Page 27

KANE

“ B reathe, little shadow,” Lennox whispers into my ear as my eyes open.

My head rolls back and the small stones carpeting the dirt road dig into my back.

There’s something sticky on my hands, my arms, all over me.

But I can’t lift my head and I sound like a vacuum with how harsh my breathing is.

Cool air floods my face as Lennox carefully removes the mask and I mumble, “Are you going to punish me?”

He slowly shakes his head and strokes the tips of his fingers through my sweat-soaked hair.

The soothing motion reminds me of my mom.

She’d always use the tips of her fingers to stroke my hair back instead of her full hand.

It was hesitant, like she knew that Asher would be angry if he saw her giving me the same care he received.

But the small contact of the tips of her fingers weaving through the strands was enough to settle me.

Lennox disturbs it as he places his palm on my chest. “You’re okay, just breathe.” He pulses his fingers on my chest as though he has direct control of my lungs and says, “They’re dead. You’ll be okay.”

I watch the moonlight show the dark liquid coating my skin as I lift my heavy hands, then sit up, focusing on the blood. It’ll be red, nothing else. Just blood. Something clinks below me, and I look down to see the edge of my belt buckle. Undone.

Everything crumbles and I can’t close my eyes in time to stop the agony ripping through me. The humiliation is back and now the witness is my own uncle.

He remains on his haunches and grips my nape to pull me into his chest while I fucking cry.

He strokes the back of my head as his hum vibrates through his chest and pushes warm nostalgia into mine.

For some reason, that makes me sob harder.

It’s like I’m a child again, only Asher hasn’t locked me in the pantry to prevent my parents from hearing me cry for help.

Lennox doesn’t tell me to shut the fuck up or that I’m an embarrassment. He lets me fucking cry like a kid and continues humming. Each sweep of his hand over the back of my head carries the tune as he delicately presses his lips to my crown.

“It’s okay now,” he whispers, slowly rocking side to side. “You’ll accept it all soon and it will be easier.” His voice lowers further, and he holds his breath before he admits, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The ominous tone doesn’t help my emotions. But he hums, flexing his control and soothing me after piling on more shit.

I don’t have any idea how long he rocks me for, with that soft hum still filling the air, and I don’t move as I slowly manage to regain control over myself.

Extracting myself from his hold, I sit back and bring my knees up.

An extra barrier is put up as I rest my forearms on my knees while he just fucking stares.

It’s the same stare every fucker has given me.

The one that comes before their questions.

Questions I can’t answer because the truth is even more fucking embarrassing.

That’s one thing I wish I never knew about being pinned down.

How fucking humiliating it is. The pain can heal, I can be sewn up, but losing all sense of dignity isn’t something that can be replaced.

I can’t get it back and every fucking stare or question takes more.

Victim.

A word to describe the person wronged while putting a noose around their neck and robbing them of air all over again.

Victim.

A person who wasn’t able to help themselves. Powerless and used. I don’t want to be a fucking victim. I turn into the interrogator as I avoid his eyes.

“How do you know that song?” I grit out. “The hum?”

The smell of blood fills my nose, and dried flakes crumble off the edge of my gloves as I scrub my hand down my face to get rid of the moisture soaking into my skin.

“Your mother,” Lennox says before taking a fortifying breath. “She’d brush my hair and sing or hum to me.”

I look at him then. Not fully, just through the corner of my eyes.

The melancholy on his face is the clearest thing I’ve ever seen despite the low light.

He doesn’t stand up or copy how I’m sitting.

He remains on his haunches with his forearms on his thighs, his fingers lightly clasped together between his knees, and in a suit that is more than the average person’s salary.

“She used to do the same to me,” I quietly confess. “It was the only time Asher didn’t come first.”

Lennox curls his fingers around my nape and dips his head so we’re eye to eye.

His eyes are eerie as fuck due to how pale they are, but there’s a new warmth in them as he pulls me forward.

“Because we’re the same. We’re both the reflection and she knew what that meant.

She was all too aware of what being attached to you would do to her. ”

I laugh. It’s low and weak, but I fucking laugh at the thought of my parents’ distance and cold shoulder being due to protection. They were the adults, and if they didn’t want to get attached to their own child, then they never should have had me.

“Tell me everything,” I demand. He doesn’t say anything, and my voice darkens. “I’ve just orchestrated a car wreck, kidnapped two people, and killed two others. Fucking tell me!”

“One,” he calmly corrects. “You killed one. The other wasn’t you.

” He stands and straightens his clothes before going to the truck.

The back passenger door is open, and the couple are still a tangled mess on the floor as my uncle reaches into his pocket and takes out two syringes.

