Page 24 of King of Ashes (Kingdom of Sinners #4)

PHOENIX

I stand before Keira, watching her steely eyes take my measure. The woman I once knew is still in there somewhere, beneath layers of armor she's built against me. Against the world. Against pain.

"I don't expect you to love me again," I say, the words making my heart ache. "But I need this arrangement to work."

Her laugh is sharp, cutting. "And humiliating me in front of your men was your strategy for making it work?"

The memory of last night's dinner flashes through my mind, her in that red dress, my cruel words, the champagne dripping down my face. Shame crawls up my spine.

"I wanted to hurt you." There’s not trying to deny it.

"If you want revenge so badly, why focus on me instead of my father? He's the one who orchestrated everything. He's the one who destroyed your family." Her expression is genuinely puzzled.

Why indeed? Hampton Kean deserves every ounce of my hatred, yet I've been pouring it all onto Keira.

“I suppose it’s because I don’t expect anything different from your parents. But you… you betrayed me.”

"Did I?" Her gray eyes search mine, and I wonder what she’s looking for. The old me, maybe. "Or is it easier to believe I betrayed you than to accept that your father played a part in bringing this on?”

Anger rises. “Don’t you dare blame my father?—”

“He and my father are from the same ilk. Do you think he wouldn’t have killed my parents?”

She’s not wrong, but… “My father was nothing like your father. He’d have never killed innocent people.”

“Maybe not.” She nods, and my rage dials down to a simmer. “But he didn’t approve of us?—”

“He didn’t know about us.”

She gives a small laugh. “He did when my father told him and your father wouldn’t approve of our match.”

I turn away, unable to face the truth. It's easier to hate her. Easier to believe she never loved me. Because if she did, if what we had was real, then I lost something far more precious than I've allowed myself to admit all these years. And my father played a part in it. That’s hard to accept. Could I have changed his mind if I’d told him how much I loved her?

But then I wonder out loud, “How did your father know? Did you tell him?”

She hesitates and looks away. “There wasn’t much I could do then, as now, that someone isn’t reporting it.” She returns her gaze to me. “My father is a terrible man. What he did is unconscionable. But I’m not him. Why do you punish me and not him?”

“You don’t think being locked in the basement is punishment? Would you rather be locked up down there?”

“Yes, I would,” she says without any doubt or hesitation. “Given the choice between being left alone in a quiet cell to being demeaned and humiliated as a sexual object that all your associates probably jerked off to last night, I choose a cell.”

The image her words conjure up make me want to kill every associate who leered at her last night. It burns in my gut that I’m the one who set it up. What sort of fucked up shit is that?

I turn away, running a hand through my hair, unable to face her, to face my shame. The anger that's fueled me for a decade feels different now, heavier, more complicated. It was easier when I could direct it all at her, when I could believe she was just as guilty as her father.

"Do you know why I'm so angry with you?" I ask, not looking at her.

"Because you think I betrayed you."

I face her again. "Because I loved you. Because I would have given up everything for you." The admission costs me something, leaves me feeling exposed in a way I haven't allowed myself to be since I was twenty-one and believed in things like love and loyalty.

"And then your family took everything from me. My parents. My home. My future. And in my mind, you became part of that betrayal because how could they have pulled it off otherwise? Because you didn’t warn me.

" My chest feels tight. "Hate is simpler than grief.

I've been living on hate for a very long time. "

I take a deep breath, steadying myself after this unexpected moment of vulnerability. "I want us to work together in this marriage, Keira. We can build something functional out of this arrangement. Something that benefits us both."

Her eyebrow arches skeptically. "By 'working together', you mean I comply with your demands while you parade me around as your trophy wife?"

"That's not what I meant." But even as I deny it, I recognize the truth in her words. "I need your cooperation?—"

"My compliance," she corrects sharply. "Let's call it what it is."

Frustration builds in my chest. "Fine. Yes, I need your compliance. But that doesn't mean we can't find common ground."

Her eyes flash with irritation. "Common ground? You humiliated me in front of your men and accused me of sneaking around to meet some imaginary lover. And I’ve taken it.

I nearly sucked your dick in front of your men to appease your cruel need for revenge.

