Page 181 of Discordant Cultivation

And Kieran—his Kieran—had done this. He protected their home. He defended what mattered.

Vale pressed his lips to Kieran’s hair, breathing him in. Sweat and fear and underneath it the familiar scent that meanthomeandmineandeverything. His hands were still shaking—aftershocks of terror he hadn’t felt since childhood, since the last time his father’s hand had raised and Vale hadn’t yet learned to stop flinching.

You fought for us. You beautiful, brave, perfect creature. You killed for what we have.

Pride swelled in his chest, tangled up with love so fierce it felt like dying. Kieran, who was shy and nervous and sweet, looked at intruders trying to tear them apart and had chosen Vale. Chosen their life together. Chosen to protect what they’d built even when it meant blood on his hands.

I’m going to marry you. I’m going to keep you forever. I’m going to—

”—completely insane, Vale. Whatever you’ve done to him, you’ve made him into a monster. We need an ambulance. We need—”

Alex was still talking. Still breathing. Still existing in the same space as Kieran, after what he’d tried to do.

Something clicked into place inside Vale’s mind, as loud as a lock turning. It was a sound he hadn’t heard inside his body in years. Not since the day he told his parents he was only going to pursue music and they threatened to disown him…

It was an ugly part of him. One he buried in the dirt beneath beautiful things.

The panic receded as his love and adoration for Kieran calcified into something with sharp edges.

“V-Vale?” Kieran’s voice was weak, confused, his eyes fluttering open and closed. “You—you came b-back.”

“Of course I came back.” Vale whispered as a plan formed in his mind. A plan that had nothing to do with love and everything to do with what he was about to do to the man across the room. “I’ll always come back. Tell me what happened.”

“They—they c-came inside.” Kieran croaked. “They said they were h-helping me. Jericho and—and him. They w-wouldn’t leave. I told them to leave but they—”

“LISTEN TO ME!” Alex’s shout was almost commanding. “He killed her! Your precious victim murdered Jericho in cold blood! She was trying to help him and he shoved her down the stairs! You need to call an ambulance, Vale. You need to—”

“Be. Quiet.”

Alex’s mouth snapped shut, some animal instinct recognizing danger even through his pain and fear. Vale turned his full attention back to Kieran. “Keep going, sweetheart. Tell me everything.”

“She kept t-touching me.” Kieran’s voice cracked. “Trying to make me go with them. I just p-pushed her away. I didn’t mean—she f-fell and then he was screaming and I couldn’t think and—” His chest heaved as he choked on a sob. “I didn’t—Vale, I didn’t know what else to d-do. They were going to t-t-take m-me away from you.”

“Shh.” Vale pulled Kieran against his chest, one hand finding his throat with the pressure that always brought calm. “You protected us. You protected our home, our life together. You did exactly what you needed to do.”

Kieran melted into the touch, his ragged breathing beginning to even out. “I was so sc-scared. Scared you’d be angry.”

“Never.” Vale kissed Kieran’s forehead, but his eyes were fixed on Alex across the room. “You’re perfect. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

“You’re praising him for murder,” Alex said, voice cracking with disbelief. “Can you hear yourself? She’s dead! She’s fucking dead because of what you did to him, Vale! This is—this is some kind of sick—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Vale snarled. “You came to my home. You broke into my house while I was gone. You cornered the person I love and tried to take him from me.” He stood slowly, settling Kieran gently against the wall before rising to his full height. “What did you think was going to happen?”

“I thought—” Alex tried to scramble backward, but his shattered leg made movement impossible. “We were trying to help him. She didn’t deserve—”

“No one deserves anything.” Vale crossed the distance between them with measured steps, each footfall deliberate. He grabbed Alex under the arms, hauling him upright despite his screams of agony. The broken leg dragged uselessly as Vale maneuvered him toward the chair—the same seat where Kieran had learned so many lessons about authenticity and surrender.

“No—no, please—” Alex tried to stand, but the bone poking out of his skin slid further away from his flesh, bending at a ninety-degree angle. He screamed and fell back into the chair, panting. “You can’t do this. You can’t—someone will come looking. Jericho’s manager, her family, someone will—”

Vale slapped him as hard as he could.

“Kieran.” Vale called softly. “Sweetheart, can you bring me your guitar and the hood? But if you’re too unsteady, that’s okay.”

“I-I’m okay,” he insisted as he braced the wall. Kieran moved with a wooden gait, still shaky from the seizure but functional enough to follow instructions. He retrieved the guitar and the hood, placing both in Vale’s hands, and stepped back, waiting. He looked lost.

“Now,” Vale said, settling the instrument across Alex’s lap despite his struggles. “You wanted everything Kieran has. You were jealous that I chose him over you. So let’s see what you would have done with the opportunity.” His voice hardened. “Play.”

Alex’s fingers readied on the strings, but they trembled too hard to produce anything other than discordant noise. “I can’t—I can’t think, I can’t—”