Zane, especially, can’t hide his tears.
“When?” Dutch growls, but his voice is thick and raspy. Is he about to cry too?
“An hour or two ago.”
“It’s her.” Zane’s mouth twitches, and he smiles.
I have to look away from how bright his face becomes. What’s going on right now?
Dutch sees me looking at them questioningly and says, “This message is from the girls.”
“It is?” I look at the monitor, stunned. “Do you know the place they’re referring to? Where is it?”
Neither of them answers.
Instead, Zane floats to the computer and puts his hand tenderly on the screen. I fumble to push my chair back and give him room while observing with my eyebrows squished together.
They’re cruel, ruthless boys.
Uncaring.
Unfeeling.
They have money, power, and fame. Redwood Prep—no, the entire world—is their kingdom.
And yet, with one message from their wives, they’re putty.
No wonder their mother took Cadence and Grey away to protect this family. If they’d fallen into the wrong hands, Dutch and Zane would doanythingto get them back.
“They’re okay.” Dutch’s eyes are glistening, but he doesn’t let the tears fall. “They’re okay.”
Zane lifts the edge of his shirt, revealing rows and rows of abs as he uses the hem to wipe his eyes. It’s a perfect dichotomy. Raw strength and vulnerability. Power and pain.
Their joy is a physical presence, expanding and expanding until it chokes out every other thought.
I can’t help but feel tearful too. Because while these boys still absolutely hate and mistrust me, I realize I’m not the only one with a broken heart in this room. The Kings have lost their heart too.
Cadence and Grey are their weakness.
Chapter Thirty-Two
FINN
The sweat on my hands makes it hard to grip the bar, but I hold on with my teeth bared. My arms are screaming at me to let go, and my ribs throb painfully.
I embrace the agony and pull myself up by sheer will alone.
The moment my chin clears the bar, my strength gives out, and I lose my grip.
In a split second, I’m falling.
Then I body-slam into the mat.
Dazed, I try to push myself to a sitting position, but I don’t have it in me. Gravity is a hell of a sparring partner, and I flop back into a puddle of my own sweat.
The world spins around me in a mad rush. My harsh breath echoes up to the old ceiling and bounces right back down.
I wait until the roaring in my head goes quiet before attempting to get up and take a shower.
