“That was a big fucking secret!” I shout, getting more and more irritated with him. “It’s literally when everything started going to shit. Had you told us, maybe we could have prepared. Done something different. Fuck, Saint. Maybe your wife wouldn’t have shot you.” His laughter stops. “Perhaps she wouldn’t have ran away and lost her baby. Maybe we wouldn’t have been sentenced to six months of hell. Who knows?”
He opens his mouth, but I continue, “And you…” I look at Haidyn. He widens his stance and crosses his tatted arms over his chest. Ready for a fight. “What the fuck, man? You kept Adam from us for four years?” I don’t care that much that he married Charlotte behind our backs.
He says nothing.
“Now because of Adam, I’ve lost Sin as well,” I ramble.
They both frown and look at one another. “What happened to Easton?” Saint asks.
“After Adam’s funeral, I went to his house and beat the shit out of him in his living room.”
Saint sighs and runs his hand down in his face. “Was Elli there?”
“Of course his wife was there,” I shout. “And then after we had our meeting with Adam on the plane, I went back to apologize, and she pointed a loaded gun at my face.”
“Kash—”
“Don’t bother,” I interrupt Haidyn. “You guys have kept to yourselves for this long, just keep doing that.” With that, I turn and storm through the plastic strip curtains and get on the elevator. Fuck, I need a drink and to see her.
She is the only thing that can make this day better. I’m already relying on her as a crutch. I used to have my brothers, but I’ve lost them one by one. So I’m going to replace them with her.
Eve doesn’t know it yet, but she’s exactly what I need.
NINE
EVERETT
Do you know what it feels like not to get to say goodbye to the one you love?
People die every day in freak accidents or from suicide or natural causes. I know there are a lot of people who don’t get to say goodbye to a loved one. Who aren’t aware when they kiss them goodbye as they leave for work that it might be their last.
I hate that I’ve had to say goodbye to someone I never even got to meet.
I sit cross-legged at the grave. It should have two headstones, but that wasn’t offered. The single headstone represents two people I love. Two deaths due to two different circumstances. Not getting to know them doesn’t make the pain or loss any easier.
Each one put a fresh hole in my heart. The tears did eventually stop, but it changed me. Made me colder.
I look over the unmarked grave. You don’t get to be remembered when you screw the Lords. There are two people who I never got to say goodbye to here. One brought me into this world, and the second, I refused to let end up with the same fate as me.
I learned at a very young age that I would rather swim with the sharks than surround myself with the people who tried to drown me.
I only had myself then, and I only have myself now. That will never change. One day, they’ll get rid of me. No one will show up for my funeral because there won’t even be one. Not like I will have friends to attend it anyway. I want to be cremated and dumped here, but that won’t happen. You don’t get to choose how you die when the Lords decide your time is up.
As I sit here, the wind picks up, but heat covers my skin. I can feel him. I haven’t been able to pinpoint where he comes from or what it is he wants, but he’s been there.
Tonight is different. I can hear the sound of his boots on the muddy ground behind me, and I can smell him. It’s a cool night with a strong breeze. It’s on purpose. For some reason, tonight is the night he wants to be seen.
“I thought stalkers were supposed to go unnoticed,” I say, keeping my back to him.
A dark chuckle caresses my ears, and the breeze blows my hair around my face. Getting to my feet, I turn, and it gets caught in my lip gloss, slapping my face. I take a second to push it back, tucking it behind my ear.
The cemetery is dark at this time of night, with only one light, and even it’s on its last leg—flickering on and off. But the moon is out in full, giving me enough light to see the man leaning against the large tree. He’s got his right black combat boot against the tree, knee bent. He stands over six feet tall, dressed in a black hoodie and light-wash jeans. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of one pocket and a Zippo out of the other. Lighting it up, he flips the lighter shut and puts them both away.
“Aren’t there enough things that’ll kill a Lord?” I wonder, filling the silence. “Why put yourself in an early grave?”
The end of the cigarette burns as red as a cherry before he blows it out. “Speaking of graves…” Kashton looks around. “Why the fuck are we out here at three in the morning?”
“Why are you stalking me?” I counter, pushing my hip out. I was here first.
