Page 35

35

GARETH

“ H ow long will you keep following me?”

Simone and the guy stop in their tracks as I turn around to face them.

I mostly ignored them over the past few days when they shadowed me on my walks or errands or when I was shooting arrows.

But now, I’m annoyed.

Or too stuffed.

Or just murderous.

At any rate, I’m in desperate need of a distraction.

The wind blows along the edge of the lake near my parents’ house, pushing strands of hair into my eyes. I should cut it.

And maybe carve out my goddamn heart while I’m at it.

The guy takes a few steps back, clearly deferring to Simone, signaling she’s in charge. It’s not like I’d get much out of him anyway.

They delivered Medusa to the Heathens’ mansion, conveniently missing the dashcam memory cards—likely Declan’s doing, covering his tracks. Not sure why he took the interior camera’s card, though.

Simone also asked if I wanted to see Moka. As much as I want to, she’s with Kayden, and I’ve made a vow never to see that man again.

And I won’t.

Because I’m moving on.

I have to.

Next week, I’ll be back on the island for school. With an ocean between us and his absence as my professor, I’ll be fine.

I have to be.

“Join me, Simone.” I motion to the bench overlooking the lake and sit on the hard wood.

The fact that I no longer wince when sitting should bring some comfort. It doesn’t. It only stretches the emptiness wider.

Sure, I can go to some BDSM club and find someone to get me off. But I don’t think it’s necessarily about the pain for me. It’s the person who inflicts it.

Besides, I would never, and I mean never give someone else power over me.

Kayden was the exception, and he stomped all over me.

Simone hesitates before joining me, standing a few feet away with her hands clasped behind her like a soldier.

“Can’t you stop following me?” I sigh.

“No. I’m under strict orders to ensure your safety. Declan is still out there, and until we find him, you’re a target.”

“My family can afford bodyguards.”

“Not as good as me, Mr. Carson.”

“Call me Gareth. The ‘Mr. Carson’ thing gives me PTSD from when you pretended to be my PI.”

Her expression falters, and something like guilt flashes in her eyes. “I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I’m sorry for lying. And for what it’s worth, Boss only kept up the pretense because he wanted to hold on to the illusion a little longer.”

My chest tightens, and I fix my gaze on the lake, where couples paddle boats as the sun paints the water in fiery hues of orange and red.

I exhale slowly, the breath dragging out of my lungs like a curse. “Pretty sure he just wanted to extend the torture. To make me pay for your mistress’s death.”

“Mrs. Davenport was never my mistress, and I’m positive he gave up on revenge not long after he met you.”

Mrs. Davenport. Cassandra. The woman who had his last name.

My skin prickles as I stare ahead, willing the smiling couples to distract me. But all I want to do is drown them in the lake. Hold their heads under the water like I did Gilbert. Feel their struggles, their gurgling screams, until they go still.

Why the fuck are they smiling so much?

“You don’t have to believe me,” Simone continues. “But he never looked at her the way he looks at you.”

“Naturally. He loved her, and I was just a toy.”

Her head shakes. “It’s the other way around.”

I laugh, sharp and bitter. “Do you get a bonus for trying to sell me on his bullshit?”

“Mr. Carson…Gareth.” She hesitates. “Deep down, you know it’s not bullshit. He killed all his previous targets immediately, after torture. He would’ve never kept you around—let alone been…intimate with you—if he planned to kill or hurt you. He’s been a wreck since you left, burying himself in work and smoking himself to an early grave.”

Didn’t he quit smoking? He had, after I told him I hated the smell.

“Has he been in pain?” I run a finger over the bracelet I should’ve thrown away but couldn’t.

“Immense pain.”

“More than when Cassandra died?”

“He wasn’t in pain then. Just enraged.”

“He’d have to feel pain to be enraged.”

“Not him. For him, they’re distinct emotions.” She pauses. “He flew to the UK to retrieve your cat and some of his belongings. One of my men said he found a bowl of rotting strawberries and stared at it for twenty minutes.”

I tighten my fingers around the bracelet, then release it.

Fuck him.

I haven’t touched a strawberry since I left. Can’t swim, watch TV, or even study without seeing him everywhere.

In everything .

He’s like a curse, embedded in my bloodstream.

And because I can’t help myself, I ask Simone more questions, probe further, and dig deep into Kayden Davenport, who’s entirely different from Kayden Lockwood but somehow the same.

She tells me about his parents, his dad, in particular, about his moms and why they were banished and what he had to do to protect them. She talks about Grant, the slimy bastard, and Cassandra. About their open, arranged marriage, which surprises me a bit, because he kind of loses his shit when he sees me with someone else.