He doesn’t have any discomfort over drugging them, and acts like it’s a regular part of his day as he says, “I’ve already told you the tale.

There’s nothing more for you to know. Yet. ”

“Yeah, there is. If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask that prick. That goes against you not wanting me to speak to him, doesn’t it?”

He turns, looking at me over his shoulder.

I know he can’t worm his way out of giving me an answer now.

Turning to face me, he crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the side of the truck.

“We come from a very powerful family. One that has influence and more wealth than can be documented.”

“My dad’s rich—was rich—I get that.” I nod.

“No.” Lennox’s face twists in disgust and he shakes his head like I’m misunderstanding.

“He was a beggar in comparison. Your mother left a life where she was the ruler to step down into filth. You believe the Xandros name opens doors? Kobalt is more than you could ever imagine.” He takes a step forward, but he doesn’t tower over me.

“We don’t walk into rooms. We build them around us, and everyone presses their nose to the glass, dying to be allowed entry. ”

I understand wealth. I grew up in it. My dad didn’t exactly live a normal life, and we went to the best schools, had the best of everything and money was never an object.

I can’t remember a time in my life that I wanted for a material possession.

It was there and we had our own cards when we were too irresponsible to know that wealth wasn’t afforded to everyone.

But there’s more. It’s not about money or greed for Lennox and Rowan.

“What’s with the reflection bullshit?” I ask, and quickly add, “Don’t repeat the fable of two faces shit to me. Folklore doesn’t tell me anything.”

He laughs without sound, just a small brush of air, and shakes his head. “Folklore? That’s what you call your family history, your lineage?” I nod. “It’s a form of protection. After all, the best alibi is yourself, no?”

His manner of telling me shit is annoying, and I scoff. “I swear to fuck, every time I talk to you, I get more confused. I’m going to get an aneurysm from this shit one day.”

“Think, little shadow,” he says darkly. “When you were a child, did you ever wish that you could swap places with Asher? Perhaps you had a class you didn’t enjoy, or something that you didn’t want to attend.”

Delilah.

Every moment I saw him with Delilah since he started dating her, I wished that we could swap places. From the age of thirteen to the day he died, I wanted nothing more than to send him into my life and me into his.

“Yeah,” I admit, tracing a line that has cracked through the leather glove over my hand. “But it wouldn’t have worked. Everyone knew us.”

“Ah, you’re learning.” He smiles. “The mistake your mother made was allowing the world to know that there were two of you. It was her misguided attempt at protection.”

I nearly laugh because he doesn’t know the truth.

Mommy and Daddy Dearest didn’t fucking know I existed.

They went to the hospital to have one baby and left with two.

Their loving whispers were always filled with my mom regretting me being born, wishing that she knew that there were two children so that she could have gotten rid of me even though it would erase her beloved Asher too.

“Just like a mirror,” Lennox says. “If you change the angle, you’ll only ever see one of us.”

The uncharacteristic openness makes me look up, and he swallows around a lump in his throat. I already know the answer, since he’s said we’re the same, but I still ask, “Does Rowan Kobalt exist?”

His answer isn’t what I expect.

“Within his world, yes. He is the creator, the ruler, the judge, and the executioner.”

“What does he want with me?”

He deeply inhales, holding it before answering, “To restore order.” There’s barely any sound as he lets out a long breath that deflates his chest. “He’s given out his punishments and corrected the course, so to speak, and now he needs it to continue. Helene requested that it be you.”

“Who in the fuck is Helene?”

A strange look crosses his features and a small crease forms between his brows. It’s the first time he’s ever looked unsure of anything as he asks, “Your mother never spoke of her?”

I slowly shake my head while trying to think of a time the name was mentioned.

“She’s the original creator of us all.” He tenses, paling the longer he speaks. “The tree that spread its roots to touch as many as possible.” Those whitish blue eyes fix on me, and the next words out of his mouth sound like a warning, not an introduction. “She’s your grandmother.”

Well, that’s the creepiest fucking way to word that.

“So, you want me to do what?” I ask. “Claim my inheritance?”

The open conversation comes to an end as he dismisses me.

“Don’t ask too many questions; the answers will only harm you.

I can’t protect you, but I don’t want to hurt you.

Ease into the information or it will. Don’t search for it and be wary of every room you enter, especially if it’s one you’re invited into. ”

He holds his hand out to me, and I take it. I’ll most likely come to regret ever accepting his offers but he’s the only family I have. So, I deflect. “You should write riddles for the paper.”

The corners of his lips lift into a weak smile as he softly breathes out, “In another life, little shadow.”