Page 135 of Kill for a Kiss

We’re all dressing up in black for the gala, but it feels more like we’re preparing for a funeral. Clo’s, to be precise.

Stan claps his hands suddenly, the sound too loud in the charged air. “Alright, lovebirds,” he says, rather cheery for the tension in the safe house. “I got a surprise.”

Before I can even lift my head, I hear that familiar sound that hammers my heart. It’s a faraway roar of an engine, coming closer, crawling up my spine like a memory I almost can’t catch. But this time, I do. I know all too well who’s heading this way. His motorcycle’s cutting through the road as rapidly as a bullet.

Soon enough, the front door swings open. A figure steps inside, rain clinging to his coat. The black helmet on him almost seems too large for a blink. Because in that heartbeat, I don’t see the man. I see the sixteen-year-old I carried from the fire. The boy I refused to leave behind. But that was then.

This is now. Lix—my baby brother—is twenty now, walking his own path through everything that tried to break him. In another blink of an eye, the world pulls tight and breathless.

Then he tugs the helmet off and my heart stops. Auburn hair frames his face, long enough to line his jaw. His eyes, blue and wide, lock onto mine. My breath falters. But tears well up, blurring myvision, and a smile finds my lips before I can stop it, spreading warm across my cheeks.

Lix. The boy from my broken memories, standing in front of me, fully grown and rougher around the edges. But it’s still him. He’s still every bit of the brother I remember.

He’s alive. He’s here. After everything we endured together. After all the things I’ve only started to remember—our cruel mother, our silent father. Our family home that was supposed to keep us safe, but trapped us in nightmares instead. He made it out. And somehow, so did I.

Stan throws his arms out wide toward my brother. “Lix, you magnificent bastard! Where’s the big gun you usually lug around? Or are you just packing heat someplace else?”

Lix barely glances at him. His gaze stays on me instead, as if he’d been looking for me forever.

Without thinking, I walk over to him. My legs carry me across the room before the rest of me can catch up.

Our bodies crash in an embrace. He wraps his arms around me with such force that I stagger into it. I press my face into his rain-damp coat, breathe in the storm still clinging to him, and hold on. He’s so much taller than I remember, so much lighter then too. My tears slip freely now. And when his shoulders begin to tremble, I know he’s crying as well.

Behind us, Stan clears his throat loudly. “If you two keep breaking my heart like this, I’m gonna start charging you both for my therapy bills,” he jokes. “I hear the rates are criminally high.”

I laugh and Lix’s answering chuckle rumbles through his chest like thunder learning how to whisper.

When I pull back to see his face again, he beams at me. And in that moment, I know that no matter what happens tonight, no matter what we lose or win, we’re not alone anymore. Not him. Not me.Not any of us.

I step back so we can both breathe, and that’s when Stan sidles in with a grin that can only mean trouble. “If you’re done hogging the hot one,” he says to me, then flashes a pointed look at Lix, “I call dibs. I’ve got a thing for lethal cuties who know their way around bikes.”

Lix gives him a skeptical look. I laugh again and wipe the tears off my cheeks with the sleeve of the oversized sweater I’m wearing. It’s Sterling’s, of course. When I look up, my eyes find him.

Sterling stands a few feet away, arms crossed, back straight. A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. The rare kind he thinks I never see. But I do. I always do. And I know what he’s thinking. He was there that night. He saw me stumble out of a burning house with a boy in my arms, soot-covered and refusing to let go. Sterling’s been carrying that memory for me all this time.

The weight of it all swells in my chest, and I grip the back of a nearby chair just to stay upright. Sterling crosses the space between us, quick but quiet. His hand settles at the small of my back, grounding me. “You okay?” he whispers, low and rough.

I nod and smile at him, soft and full.

Kaye breezes past, giving my back a gentle pat, then tosses a towel at Lix’s head. “You’re dripping on the floor, new guy. Dry off before Stan starts serenading you.”

Stan clutches his chest. “Excuse me. I was going to offer him a night of fun. But now the mood’s ruined.”

Lix snorts but runs the towel he’s caught through his dripping hair.

The safe house feels fuller and warmer now with my brother here, as though another piece has finally clicked into place.

I lean into Sterling’s side, and he leans on me just as easily like we were always meant to fit this way. Whatever’s waiting for us tonight, we’ll face it altogether.

A moment later, we gather around the table. Everyone’s dressedin black, masked and armed in our own way. And I understand now, what masks really mean. Why Sterling kept his on for so long. How he must’ve felt—must still feel—since I’ve resurrected his first mask back to life. As he tries on the repaired one, it doesn’t hide him. It reveals the strength he’s always had.

Damon leans over the table, voice steady, fingers precise as he taps the blueprints of the Song-Smith estate. “Entry points are here and here. Kaye and Stan will draw attention. Lix, you’re Clo’s right hand. You play the part until we say otherwise.”

Lix nods, posted up against the wall.

“Your job is to stay close to her,” Damon says, leveling his gaze at him, “Feed us every move she makes.”

Lix meets his gaze, calm and clear, eyes as serene as the sea. “Won’t be a problem.”