I listen to Simone talk in a steady voice, not mincing her words but apologizing when she curses. She tells me about Vencor and what he had to do to be in it. I’m not sure why she feels confident enough to tell me about some sort of a secret society, but maybe it’s because she feels guilty for lying, and now, she wants to make up for it.

Or maybe this is a ploy from Kayden, but I doubt he’d ever want me to know about this. That man is like a vault, really. He keeps all different compartments of his life separate.

His resistance to the Taser and the drug I injected him with makes sense now that I hear about all the poison and pain-endurance training he had while growing up.

And I’m having this tingling urge beneath my skin, the one I always had about others hurting what’s mine. I have it toward his dad and Vencor.

And this Julian, who’s the reason why Kayden’s vision grows bad sometimes and why he had that fever and was coughing. It’s why he had that ‘accident’ after which his moms visited. In reality, he had a major immune system attack. Apparently, Kayden’s been doing these off-the-record drug experiments for his pharmaceutical company.

Apparently, the lavender I remember smelling in his apartment in the first few weeks I knew him is Cassandra’s scent. I don’t know whether I should laugh or cry that he did stop having that scent in the house right after the time I walked in on him in that ice bath.

I think I fall asleep with a frown between my brows after Simone tells me Vencor is the reason he can’t be in a relationship with a man. That they’d kill him if they found out about me.

Who the fuck are they to decide whether he should be with a man or an alien?

Fucking assholes.

A part of me wants to scream. Another wants to kill them all, one by one, and fill the void with their blood.

Long, lean fingers thread through my hair, their touch familiar, deliberate. His amber scent fills the air, curling into my lungs, and his warmth seeps into my bones, warding off the ever-present chill in my chest.

He always feels so warm in my dreams. His touch soothing. His presence grounding. It’s as if I can almost feel his heartbeat under my fingertips, steady and alive.

For someone desperate to get over him, I surely sleep a lot, as if chasing fragments of him in the recesses of my mind. To lose myself in the echoes of his touch. To steal fleeting moments where I lay my head on his lap and watch TV, back when things felt simpler.

“He’s lost weight.”

His voice, hoarse yet deep, slices through the haze of sleep. His fingers feel more solid, more real. Careful, hesitant.

My heart jolts.

But I don’t move. I remain still, breathing evenly, holding on to the fragile figments of my dream.

“Are they even feeding him properly at home?”

The tenor of his voice rings in my ear and rushes to my starving heart.

His fingers burn against my scalp, not in a painful way, but in a way that ignites every nerve in my body. The good kind of burn. The kind I’ve been fantasizing about every night when I close my eyes.

“Are you going to pick a fight with his parents if they aren’t?” Simone’s voice cuts through the moment.

And that’s how I know.

It’s not a dream.

She’s never in them.

Only him.

So he’s here. Right here . Sitting beside me, my head resting on his thigh. My fingers twitch involuntarily, and he catches them, lifting my hand to inspect the Band-Aids covering them.

I should open my eyes and tell him to leave. To stop invading my space, my mind, my everything.

But then he brings my hand to his cold lips, pressing a kiss to each finger. My entire body shivers, and I know that if I open my eyes, I’ll fall back into bad habits.

Namely, him.

“You better not pick a fight,” Simone says, her tone sharp. “Pretty sure his dad, grandad, and brother want to kill you on sight.”

“And what did Gareth say?”

He keeps kissing my fingers, the roughness of his voice warming me along with the heat radiating from his body.

“He told them not to,” Simone replies dryly. “Said he’d do it himself.”

“I knew he loved me.”

“Loves to kill you, more like,” Simone mutters, and I want to high-five her from across the bench.

“They’re one and the same with him,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my fingertips one last time before lowering my hand to my chest.

The absence of his touch leaves my skin cold.

“Is he hurting himself or showing signs to?” he asks, his voice dipping into something darker, quieter.

“Not that I noticed,” Simone replies.

A slight tremor passes through his hand, still buried in my hair. It’s so faint, I wouldn’t have caught it if he weren’t touching me.

“Pay more attention, Simone. Nothing happens to him, clear?”

“Worry about yourself. You look like the walking dead.”

I want to open my eyes and see him. The last image I have of him is the sadness in his eyes and the resolve to die as he offered me his life.

And I hate that image.

It’s not him.

Not my Kayden.

Not that he’s mine. Or anything.

