Page 74 of Wraith (Deviant Assassin #1)

Wild

T he pain medication Dr. Mikkelson gave me creates a hazy barrier between my body and the throbbing in my shoulder, but it can't touch the deeper ache in my chest. I'm propped against pillows in Grandmother's guest room, watching Kiera pace like a caged predator while Blade stands sentinel by the window.

We're all here. We're all breathing. But still, I want more. I want the fragile threads of a relationship we were weaving at the cabin to be real, to grow stronger.

"Stop moving," I tell Kiera, my voice rougher than intended. "You're making me dizzy."

She freezes mid-step, her eyes snapping to mine. The vulnerability there hits me in the gut. My strong, deadly Heathen looks like she's about to shatter.

"I thought you were going to die," she whispers, the words barely audible. "When I saw all that blood..."

Blade turns from the window, his jaw tight. "We both did."

The admission hangs heavily in the air. I know what he means—not just the fear of losing me, but the terror of losing each other. Of this thing between us crumbling before we'd even figured out what it was.

"I'm not going anywhere," I promise, reaching for her hand. She hesitates before taking it, her fingers trembling against mine. "Neither of you are getting rid of me that easily."

Kiera's laugh sounds more like a sob. "You gave up everything. Your badge, your career?—"

"I chose," I interrupt firmly. "I chose you. Both of you. The Bureau was never my real family."

The question carries weight—all the misunderstanding, the hurt, the jealousy that nearly tore us apart before we'd even begun.

"You need to explain," I say firmly, looking at him. "Kiera deserves the truth."

Blade's jaw tightens, but he nods. "Phoenix is my half-sister," he says, watching Kiera's face carefully. "She found me when I had nowhere else to go. But she's not... she never was..."

"I know," Kiera says quietly. "I figured it out tonight. The way she talked about you protected you. It wasn't romantic love." She closes her eyes, shame coloring her cheeks. "I was so stupid. So ready to believe you'd betray me again."

"Not stupid," Blade says roughly. "Scared. We all were."

I study his face, seeing the truth there. "You thought I'd leave. Both of you."

His silence is answer enough.

"Blade." I wait until he meets my eyes. "When I threw away that badge, it wasn't just about choosing Kiera. It was about choosing this—us. All of us."

Something shifts in his expression—surprise, hope, fear—all warring for dominance.

Kiera sinks onto the edge of the bed, her hand still gripping mine. "I killed him," she says suddenly. "I actually killed Zephyr."

The words come out hollow, like she's testing their reality.

"How does it feel?" I ask, because she needs to process this, needs to let it out.

"Empty." She stares at her free hand, the one that held the knife. "I thought I'd feel... victorious. Satisfied. But it's just... empty."

Blade sits on her other side, his presence solid and grounding.

"Because revenge doesn't fill the hole he carved out. It just stops him from making it deeper."

She nods, tears finally spilling over. "Eight years of my life. Eight years of believing lies, of thinking you abandoned me, of being alone..."

"You're not alone anymore," Blade says fiercely. "Never again."

I squeeze her hand. "We're here. We're staying."

She looks between us, and I see the moment her walls finally crack. Not shatter—Kiera's too strong for that—but crack enough to let us in.

"I don't know how to do this," she admits. "How to trust. How to be part of something bigger than just... survival."

"We figure it out together," I tell her.

Blade's hand finds her cheek, thumb brushing away her tears. "One day at a time."

The silence that follows isn't empty, it's full of possibility. Of three people choosing each other despite every reason not to.

"Tell me about Phoenix," Kiera says eventually. "I want to understand."

So Blade does. He tells us about finding out he had a sister, about the DNA test that changed everything. About how she sought him out and has been the only connection to Umber he fully trusted.

"She saw our father in me," he says. "Said I could be his twin. When she dug into my background and found out about the children's home..." His fists clench at the memory. "Our father never knew about me. My mother left me there and disappeared."

Kiera's free hand finds his. "Blade."

"Phoenix became family," he continues. "Actual blood family. When Zephyr fed me those lies about you cheating..." His eyes meet mine, then hers. "I went crazy. Tried to fuck away the pain, the anger. But nothing worked."

"And Sally?" I ask with a small smile, trying to lighten the moment.

His laugh is rusty but real. "Rescued her from a kill shelter. She was supposed to be temporary until Phoenix could find her a home. But she stuck, like the other family I've found."

