“Jesus, Dahlia, stop your son,” Draya murmurs, shaking her head while sipping on her glass.
The woman who looks uncomfortable twists her fingers together, her eyes always coming back to mine.
Kohen drops onto the other side of me, taking a long swig of the bottle. He stares at me blankly, void of all emotion. It’s like staring into a machine.
“We share. Did King tell you that?”
“Fuck off, Kohen.” King cuts him with a death glare before we all take our attention back to Delila.
“Personally, I think it’s time we start fighting back toward Patience. This is the first time they have ever tried to actively step on our toes by using one of our own. Nonetheless…”
“Ahhh, yes, let’s talk about little Jack. Where is he?”
King answers quickly, “Dead.”
His father’s eyes go to him. “And was it cleaned properly? I can’t have anything falling back on us. We’ve lived beneath the shadows, quite literally, for decades. I won’t have your dick getting us into trouble.”
“It’s clean,” King clarifies. “He changed teams and went to Patience. Not sure for how long, but I’m gathering it has been a while.”
“Actually, Jack did things to Perse while she was in our care, so I would say that he needed to be weeded out. He and his mom were drug addicts. When they saw an opportunity with Perse, they jumped, knowing that Patience would pay big bucks for a Kiznitch, especially one of the Hendry girls.” They start bickering in the background, so I look to King, finding him watching me. I focus on his soft lips, the dip from his cheekbone, and his perfectly structured nose.
I want this. You. I say.
The fuck you don’t. He replies.
“Where are our brothers anyway?” Delila asks, her eyes flying around the room.
King finally drags his attention away from me and to Delila. “They’re not coming. They’ll agree to whatever I agree to.”
Delila nods. “So it’s settled? We will conduct a plan?”
“Son,” King’s dad interferes. “A word?”
King squeezes my hand and then stands, disappearing with his dad behind the door.
As soon as we’re out of view, Dad turns toward me. “Do you know what you’re doing? Had she not been in the picture, would your decision still be the same?”
I think over his words, though I’m pretty sure I don’t have to think long. I will always do what’s best for Kiznitch—period. It’s why I’m my father’s son, why I will take his place when he passes, because I have no problem making decisions for the families, and most of all mine.
“Yes,” I answer, fishing out my pack of smokes from my back pocket and biting one out. I flip open my Zippo, grinning that I still own it, before blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Like you even have to ask, Pops.”
“Listen.” Dad sighs, and I know what’s coming. The talk about how I stress my mom out and how there has always been bad juju around the Hendry twins because of their witch mother. When I say “witch,” I mean she practiced witchcraft. She called herself a white witch when our parents were younger. People thought they could go to her to be healed, but in actuality, she ended up cursing everyone she touched. I mean, not a real curse, but she let off bad stigma amongst those she touched. It’s one of the reasons why a lot of people who are in Midnight Mayhem steered clear from P when they saw her. They thought she’d—I don’t know—work voodoo on them without even knowing it. When she found out about Dove and P, she became more violent with her evil. “I know she means a lot to you. You four have this twisted little bond—and I blame that on your mother and her poor choice of friends.” My mom was always very close with P’s father. It’s why we were practically raised together. Whether they fucked or not is a different story. You never know in this world. Very rarely do wives and husbands remain in a completely monogamous relationship. “It puts stress on your mother who thinks you will make the wrong decision.”
I roll my eyes, puffing on my smoke. “Mom needs to chill. She’s getting old. She needs a new hobby. She wants my Aston Martin. Well, she can take it.”
Dad laughs, a full throat chuckle after a while, shaking his head. “Man, you boys really are going to be the death of her.”
I shrug. “Is that all?”
“No.” Dad clears his throat. “This King and Persephone thing. It full swing?”
I freeze. I don’t want to say no, but I don’t want to say yes either. “It’s where it needs to be right now.”
Dad searches my eyes, finding the answer he so desperately wanted between the words I didn’t speak. “Well, bring her home for Christmas anyway. I’m sure we are going to have a full table like every year.”
I shrug. “She’d come anyway. Delila has become far too attached.”
“Just Delila?” Dad cocks a brow, just as Delila interrupts us from behind.
“If you’re both done, we’re ready to carry on our discussions.”
We both are still chuckling as I make my way back into the room. I’m halted, momentarily, when my eyes come to P, who is sitting on the sofa, laughing with Kohen. The fuck? Kohen isn’t funny at all. He’s about as funny as The Joker.
I pause, watching as her head tilts back, flashing her teeth and the small dimple in her left cheek. The air shifts between them as P reaches inside of her pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. Kohen’s Joker smile vanishes instantly as he slowly reaches out to take the paper. He nods at her appreciatively before carefully putting it into his pocket. I know how I feel about P, but my feelings toward this one girl have never been the issue. It’s what I would do for her that scares me, and I don’t scare easily.
I slowly sink back onto the sofa beside P, who flops her leg over my lap. I lean back, running my finger over my upper lip and watch her and Kohen talk, moving fluidly through their conversations. When Delila calls for our attention, Kohen turns around and winks at me over his shoulder.
Fucker.
I trust my brother to an extent, but I don’t trust anyone with P, much less him.
“So, it’s settled.” Delila claps her hands. “We will conduct a plan to take back the power they think they have.”
“And what’s that?” my mom says, ignoring everyone. My mother is like the Dark Queen. No one pushes her boundaries but my brother, my father, and me. Everyone else cowers in her presence, and with good reason. There are some pretty rough stories that float around about my mother and her attaining my father’s attention.
Delila grins. “Well, I think we cage all their best acts. How about we start there?”
“So close to Christmas?” Maya asks, her eyebrow cocked. “That’s a bit rough. Even for you, Mother.”
Delila sneers at her, before addressing us again. “Because it’s Christmas. I’m feeling… light.”
“I have a better plan,” Maya says, leaning forward on her elbows. “We put someone in that they don’t know is with us.”
I freeze.
Delila snaps at Maya. “They know you’re Mayhem, Maya. Stop talking. All that weed is going to your brain.”