My body stills, as if time itself holds its breath when his lips meet my forehead.

The soft, lingering press is a quiet invasion, tender and almost reverent. His shaky breaths and the gentle careful touch speak louder than words ever could.

His breaths are warm against my skin, ghosting over me in shallow whispers, like the slow exhale of a reality he couldn’t maintain.

That ache returns to my chest, and the weight of what he made me lose hangs between us like forbidden fruit.

“I’m sorry, my little monster.” The deep rumble of his apology slides over my skin, barely touching the air and pressing against my chest.

And then he’s gone.

Taking my heart with him.

Today, I’m going back to the island.

For the pesky thing called school.

I’ve kind of lost interest in that. I’ve lost interest in many things, actually.

I think I underestimated how disruptive the void can be.

How it can deepen and widen and demand vengeance.

I also haven’t been able to stop thinking about when Kayden held my head on his lap and kissed my forehead.

That was five days ago.

I’ve been wondering how many times he came over when I was asleep. And I’ve been beating myself up for not opening my eyes and talking to him.

I should’ve given him a piece of my mind. Asked him if I made him feel sick whenever he touched me, knowing he should’ve killed me.

Cursed him.

Choked him.

Just… looked at him.

Because I’m starting to hate my life without him in it.

And for some reason, I don’t recall how I used to be before he came along. Or don’t want to recall.

The crisp air bites at my face as Mom adjusts the collar of my jacket, her hands trembling slightly. “You should stay with us a little longer,” she insists, her voice soft but resolute. “You’re not completely healed yet.”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

My injuries are now hidden beneath Band-Aids, and though the stitches remain, they’ll come out soon enough. And then I’ll be left with scars the shape of fucking Kayden.

“My point still stands.” Mom hugs me and I have to lower myself so she can wrap her arms around my neck. “I love you, darling. You know that, right?”

“I do.” I pat her back. “Love you, too, Mom.”

She steps back, dabbing at her eyes, and Dad instinctively draws her into his side, his strong, silent presence grounding her. She has the kind of beauty that stops people in their tracks, a rare, ethereal kind that I inherited in its male form.

“Take care, Glyn, honey.” Mom hugs Glyn. “I’m going to miss you boys,” she murmurs, embracing Kill next, who, unsurprisingly, refused to leave until I do.

Clingy.

Not sure what type of conversation he had with Dad, but he’s been looking at me weird. As if I’m an entirely different person that he can’t wait to dissect.

Last night, he came into my room while I was going through old pictures I took of Kayden when he wasn’t paying attention. What? I didn’t mean to. I kind of…feel too empty. I just needed to recharge for ten minutes.

It ended up being an hour.

Until Kill interrupted me.

Mom and Glyn were in the kitchen, so without his two favorite people on earth, he probably decided to annoy me.

Kill sits beside me on the bed, his shoulder to mine as he stares at the large window overlooking the garden. “Do you really resemble me more than you resemble Dad?”

“Dad told you?”

“Yeah. But Grandpa hinted at it several years back. He said something like ‘Remember, you always have your brother. You’re more alike than you realize.’ I thought he was trying to build some stupid brotherly shit. I never thought it was because he knows you better than anyone else does.”

“He helped cover up murder for me.”

He tilts his head in my direction, his eyes lighting up. “How did it feel?”

I lift a shoulder. “Euphoric, but only for a few minutes, though. Then it was just…the void again.”

“Is that…why you never killed again? Because the void came back so fast?” There’s a strange deepness to his voice, an eagerness almost. This is the side I share with Killian. If he hadn’t been such an outward person who loved advertising his neurodivergence, I would’ve been more comfortable talking to him.

It’s not really about the threats he regularly made. That was his way to demand my attention since I usually ignored him. It’s that, despite our similarities, I’m more private than he is and don’t enjoy having others’ noses in my business. I also despise how he can hurt Dad.

I don’t like that.

But now, the words just spill out. “It’s because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop if I started, and someone as beautiful as myself isn’t made for prison.”

He bursts out laughing. The sight is so curious. He looks so happy. Ecstatic. His shoulders vibrate, and he even wipes the corners of his eyes.

I’ve honestly never seen Kill this happy, not even when we were kids.

“What?” I pout. “I am beautiful.”

“I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“That you thought yourself to be more beautiful than me.”

“That’s because I am. You might be the mama’s boy, but I’m the one who got her looks.”

“And I got Dad’s.” He wiggles his brows.

I slam a hand to his face and push it away. “Fuck off, asshole.”

“Wow. Were you always this petty?”

