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CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

NASH

After what happened with Turner, the instinct to hold my daughter was overwhelming. Thankfully, she let me.

I went there to check on Alena and grovel for Vale. I was ready to beg for forgiveness, but I found the guard slain at the bottom of the villa steps. Then I caught Turner raising his bloody knife to Vale … so I killed for them instead.

Afterward, all the kings stormed the condo while Alena and Vale huddled together. I got them out of there before Axel and Sire took care of the body and Jace cleaned the scene. Loch, Nick, and Grant swept the resort for more of Turner’s men and found none.

And me?

The need to comfort Vale was overpowering, too, but furiously, she pushed me away.

“I don’t know how I feel about all this,” she hissed, shaking her head, reluctant to get in my car. “About this life. About you.”

“Sometimes you have to think, not feel.” I fought back, explaining, “You survive in the moment and feel later. That’s the life we lead. We protect each other. We kill for each other. You’re in shock. You’ll know how to feel about it later.”

Then I raised a brow. I wasn’t leaving her. “Now get in my fucking car,” I snarled.

We had come full circle to the night this all started.

Alena said she wanted the solace of her apartment on Folly Island, and I wouldn’t leave her side, either.

It’s been a week, and Vale has stayed with her, too, but her silent treatment is killing me. I need Vale’s smart-ass snark. That’s when I’ll know she’s okay.

And my daughter? A hundred times, Alena’s told me she’s fine. Turner didn’t hurt her; he only enraged her. Lucky for him, he’s at the bottom of the Atlantic, where she can’t shoot him.

That was my job.

Thinking about how Turner touched my daughter. How he almost assaulted and killed her. How I can see the raw scab healing at the base of Vale’s scalp, where that fucker grabbed my woman, too…

I want to retrieve Turner’s corpse and gnash his fucking neck open, killing him all over again. Fifty times wouldn’t be enough.

Loch shares my rage. He’s here, too. He sits by Alena’s front door. She won’t speak to him, and he won’t leave.

It’s a stalemate of stubborn love, and part of me enjoys the irony; Alena and Loch are just like me and Vale. The more our women resist our love, the more we fight for it.

I don’t regret ordering Loch to protect Alena.

Yeah, I was furious when he fell in love with her, too. And don’t get me started on him calling her “babygirl.” I want to crack his skull every time he says it. No father wants to hear that shit.

But now? I’m thankful that he loves her, that he’s fighting for her.

I knew this secret would explode in our faces one day, but we’re so used to keeping them. We’re so used to protecting each other.

Sure, the truth will set you free in most worlds, but not in this one. The truth is lethal in our world. Sometimes, you have to hide it so it won’t hurt the ones you love.

It’s the only thing I regret—hurting Alena and Vale. But I’m man enough to wait for their forgiveness.

With my daughter, it won’t take long.

With my poison? Well … she is breathtaking when she’s pissed as hell. It turns me on when she rolls her eyes.

This life is a lot to take. I get it.

People think it’s like what you see on the screen or read in a book. But once you see it, smell it, feel it? You cross over. There’s no return to innocence. Turner’s violence was a bloody wake-up call for Vale. It’s what I warned her about, so I’ll wait for her to come around.

Because I meant it; like hell if I’ll ever leave her.

Nadine visits. The other queens don’t.

Alena doesn’t know about them yet. That whole side of our story feels too cruel to tell her right now. She has enough to process, but the other kings come by. They check on her from afar, but she doesn’t want to see them, either. She needs time; we understand.

And Vale? She talks with Jace and no other king. I watch them on Alena’s balcony. Jace wraps his arm over Vale’s shoulder, and I’m shocked because I’m not jealous. I’m grateful.

Now, I understand our tradition. Jace is truly her second king. He’s fighting for us. He’s fighting to keep me and Vale together.

“That’s it!” But it’s the eighth day, and Alena storms out of her bedroom where she’s hidden with Vale, her camping backpack slung over her shoulder. “Peace out, everyone. I’m going back to work.”

I rise from the sofa, and Loch jolts from his chair. “I’m going with you,” he insists, and she shrugs.

“Go to hell. Go to work. Your choice.”

“Alena!” I bark. “He’s here, fighting for you.”

“No, he’s here because you command it.”

“My brothers can’t command me to do a damn thing I don’t want to,” Loch seethes, grabbing his keys. “You go. I go. Always.”

Alena struggles, her eyes welling with tears. “But I can’t breathe when I see you,” she chokes. “You make me remember everything, but it was all a lie. And I don’t want the guys at work to know, to see me cry, and if you’re there, you make it too hard.”

“But what about our cabin?” He pleads, “Alena, I love you. It’s not a lie. Just give us a chance.”

“It became my cabin when you decided to lie,” she answers furiously. “Go find your own.”

I shrug at Loch and let him read my eyes. “Put on your big boy boxers. She’s going to give you a helluva fight.”

She turns back, rushing to hug Vale, standing by her packed luggage. They whisper, and I’d pay anything to know what they share because Vale sadly shakes her head before Alena softly pecks her cheek.

Then, she crosses the room toward me. “See ya, Dad.” Her arms snare my waist.

Kissing her russet waves, I wrap around her and beg, “Please let Loch go with you. He needs to protect you.”

“I can protect myself,” she mutters. “I don’t need him.”

“But he needs you .”

She rises on her toes, whispering in my ear, “Like you need Vale, and I need a little sister. Get her back, Dad, then I’ll forgive you.”

It’s the hardest thing, letting my daughter go. It’s the warmest thing, watching Loch follow her.

After they leave, the apartment door yawns open. The sunlight spilling in illuminates the awkward silence between Vale and me.

Without a word, she collects her phone and handbag.

“Where are you going?” Because I’ll follow her, too.

“Atlanta.” Her tone is dead. “I’m going with Stacey. We’re helping my sister move.”

“I’ll go with you.”

She whips my way. “You’ll give me space. You’ll leave me alone.”

“Space? Yes. Leave you?” I vow, “Never.”

“Great.” She rolls her eyes, grabbing her suitcase. “You’re going to be a hemorrhoid. Like a giant pain in my ass.”

Oh, what I want to say about loving her ass, but I like breathing.

So, I trail behind her, admiring it while she storms down the stairs, clunking her suitcase behind her.

I follow Vale and let her see I mean it. For days, I shadow her from Charleston to Atlanta and back. And for days, she flips me off every time she sees me.

I give her space for another week while she returns to work.

I know my poison. She’s processing. She’s all up in her head. It’s warring with her heart, and only a stupid man steps into that line of fire.

So I sit in my car, parked across from Delta’s, watching Vale’s silhouette through the window when Jace calls, worried.

“She’s being nice and quiet,” he whispers, “and it’s all wrong. You have to do something.”

“I will.” Or a fearless man. Or one in love. Yep, here I go, stepping into Vale’s war— okay, because I started it —while I answer him using my Bluetooth.

I see Jace pacing the porch outside, his phone pressed to his ear.

“Just answer me something.”

“What?” he grunts.

I’ve been wanting to ask him. Ever since Vale’s initiation, I feel connected to Jace. Like he’s in pain, and I can feel it, too.

“What about you? What’s wrong with you and don’t bullshit me. I know it’s something.”

“What’s wrong with any man?” He huffs, “Love.”

It’s not Vale. I know it. Jace doesn’t burn with furious passion and insane urges like I do for her. Yes, Jace would kill for her, too, but he doesn’t live for Vale as I do.

It’s someone else.

“Who?”

“She’s married,” he answers. “End of story.”

No, it’s not.

Marriage is when many stories begin.