KANE

D elilah was mine before I even knew the depth of the word.

I gave her my firsts because it was only ever meant to be her.

It wasn’t even a proper fucking kiss, because my palms were clammy and I’ve never felt my heart pound as much as it did at twelve years old with my best friend sitting beside me.

That was before she was ever a person of interest to Asher.

He didn’t look at her or want her. She was just mine.

“Remember the first time you slept in my bed?” I ask as she clings to me. There’s no response so I keep going. “It was an accident. You’d had an argument with Asher.”

A sob cracks her voice, and she hesitantly wraps her arms around my neck. “That was the first time,” she whispers to herself, but there’s too much sadness in it for it to be about me.

Unless she regrets it. Which wouldn’t be a hard feat considering I’ve fucking broken her.

“It was real,” I say over her cries. “And I loved you more than anything in existence.”

Her tears slip between our cheeks as she shakes her head. She sounds younger, innocent, as she admits, “No. That was the first time he hit me. My mom told him not to get my face the next time because it would raise questions.”

I would hear their arguments. They were both as bad as each other and they’d have screaming matches when they thought no one was home.

But I never heard him put his fucking hands on her.

I would have stopped it. I think I would have anyway.

All the bullshit lies are slowly unravelling.

The conversation I overheard between my parents when they said she was lying to ruin their reputation wasn’t a fucking lie.

“You told my dad, didn’t you?”

She nods and sniffles. “He didn’t believe me. When we went to his office on my birthday, I told him. Or I think it happened.”

“It did,” I confirm. I was there. No one would tell me shit. They just kept staring at each other and my father was more concerned about his merger with Harkin than the fact his fucking son was beating Delilah.

“I’m sorry, my pretty girl.”

I can’t say anything else. There’s no apology to make up for the shit I’ve done to her.

It’s deeper than my misguided vengeance.

Everything goes back to when we were teenagers, and she was alone.

I never understood why she stayed with him, but he was fucking hurting her while she was with him.

What would he have done to her if she left, when no one believed her?

No one was there to protect her, to act as a barrier between her and the prick.

I don’t have any hope for her parents wanting to protect their daughter. Not when they’re both sick and twisted. So I give Delilah something that she’s never had before—honesty.

“I’m going to leave—” She pushes against my shoulders, and I hold her tighter.

“Stop,” I say softly, dragging her closer.

“Listen to me. I’m going to leave and make sure there’s no one left to hurt you.

I don’t know what’s going to happen, but Lennox mentioned that Rowan,” she violently flinches at the name and her nails score against my neck, “wants me to take over his businesses. I’ll find out what happened to your baby and ruin them all. ”

The fucked up torture house in Austria won’t be good for Delilah’s mind. I don’t want her witnessing anything that goes on there. I fall silent. I need to find a way to keep her with me while keeping her away from the shit I’m going to be surrounded by.

“You said that we’ll stay together and that’s how we’ll be okay,” she says tearfully, full of accusation.

“I know, koukla mou. But I’m the one who hurt you, so it’s my job to replace the peace and get rid of your confusion.”

The back of my thighs burn as my weight presses against my calves. But I hold her. I just fucking hold her because there’s nothing else that makes sense. I’m in a maze, and any which way I turn is blocked.

“Do you remember the first thing you said to me?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

“Knock, knock.”

“Kane, stop,” she whines.

“No, that’s what you said. I asked you, ‘Who’s there?’ and you said, ‘Delilah, who’s going to change your life.’ You had mud on the front of your dress because you’d just fell down the slide.”

Pulling her head back, she gawps at me. Her eyes narrow and then a small smile lifts her lips. “I didn’t remember that. Why did you?”

“Because you changed my life. In all fairness, you gave me a warning. I just thought your jokes were shit. But now, I’m saying it to you. Knock, knock?”

“Who’s there?” she whispers.

“Kane. Only ever Kane.”

“Kane, who?”

“Kane, who’s going to get you answers.”

She nods and tests me. “What’s the agreement?”

I blow out a breath to delay answering and to keep her like this, as someone who doesn’t hate the sight of me. As soon as she knows the truth, she’s going to hate me even more and she’ll be in pain. I can only delay it for so long. I cup her cheek, savoring the feeling of her skin against mine.

“The agreement was made before you were born. For Ruby. She was supposed to marry a Kobalt and have a child that was part Leroux and part Kobalt, combining their wealth and power.”

Understanding washes over her and she looks down at her stomach.

“That’s why he did it. Asher. He messed with my birth control so that he could have some super baby that no one would care about.

” She slowly looks up and her hands are limp against my shoulders.

“That’s why Ruby and Scarlet left too. They were cleverer than me.

They knew that we were poker chips and dirty handshakes behind closed doors. ”

A tear slowly falls from the corner of her eyes, and I meet it as it drops against her cheek.

It rolls over my lips, and she smiles like the act of me tasting her tears is something great.

The small curve doesn’t last long when she looks over my shoulder and audibly gulps.

Looking back at me, she softly begs, “Can I come with you?”

I hold her even tighter in fear that she’ll do some crazy shit and try to go over the edge of the cliff face again. Before I can formulate a sentence that will keep her attached to me and not be a lie, she presses her cheek to mine and whispers, “They’re watching us.”

“Who?” I try to turn my head, but she digs her nails into my shoulder.

“Helene. My grandparents. They can see us, Kane. We can’t escape.”

Fuck!