What exactly is our common ground, Phoenix? What more do I need to do?"

Her words hit me like ice water. What am I doing? This isn't who I want to be. I don't want a submissive wife who fears me. I want…

The realization comes suddenly. I want what we had before. The partnership. The mutual respect. The trust. The love. Of course, none of that is possible now. Except maybe the partnership.

"Do you remember that summer day at the lake house?" I ask, my voice softening. "When we snuck away from both our families and spent the whole day just talking about what we wanted from life?"

Her expression softens, and it pleases me that at least her memories of us are sweet.

"You said you wanted to travel the world," I continue. "See places your parents would never approve of. And I promised I'd take you everywhere."

"I remember," she says quietly.

"I meant it then. Every word."

She looks at me, really looks at me, for what feels like the first time since I returned.

“I know you did. And I meant all the promises I made to you too. Those feelings didn't just disappear, Phoenix. They're still there, buried under everything else."

Hope blooms in my chest. "Then maybe?—"

"But so is everything you've done since you came back," she interrupts. "The threats. The accusations. You can't erase that by reminiscing about the past."

"Did you ever truly love me, Keira?" The question escapes before I can stop it.

Her eyes narrow. A flush spreads across her cheeks, not embarrassment, but anger.

"Did I love you?" Her voice trembles. "I loved you so much I couldn't breathe sometimes.

I loved you when my parents locked me away to keep me from you.

I loved you when I heard your family had been killed, when I thought you were dead.

" She steps closer, her finger jabbing toward my chest. "I loved you when I cried myself to sleep for months.

I loved you when I had to learn how to live in a world where you didn't exist anymore. "

The raw emotion in her voice strips away my defenses. This isn't the calculated response of someone who betrayed me. This is pure, unfiltered pain. And I know pain.

"Then why didn’t you warn me?” How could she not know something was up?

"I couldn't! They took everything from me—my phone, my freedom. I was a prisoner in my own home! Not much different from now.”

She turns away, wrapping her arms around herself. "Do you know what it's like to hear the person you love most in the world has been killed? To believe for ten years that they're gone forever? And then to have them show up and look at you with nothing but hatred?"

I want to reach for her, but my hands stay at my sides. "If you loved me so much, why didn't you leave after? Why stay with the family that destroyed mine?"

Something flickers across her face, hesitation, fear. It reminds me that she's holding something back.

"It wasn't that simple," she says finally.

"What does that mean? What could possibly keep you here with them?"

She looks at me for a long moment, her gray eyes filled with something I can't quite read.

"Some chains aren't made of metal, Phoenix," she says quietly. "Some are made of love and responsibility."

I step closer, drawn by the vulnerability in her voice. "Tell me. Whatever it is?—"

"No." She shakes her head firmly. "You betrayed me too, Phoenix. You promised me you’d take me away, and you didn’t.”

"If I had known, I would have found a way to you. I would have torn down walls, bribed guards, done whatever it took." The admission costs me something, but standing here with her, seeing the pain etched across her face, I can't maintain the lie that I didn't care.

"We could have had a life together," I continue, stepping closer. "Away from all this. Away from our families and their blood feuds."

Her eyes widen slightly, disbelief mingling with something that looks like hope.

"I used to dream about it," I admit. "A normal life. A home that wasn't built on violence and power. Kids running through hallways without armed guards at every door. I wanted that with you, Keira. Only you."

She gives me a wan smile. “That would have been nice. But that dream is gone.”

“Is it? Maybe it is, but we could still build something.”

She stares at me, and I imagine she’s trying to decide what I want and whether I’m being sincere. I don’t blame her.

“You want children?”

I hadn’t thought about it until this moment, but now I do. Several of them, even knowing I’ve ruined any chance of that. “Yes. I hope that we can make them without your doing it out of a sense of compliance or duty.”

My hand moves of its own accord, fingers brushing against her cheek. She doesn't pull away. Something breaks open inside me, and before I can second-guess myself, I lean in and capture her lips with mine.

This kiss is nothing like our earlier ones. There's no anger driving it, no need to dominate or punish. Just raw need and ten years of buried longing.

To my surprise, she doesn't push me away. Instead, her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt as she pulls me closer.