“You gagged him?” Park asked, amused.
“He wouldn’t shut the fuck up about how he’s friends with the president and how he would have us all hanged for treason,” Boone muttered.
Mac grimaced. “It was giving me a headache.”
Despite the gag, Kendrick was still shouting at them—he was just incomprehensible. Gift kissed Park on the lips then each of his mothers gently on their cheeks before going to sit with his friends.
Kendrick’s beady eyes tracked him as he walked to the others, but then his gaze landed on someone behind him, eyes widening and skin blanching, making his craggy, bloated face look even older under the harsh gym lighting. Gift turned to see Kendrick was staring at his mothers, his expression somewhere between confused and horrified.
Sukhon broke from Anchali’s hold, approaching Kendrick like someone might a dangerous animal, tarp crunching as she grew closer. Kendrick squared his shoulders as best he could and attempted to give Sukhon a nasty smirk behind his gag. That seemed to break something in her. She marched to the center of the tarp, reared back, and punched Kendrick in the face hard enough for his nose to explode, blood pouring like a faucet had been opened. Before he could even recover, she spit in his face, then turned on her heel to curl around Anchali.
“Damn,” Drake muttered. “What’d he do to her?”
“Stole me,” Gift said quietly. His friends turned to look at him. “She’s my birth mom,” Gift said, then pointed to Anchali. “And she’s the mom who raised me. It’s a long story, but he pissed off the wrong women.”
“Damn, I feel like we fast-forwarded past five episodes and now we’re watching the finale,” Payton said.
“Wearethe finale,” Drake reminded him.
“Oh, right,” Payton said, cheering instantly.
They all stared at him owlishly until Dove smiled at him. “You look like your mom.”
Luca tilted his head to smile at Anchali. “Weirdly, you kind of look likebothyour moms.”
“That’s not possible, idiot,” Jay muttered.
Gift hoped it was true anyway. Anchali was his mother, for better or worse. But Sukhon was, too. She’d endured years of torture, and when she was free, all she’d wanted was Gift. If he could somehow have a piece of both of them in him somehow, he’d take it.
Gift’s gaze flicked to Kendrick, who watched him like a crocodile watched its prey from the water. His stomach sloshed as he realized Kendrick thought Gift was his son. Gross.
Gift yelped as Payton grabbed him beneath his arms and dragged him into his lap, squeezing him tightly. “I missed you.”
“I was only gone for a few hours,” Gift said, rolling his eyes.
“It was too long. You’re my emotional support human. When you’re gone, I feel at least twenty-four percent more stabby. I’m sure it gets worse the longer you’re gone. Best not to test the theory.”
Gift rolled his eyes but let himself be manhandled by Payton, feeling the weight of Park’s stare on him the whole time. Some sick part of Gift wanted—noneeded—Park to be jealous. It would only work out better for Gift later that night. Should he have been worried about how much he craved Park’s punishments? Even the edging? Maybe he should have been more worried about the fact that he was thinking about his sex life at an execution.
“What are we waiting for?” Morgan whined. “I just want to cut this guy open and see what his insides look like.”
Payton raised a brow. “You do get that you’re not the psychopath, right?”
Morgan scoffed. “You shouldn’t discriminate against me just because I theoretically have a conscience.” Gift heard the gym door screech, announcing their final guests had arrived as she said, “Besides, I maintain that you can enjoy murder without having a psychopathy diagnosis.”
“I concur,” a deep voice said just as the heavy door slammed shut.
They all turned to gawk at the stranger walking with Archer. He looked vaguely familiar, like maybe Gift had seen him somewhere before, but he couldn’t quite place him.
The stranger had a scruffy beard and his hair pulled back into a messy bun. He wore expensive jeans and a cheap worn flannel and carried a huge duffle bag over his shoulder. One of the biggest bags Gift had ever seen, really.
“Who’s that?” Remi asked in a stage-whisper.
Dove sighed dreamily. “Aiden Mulvaney, the only man I’d make an exception for. Unfortunately, he’s taken…by a billionaire. Even I can’t compete with that.”
“How do you even know all that?” Gift asked.
“He’s a celebrity. Just like Archer.”
