Page 139 of King of Pain

“Not water,” I clarify, clearing my throat. “I need something stronger.”

A small, breathy laugh escapes him. “Tequila it is. Seems to be a theme on my apology tour.”

He heads into the kitchen, his movements smooth and deliberate. I track every motion—how he pulls out two glasses, drops a few ice cubes into each, then grabs a bottle from a lower cabinet. He uncaps it, pours a generous amount into both glasses, then opens the fridge and adds a splash of orange juice.

Chance returns, handing me a glass before sinking into the couch beside me. He takes a slow sip from his own before setting it down on the coffee table.

I’m in no mood for slow sips. I take two big swigs, letting the warmth burn down my throat, spreading through my chest. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to steady my breath. When I open them, Chance is watching me carefully, those electric blue eyes filled with apologies, regret, and something else. Something I won’t allow myself to latch onto.

I rub my thumb absently along the side of my glass, then look up at him.

“Okay,” I say, voice steadier now. “Tell me.”

Chance’s shoulders tense slightly, his hands resting on his thighs.

I exhale, gripping my glass tighter. “Tell me everything, Chance.” I shake my head, jaw clenched. “Don’t leave anything out.”

Little G is curled up between us on the floor, his quiet breathing the only sound in the room as Chance finally starts talking. His voice is low, measured, like he’s trying to keep himself together, but I can hear the cracks forming underneath.

“I laid in your arms that night,” he begins, staring into his glass like it holds the memories he’s pulling from. “When I got the call about Ma, I couldn’t do anything but stare at the wall while you held me. I was in too much shock. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Just... nothing.” He exhales sharply through his nose. “Finally, around three in the morning, I slipped out of your arms while you were sleeping. Then I took Little G outside and called Murph.”

I grip my glass, heart hammering. “And?”

Chance lifts his eyes to mine, and what I see there makes my stomach drop.

“Murph found her at the bottom of the basement stairs, Ant.”

The air leaves my lungs in a rush. I shake my head, hands trembling around my glass. “No.”

Chance swallows nervously but keeps going. “The guys we had watching the house heard a commotion, but they had strict instructions to only surveil. If they went in, it would have triggered a full-out war with the Black Crows.”

I cover my mouth with my hand, dread coiling tight in my stomach.

Chance pauses for a moment before continuing, his voice raw. “A couple minutes after the commotion, they saw my father bolt out of the house, get in his car, and tear down the street. That’s when they called Murph.”

His voice wavers, and I instinctively reach out, placing my hand on his knee, rubbing gently in a silent offering of comfort.His muscles are tense beneath my palm, a barely contained storm of emotion threatening to break loose.

Chance lets out a slow, shaky breath before continuing. “Murph got there and used the key I gave him when I left Boston. He searched the entire house before opening the basement door and…” He pauses, pressing his lips together tightly. “And seeing her twisted body at the bottom of the stairs.”

His voice cracks on the last few words, and that’s it for me. Tears spill freely down my face, my chest heaving with silent sobs.

Chance’s eyes soften, and he reaches up, rubbing a thumb gently over my cheek. “Hey, Beautiful, we don’t have to—”

“No.” I cut him off, gripping his knee tighter. “Keep going. I need to hear it all.”

He studies me for a second, then nods, picking up his drink and taking a long sip before pressing forward. “Murph ran to the bottom of the stairs and was careful only to touch the pulse point on her neck.” Chance’s jaw clenches, his throat working as he swallows. “But he already knew she was gone.”

I shake my head. “Oh God. Poor Murph. I can’t imagine.”

Chance nods, staring down at his glass again. “Yeah. He’s still a little messed up about it.”

I nod in acknowledgment. “I bet he is. What happened next?”

Chance scoffs, his face twisting into something bitter. “Well, he didn’t have much choice but to call the cops and he knew exactly how that was going to go.”

I nod in grim understanding. “Because your dad was the captain.”

“Yep,” Chance says, shaking his head. “It took no time at all for them to rule it a tragic accident.”