Page 31

KANE

I wait in the luxurious cabin for another punishment I don’t deserve, my hate for Delilah growing tenfold as the seconds pass.

That fucking cunt caused all of this. All she had to do was tell the truth, and I’d never be aware of this shit.

I wouldn’t know that Rowan exists, and I’d never have been in that fucking prison.

The knife in my boot scratches my skin and the blade awkwardly presses against my ankle. But it’s comforting to know I’m not unarmed this time. I’ve trained, killed, and tortured. I can take the fuckers now. I’m no longer a teenager thrown to the whims of sick fucks.

Snow crunches outside of the cabin and I stand with my back against the wall, facing the front door.

Multiple booted footsteps stamp outside the house, the guards’ shadows flickering through the large windows, and I hold myself taut to prevent my limbs from shaking.

The front door slams into the wooden beam beside the entrance as it’s forcefully pushed open.

Six.

Six guards enter, all of them wearing masks, and Rowan stands behind them.

The dramatic cunt lifts his hand in a swiping motion and they part, allowing him to walk through.

How much rape does he have to witness in a day?

Does he have some sort of sick fuck quota that needs to be met to be satisfied?

But he doesn’t come inside any further as he acts like his threat isn’t looming over my head. “We’re going to be late. Or are you going to stand there all night?”

The lightness he carries makes him even more fucked up.

It’s worse that he doesn’t seem to be affected by his own twisted reality.

A normal person, any person, would. No one would condemn other people to torture then smile afterwards.

It would alter them, change who they are and warp their beliefs in humanity.

Instead, Rowan revels in it. He finds it amusing and he taps his index finger against his watch.

“Tick, tick. Punctuality is necessary for important events.”

“What event?” I ask stupidly, stepping forward.

He smiles and his eyes darken. “My nuptials, of course. Why else would I require my dear nephew’s attendance?”

Who in the fuck would marry this prick?

I step forward before he can lose his patience and he turns for me to follow him.

The guards do the same, so I stay behind them, refusing to give anyone my back.

His masked minions split between three cars as he gets in the one in the middle.

It’s like a convoy: each car positioned to protect him and one of the masked guards remains beside the open passenger door.

The edge of their mirrored mask shows Rowan in the back seat as they turn to me.

I guess my seat has been pre-picked. I get in beside him on the other side of the leather armrest.

Despite my wealthy upbringing, I have never witnessed anything like what I’m sitting in.

The space between my knees and the passenger seat in front of me is large enough for someone to comfortably stand.

The interior is all soft, buttery leather, and I can’t hear anything once the door closes.

Not even as the masked guard gets in and starts the engine.

We roll through the snow, soundless and smooth as Rowan silently sits beside me, uncaring about anything.

The tinted windows don’t allow me to see the journey, but I’ve evaded his punishment, so I copy him and stare at the headrest in front of me the entire drive.

There’s no indication given to who he’s marrying or where.

All my thoughts are full of Delilah anyway.

I wish I killed her now. No amount of joy I felt when I found out she was alive was worth the destruction she caused.

Yet that idiotic part of me that has always wanted her, that always craved her attention, begs to have one more hit of the euphoria and distraction only she can provide.

It was satiated while I pretended to be Asher and the newer, toxic, pained parts of myself were eased when I was chasing her as a ghost.

We come to a gentle stop, and I wait until the control freak has gotten out of the car to do the same. The snow is even more intense due to the higher altitude. I look down the steep slope we drove up, knowing if I try to run, then I’ll slide straight down it.

The twisted groom rounds the car, walking towards a large, stone cathedral with arched windows positioned at least twenty feet above ground level and salt staining the old stones.

Snow clings to the ledges, dipping where the material has broken away from the elements.

A warm glow flickers through the darkened glass and the large door creaks as it’s pulled open by his guards for Rowan to enter.

I can’t tear my eyes off the ornate etchings in the stone.

It’s intricate, yet every inch is symmetrical to the other half.

The inside is the same as I walk through to see Lennox standing with a priest. Rowan stops beside them, both of them standing out in the open, together for the first time.

It’s weird as fuck and I’m not dressed for a wedding, but I follow them since I have nothing better to do.

The priest’s maroon silk robes are covered in embroidery of the same color, so I can’t make out each image due to it blending into the fabric.

His cheeks are ruddy and there are age spots on his balding scalp.

But there’s recognition in his light amber, almost yellow eyes as Rowan taps my fucking back.

“Kane,” he announces the way a proud father would their child.

He has a fixation with touching me. It’s always my shoulder or back in the same way, yet there’s no warmth in it. I want to shove his fucking hand up his ass.

I step to the side and look for any sign of who he’s marrying. I don’t know what his preference would be, most likely someone fucked up. But he smiles, that smarmy fucking smile, and keeps his eyes locked on mine as he says, “You know my bride very well from what I’ve heard.”

There isn’t a woman in sight unless one of the guards is planning to dramatically remove their mask and profess their undying love for the prick.

“How do I know her?” I ask, and continue looking for the “her” he’s talking about.

There are very few women I know, well or otherwise.

Cold air enters the large space as the cathedral doors open.

I force my face to remain relaxed as Ruby walks through the gap.

The guards don’t allow her much space, but she doesn’t drop her chin and her heels click against the aged stone floor.

Her elbow brushes a guard’s stomach and dress shoes tap once against the floor.

The guards quickly part, giving her a wide berth as a man walks in behind her.

The top of her head sits below his chin with a few inches to spare, but it’s the visceral violence on his face that has my attention.

