Killian smugly walked away like he hadn’t just unmade me in three calculated movements.

I should give myself time to recalibrate, to shove this spiral back down where it belongs. But I can’t. Not when Killian has that look in his eye—the one that says he’s two steps ahead of everyone in the room and he’s already decided who gets to burn.

He’s leaning over the balcony rail, arms folded, head tilted down at the backyard below like a god surveying a war zone. The soft clink of his Zippo lighter flicks once, twice, but he doesn’t light it. Instead, he beckons me over with one ringed finger.

“Come here.”

I step closer, the old weight of instinct pulling me forward before thought can intervene. My fists are still tight, theadrenaline not fully settled, but Killian’s tone is mild, almost distracted.

“Watch.”

I move beside him, posture tense, and arms crossed as I follow his gaze toward the pool. I expect to see more of what I hate—Nate laughing with someone that isn’t me, pretending he doesn’t care I’ve stopped watching. But the person I see first is Sage Blackwell. The Sigma Rho Alpha legacy is in the pool, hair plastered to his cheeks, muscles tense as Roman grabs him from behind and dunks him underwater.

There’s a ripple of splashes, then shouts from the others watching. Roman’s grin is wide, boyish, teeth white against his tan skin. He pulls Sage up again and immediately dunks him once more, rough enough that Sage squeals but not rough enough to hurt.

I glance sideways at Killian and catch the soft smile playing on his mouth.

It’s not the cruel kind, it’s soft—warmth that tugs at the corner of his mouth, eyes gone slack with quiet affection.

Roman is the sole soft spot my brother has ever let grow roots. His first loyalty, and the one variable in Killian’s equation that breaks the formula. He’s the tether, the reason Killian hasn’t burned this place to the ground. The only person who could gut him without needing a blade.

I watch him now with a different kind of sharpness rising under my ribs because I know he’s not showing me this for free.

Killian straightens, watching the pool with the precision of a sniper. “Three,” he says quietly.

I glance at the pool, then back at him, confused. “What are you—”

“Two.”

My gaze flicks back toward the pool, scanning for the threat, the detonation. Sage is still wrestling with Roman, laughing between coughs as he pushes at Roman’s chest.

“One,” Killian finishes with a breath.

Luca steps into the water, calm and composed, shoulders rolling back as he moves through the shallow end. Roman notices first and pulls away, giving Sage a look before swimming toward the far edge of the pool. Sage turns, confused, just in time for Luca to reach him.

Luca cages him against the wall with both arms, pressing forward until there’s nowhere left to go. Sage stiffens but doesn’t pull away. And then Luca leans in, mouth catching Sage’s without hesitation, water rippling around them as everyone watching starts whooping and jeering. I see mouths moving, some cheers, some teasing comments, a few gasps of surprise.

“Now,” Killian murmurs beside me, “watch your pet.”

Nate is across the yard, standing half in shadow by the drinks table, his sunglasses pushed up into his hair. He was sipping soda a second ago, loose-limbed and trying to blend into the background. But now, he’s frozen. His jaw clenched too tightly, the color has drained from his face, and there’s something in his expression I don’t see often.

Betrayal.

It’s raw and devastating.

The kind of emotion you can’t fake because it only comes when someone rips something out of you that you didn’t even know was still attached. He’s not blinking. His hand tightens around his can so hard that it warps.