Is there nowhere on this fucking property that’s private?

Fuck it.

I stand with Delilah still in my arms and cup the back of her head. “Trust me?”

She doesn’t answer. I can’t put her through any more of their shit. I can’t add more pain to her mind or body. If the ceremony they called a wedding is any reference of what’s to come, maybe Delilah has the right idea of going over the edge.

The sun is lower, making the water look like a mirror. I grab her hand and slowly walk backwards. Each step drags her features down as her eyes wildly flick between me and our audience. So I repeat, “Trust me.”

Her feet finally fucking move and we slowly create a gap of a couple of feet between us and the edge of the cliff. I stop and squeeze her hand. “Don’t let go. Whatever happens, just don’t let go of me.”

Her weak nod is all the confirmation I need.

“Run.”

Her brows slam together as I drag her forward.

I have no idea if we have enough to clear the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, but all I can fucking see is the way she cried.

How lost she is and that it’s my fault. My eyes don’t close as the edge of the cliff gets closer.

We’ll find somewhere she can hide, and I’ll come back to get the answers she needs to be herself again.

I’m pushed forward as pain spears through my left arm. Delilah’s scream pulls me back as she tugs on my right hand held in hers.

“KANE!”

Warm liquid drips down the back of my arm and the momentum of whatever has hit me makes me stumble. Delilah continues pulling and she grips the side of my shirt as I look down into the water. There’s nothing to stop me falling. I let go of her hand, so I don’t drag her with me.

But the fucking idiot doesn’t allow me to.

She pushes her entire weight behind her shoulder to ram her body into my side, knocking me away from the edge.

I fall backwards as she screams louder, wavering on the crumbling edge.

Every movement brings pain with it. I try to grab her hand but she’s attempting to keep her balance and her fingers brush mine. Just out of fucking reach.

There’s something sticking out of the back of my bicep, and it lodges deeper as I hit the ground.

Swinging my leg out, I hit Delilah’s shins.

But I can’t catch her as she falls backwards, away from death, and slams into the stone surface with a crack.

My vision blurs due to the pain and sweat coats my back as I roll on my side to alleviate the pressure of whatever the fuck is burrowing deeper into my muscle.

Delilah slowly turns to face me, wheezing through her cough.

Alive. She stretches her hand out, gripping the hem of my t-shirt as her body shakes.

I can’t move with everything burning. My lungs, my arm, my fucking head.

It’s like being stuck in prison again—as much as I can see the sky, feel the wind, it’s all under somebody else’s control.

The bottom of my arm tingles despite the dead weight as I drag it to sit on the ground in front of me. A wooden stick is lodged into the back of my bicep and the fletching of the arrow is sharp too. It cuts my fingers as I attempt to snap the shaft to stop the arrowhead from being weighed down.

“Don’t,” Delilah croaks. “You’ll lose too much blood.”

Who the fuck has arrows on fucking hand?

I know her family would hunt regularly when we were kids.

Not fucking people though. I’m going to fucking torture her grandfather as soon as I can breathe normally.

Yet it’s not the old man standing at the door we ran through.

No, it’s Anna, frozen to the spot, her eyes fixed straight ahead without any emotion.

She was always quiet, but she was never blank like she is now.

She’d wait until Delilah’s parents weren’t within earshot and tell us stupid jokes or ghost stories.

Now she’s the fucking monster. She just fucking shot me.

Her arms are limp by her sides and the bow lies at her feet.

Helene’s fucking hand is on her shoulder and my long-fucking-lost grandmother scoffs.

“Silly boy. You have one minute before I release the dogs.” She turns and fucks off, taking her archer with her.

My pretty girl stares at me with tears in her eyes. I can’t fix it. Chains rattle, the sound echoing off the walled courtyard, making it louder and hiding the original source. Dread freezes my blood as the rattling is broken up by a chorus of barks.

The crazy old bitch isn’t lying.

“Up,” I urge Delilah, rolling on to my knees. My head is heavier, and my palms scrape against the sandy rock.

The barking gets louder as we drag ourselves up to stand. Delilah, my beautiful Delilah, is breathless and exhausted, but she wraps both of her hands around the arrow sticking out of my arm, applying pressure to the site of the wound. She softly kisses the side of my arm.

Loud clattering comes from our side, directly beside the wrought iron gate, and the barking is even louder. A portion of the stone floor lifts on a hydraulic press, whirring as it slides, revealing a stone cellar. The walls are covered in a mix of colors—dark maroons, browns, and wet patches.

“Fuck!” I shout, pushing Delilah away from it. “Run.”

Four large dogs leap up the stone steps.

I don’t give a fuck if Delilah’s going to be pissed, I press both hands flat to her side and push her with every ounce of strength I possess as the pack of Bully Kutta salivate, racing towards us.

The first dog is quicker than the others as it stands on its back legs at six fucking feet.

The bark is louder than the rest, even more aggressive, and it drops back down to all fours, sending sand flying up around its paws.

Adrenaline takes over and I run, pushing Delilah forward. I manage to get her a few paces in front of me when a shrieking whistle breaks the air, and the barking intensifies.

She whimpers and turns her head as the pack leaps forward.

“Fucking run!” I snap.

She slows.

Why the fuck is she slowing down?

Her cheeks are flushed and her chest heaves as I forcefully slam my right hand between her shoulder blades. My arm is fucked with the arrow twisting with my movements, but the only other option is being mauled.