Particularly, how it intensifies as he looks at Rowan.

“Ruby?” I deduce as I follow the man’s gaze to my uncle. The smile hasn’t left Rowan’s face, and he pays his bride no attention. That’s fully fixed on me. I could have centuries to prepare for his response, but it wouldn’t be enough.

“Delilah,” he says, carrying both a threat and satisfaction. His lip curls up and he sneers, “The other Leroux progeny have dirtied themselves.”

I have to stay clean until I find the prince.

My heart spasms and my vision blurs. Images of me tearing this motherfucker’s head off his shoulders flicker in front of me.

His blood staining the floor and wiping his existence from the planet.

But Lennox takes a step closer and I remind myself that we’re in Austria, that Delilah is safe from everyone other than me, and that she is my fucking wife whether she likes it or not.

Ruby and her impeccably dressed bodyguard take a seat in the front pew. She doesn’t remove her coat, only unbuttons it, and crosses one leg over the other. The tip of her heel glints and I nearly roll my eyes at her having a diamond-tipped fucking heel. The spoiled princess.

I temper my voice, removing any emotion from it, burying every memory and claim to Delilah as I ask, “How did you meet?”

He smiles wider, patting my shoulder as he leans into me. “That’s the beauty. She doesn’t remember and, as far as she’ll know, this is our first meeting.”

The only memories that are hazy for Delilah are the ones while she was locked in the hospital.

Everything else is right. She knew what was happening.

It’s why I built my game around that moment.

If I changed every detail, then she would have questioned it.

But she didn’t, because she’s aware that time of her life isn’t clear.

All the best lies are rooted in truth and Rowan isn’t fucking replicating my game with my wife.

I am her tormentor, the orchestrator of her mind collapsing, and her only fucking husband.

“She’s already married,” I admit without thought.

I have one thing to myself. One thing that is solely mine.

Delilah might not physically belong to me because she wanted to fuck anything that moved, but her life is mine to make a misery.

I’m owed it and it will never be solely for entertainment.

That’s just an extra while I get retribution.

Rowan’s brand of misery isn’t just. Mine fucking is.

“To me,” I add, taking a step back. Straightening my shoulders, I meet his eyes without an ounce of fear. “And I’m not divorcing her.”

His eyes harden and his smile drops, allowing his true sadistic nature to be shown.

I won’t back down. I’ve taken his punishments, limped and fucking cried myself to sleep.

Delilah hasn’t. She won’t. She might think I’m a hypocrite when I hold this over her head, but there’s a difference between senseless agony and repaying what she did to me.

I want her pain to push away the memories of my own.

Rowan wants her pain because it fuels him.

To him, she’ll be another faceless victim, a pawn to play with when he’s bored of his other victims. To me, she’s more.

To me, she’s everything. She’s the earth crumbling under my feet, dragging me into this awful existence, and she’s also the reprieve from it.

Heels click against the stone, then a shadow falls over me. Ruby stands closer to me than Rowan, her guard behind her, and she speaks as though she’s equal to him.

“The agreement is that a Leroux marries a Kobalt.” She looks at Rowan, then Lennox, and her eyes soften a fraction when they fall on me. It doesn’t weaken her resolve as she adds, “Kane is one of the original families. Their marriage is sufficient.”

Who makes agreements about marriages between families? None of us are from fucking royalty that we need to “protect the bloodline” or some shit. It’s a weird sentiment anyway and it only resulted in inbreeding.

But Lennox plays devil’s advocate, gesturing for Rowan to step to the side. They walk ahead, speaking quietly so none of us overhear as they walk past the altar and stand to the side. Even the low murmuring is muted in the large cathedral.

I turn to Ruby. “What the fuck is going on?”

Rowan’s eyes snap to me, and Ruby’s guard stands taller.

He’s nearly seven foot and made entirely of muscle despite his lean physique.

Yet it’s his eyes that are the creepiest thing about him.

The deep purple appeared silver from far away, but this close they look fake.

My old babysitter and new sister-in-law doesn’t move her lips as she whispers, “I promised to save her from my life.”

Before I’m able to interrogate her, a door creaks.

The shitshow of a reunion gets fucking worse as Harkin and Lizbeth proudly walk into the cathedral, their steps only faltering when they see their daughter.

My bitch of a mother-in-law lifts her chin higher.

Fucking cunt. Harkin doesn’t. He puffs his chest out, the pompous prick, and ignores his daughter to address her guard. “Daigon, you disappoint me.”

I watch them like they’re a tennis match as the guard, Daigon, refuses to offer his hand like I’ve witnessed every person do in Harkin Leroux’s presence.

He simply looks at him like he’s shit on the bottom of his shoe and says, “Now, Harkin, is that any way to speak to your son-in-law after so many years?”

The fuck?

I look down at Ruby’s hand. Where there should be a ring, there’s a stone embedded into her skin. She narrows her eyes slightly, telling me not to ask questions. She never had a ring the last time I saw her, and neither she nor Scarlet mentioned that she was fucking married.

Her father is a cunt, the biggest cunt to exist, because he looks his daughter, his first-born child, up and down with disgust. “That filth is no part of me.”

Daigon leans into him, his previous violence turning into calm as his voice drops, darkening and carrying a promise. “But I am part of her.” He steps closer to Ruby then, using two fingers, lifts the edge of her unbuttoned coat to reveal the small bump under her dress.

Everyone’s attention is on her, specifically her bump, and the soon-to-be grandparents don’t show any joy. Rowan and Lennox are both invested too as they pause their conversation to watch it unfold.