“Damn straight. I’m the petty king, so shut the fuck up, Kill.”

“I’ve been missing out. Pity” He chuckles again, then ruffles my hair like I used to do to him when we were young. “I feel the same, though.”

“About?”

“Not killing because I wouldn’t be able to stop.” He grins. “Lucky for me, I found Glyn. She tames my demons and fills up that void.”

“Ha. No need to brag. I found someone too—” I bite my lower lip because I didn’t.

I haven’t.

Kill has Glyn by his side, and I have no one to calm the raging emptiness gnawing at my insides.

I’m glad Kill doesn’t push. Instead, he kept talking. Which is the most I’ve heard him talk, and that kind of distracts me. Even if only for a while.

Back to the present, after promising Dad and Grandpa that I’ll keep in touch, Kill and I head to the car. Glyn walks ahead, chattering on the phone with her mom. She’s been hovering ever since I got back, either out of worry or because Kill won’t let her out of his sight

I glance around, frowning. Simone is nowhere to be seen.

She’s always by the door.

Isaac, her silent shadow, is also missing.

Weird. I’ve grown used to them tailing me, and I don’t entirely hate it. Simone, at least, has been apologetic about her PI stint and answers every question I throw at her.

Over the past few days, I’ve learned more about the Davenport side of Kayden. About his dual life—balancing working from the London office, trips to the States, and teaching.

Because he didn’t want me to get suspicious.

Simone says it’s mostly because he wanted to be close to me, but she’s biased.

“So you’re going to let him get away with it?”Kill’s voice cuts through my thoughts as he stops near the car.

I drag my gaze to him.

Aside from last night’s conversation, he’s been asking all sorts of stupid questions. Like, when am I going to punish the asshole for messing with me? When do we start?

He said he’d help since he has time now and can consider it.

Hot and cold kind of runs in the family.

“It’s unlike you to let things go,” he continues. “Just saying.”

“What do you know about what’s like or unlike me?”

“Not much, admittedly,” he says, leaning casually against the car. “But I’m relearning. I should’ve known when you gave me that tip about emulating others. You always had that disgustingly fake smile. I had my suspicions, but you fooled me for years. I’m impressed.”

“Impressing you is not on my to-do list.” My eyes sweep the area again. Where the hell are Simone and Isaac?

Does their mission end today now that I’m leaving? Though that doesn’t really make sense.

I’m under more of a threat on foreign soil, right?

“It should be,” Kill retorts. “As should making sure Kayden doesn’t get off easily.”

“Seriously, why do you care?”

“He’s the girl ”—he air quotes—“you were humming about, right? Except he’s not a girl.”

My jaw tightens. “And what if he is? Are you about to drop some god-awful gay joke?”

“Nah, I’m all about fluidity. Though I am a little bummed you’re a bottom.”

“Who the fuck says I am?”

“So you are ?” He sighs dramatically. “RIP, my ego. Dad and Grandpa would have a stroke.”

“Killian, I swear to fuck I’m going to cut you?—"

“My point is.” He grips my shoulder. “If you want him, keep him. And if something stands in the way, simply eliminate it.”

He walks ahead of me to the car and I stare for two beats. My phone vibrates and I pull it out.

Simone

Declan is taken care of. You’re safe, Gareth.

What does this mean? That they’ll stop being here?

All of them?

I press Call and put the phone to my ear, then speak as soon as she picks up. “You could’ve at least said goodbye.”

“I apologize. I left in a rush.”

My fingers twitch. Her voice sounds off.

My teeth graze my lips. “What’s wrong, Simone?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” I breathe harshly. “Something is wrong. Tell me. Now.”

“It’s that… Screw this. When we captured Declan and tortured him, he managed to have one of his men send a video to a Senior member of the organization. And although Kayden killed Declan, he couldn’t stop the footage from spreading.”

“What footage?”

“From your dashcam. It captured the two of you…kissing. Among other things.”

My fingers tighten around the phone. “Is he… Did they…”

“He’s fine. We managed to send him into hiding, but we’re not sure how long we can be on the run. I’m looking into options to get him off US soil for now.” She pauses. “Fortunately, your face wasn’t visible, so you’re safe, Gareth. Kayden forbade me from telling you anything. He wants you to go back to school and live your life normally.”

My chest expands in painful breaths.

Fuck what he wants.

Fuck him.

As Simone keeps talking, her words blur together. All I can hear is the truth staring me in the face.

I’ll never have a normal life again.

Not after Kayden Davenport tore my delusions of normalcy to shreds.