"You're a softie," Kiera accuses, but there's warmth in her voice now.

"Don't spread that around," he grumbles. "I have a reputation."

The tension in the room shifts, becomes something warmer. More hopeful.

"So what happens now?" Kiera asks.

I look at both of them—my deadly, beautiful Heathen and the man who's become so much more than a rival. "Now we stop pretending this isn't what we all want."

"Which is?" Blade asks, though his eyes say he already knows.

"Us," Kiera says simply. "All three of us. Together."

The word hangs in the air like a promise.

"A throuple," I say, testing how it sounds. "That's quite a proposition."

"Life's too short for half measures," Blade replies, his hand moving to cup the back of my neck. The touch sends electricity down my spine. "I've seen how you look at her. How you look at me when you think I'm not watching."

Heat crawls up my neck. "And Phoenix? The twins?"

"They're already family," Blade says. "This just makes it official." He turns to Kiera. "If you'll have us both?"

Her answer is a kiss that tastes like tears and promises and new beginnings. When she pulls back, she guides my mouth to Blade's. The kiss is different—harder, more challenging—but just as right.

"No more lies," Blade says against my lips. "No more games."

"No more running," Kiera adds.

"Never again," I agree, pulling them both closer. "Just us. Together."

Outside, dawn is breaking over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink. A new day. A new beginning.

In this moment, with their warmth surrounding me, I finally understand what Phoenix meant about family. It's not always what you're born into. Sometimes it's who you choose to build it with.

And I choose them. Both of them. Always.

Blade killed Colton. Kiera killed Zephyr somewhere inside my grandmother’s home. Did our relationship die this morning? No. I’m not fucking giving her… no, them… I’m not giving them up.

My head throbs, a dull ache amplified by each shallow breath I pull in as slowly as I can.

Kiera stands rigid, her back to me, a slash of crimson staining her neck—the aftermath of…

everything . Blade, a coiled spring of barely controlled fury, fixes her with a laser gaze, a tempest brewing beneath his usual composure.

The silence is deafening, punctuated only by my labored breaths.

This isn’t how I envisioned today when we woke tangled together in the safe house this morning.

Ignoring the searing pain in my shoulder, I move to Kiera’s side. Her posture softens and her face becomes a parade of emotions as she looks me over.

“You need a doctor. Esther’s people should be quicker than this,” she worries aloud, but I wave her off.

“We have more important things to worry about.”

“More important than you losing consciousness and bleeding out? I don’t fucking think so.”

I step between them, a buffer in the storm crackling between them. Blade’s gaze flickers to me, concern battling simmering rage—a storm mirroring my own, though I manage to contain it.

“Let’s all just breathe for a moment,” I say, my voice rough, the tremor not from my injury, but from the uncertainty lacing my words.

Kiera turns, her gaze a mixture of exhaustion, defiance, and a vulnerability rarely seen. This raw emotion is far more unsettling than the blood on her hands.

“He’s… dead. It’s over,” she whispers, her hoarse voice resonating with finality, speaking of years of pent-up pain demanding to be dealt with once and for all.

“Yes, that was far too long coming,” Blade rumbles, the single word a low growl vibrating in my chest, echoing the throbbing in my shoulder.

His dark, intense eyes hold concern, a conflict mirroring my turmoil.

Which problem do we tackle first? How do we bring her back to us?

“But it’s not over. Not by a long shot.”

He moves toward her, his eyes softening further, revealing a tenderness I rarely witness, his desire for her burning beneath the surface—raw, fierce as his anger.

He’s showing her how deeply this affects him, and how desperately he needs her.

Given how closed off and lethal she is, the man has balls of steel.

Then again, he’s known her since she was a kid.

“It’s…” Kiera swallows, her voice catching. “It’s a lot, Blade. All of it.”

The weariness in her voice is heartbreaking.

I reach for her hand, threading our fingers together.

I want to pull her into my arms and shelter her, but I’m so unsteady we’d wind up in a heap on the Persian rug.

Her skin is icy beneath my fingertips, a stark contrast to the blood staining her clothes.

It’s a small gesture, but I know she understands when her hand squeezes mine back gently.

“I know,” Blade says softly, waiting.

“It’s like every emotional clusterfuck from an entire decade, crashed into this week.” My Heathen complains and the corner of my mouth tips up a bit at her summation. She’s not wrong.

“Hell yes, it has.” Blade agrees.