Page 92 of Kill for a Kiss

I pause for a breath too long.

Stanley’s eyes grow huge. “Oh my god. Damon doesn’t know?”

“No.”

“No, he doesn’t know,orno, you’re not gonna answer that?”

“Yes.”

“Sterling. You’re the worst.” He groans dramatically. “This is why you disappeared for years and left me with nothing but Clo, an inferiority complex, and the world’s most traumatic Christmas memories.”

I smirk. “You’re not owed the whole truth just because you finally showed up.”

He scoffs. “Oh, okay. So now I need to earn your tragic backstory access card? Aftersharing a woman with you?”

My smirk drops. My voice is a warning. “Stan.”

But he grins. His shoulders lower. We’re both realizing I just called him by his nickname for the first time in our lives. I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Elle bonded us for life now,” he says, with his shit-eating grin. “But you’restillkeeping the good gossip to yourself?”

I sigh and rub my temples. “You’re a goddamn pest.”

“Yeah, well. I’m alsodyingto know who dad knocked up and created my most emotionally constipated brother. Your competition’s Damon, by the way, but you take the cake.”

I say nothing and let him squirm. My smirk pulls at my lips again when he sighs, frustrated.

He narrows his eyes. “You’re smirking.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s aguilt-smirk, and I know because I do it all the time.”

He’s practically trembling now, ready to demand answers until dawn, I’m sure. So I give him something else. “Damon got married.”

Stan stops. His mouth opens, closes, then opens wide. “What?!”

I almost laugh.

“Damon?Married?” he screeches, full theater-level dramatics. “When did he ever say he wanted to settle down? Did the bride lose a bet?”

“He’s on his honeymoon,” I say, point-blank.

“Oh,that’swhy he’s disappeared?” Stan raises his brows. “Okay, wow. Amazing. Beautiful. Truly, everything I believed about the universe is crumbling.”

I let the quiet settle. Stan busies himself by putting together anotherstick of meat.

Stan doesn’t know everything. That I’ve been desperate to solve this. That I’ve tried every route. Let him keep Elle while I burned Clo’s operations to the ground. That I kept tabs through my contact. Stan doesn’t know that I’ve tried contacting Damon. Numerous times with no response. Not surprising. He’s in his honeymoon in fucking seclusion. Probably sipping champagne while the rest of us rot. That’s when it hits me.

Damon. His comms have been down this whole time. Off the grid’s not like him, even if love can change a man like it did me. And Damon getting married in a goddamn day? That should’ve been a red flag from the start. It was by design. Clo made her move. Isolated Damon, distracted Stan, kept me away, or she fucking thought.

But Clo’s claws dig deep into too many people. She’s the one who always knew where Damon was. Knew his patterns. His strengths. Hisweaknesses. The timing of the marriage. The distracting bride.Everything. My jaw tightens. Cloplannedit all. And while Damon’s off honeymooning in some off-grid corner of the world, Clo’s cutting off the comms on purpose, so she can rise from the ashes. But not this time, not if I can help it.

Stan nearly chokes on the last bite of meat he’s still gnawing on. “Okay, I can’t get this out of my head. I have to know, who thehellmarried Damon?”

I look up, deadpan. “Kayla Knight.”

Stan goes completely still. Then he explodes. “Kaylafuckin’Knight?!” he yells, throwing what’s left of his skewer into the fire. “The literaldaughterof Lukas and Naomi Knight?ThatKayla Knight?!”

“The one and only.”