The slumped weight. The way his grip is the only thing keeping the guy upright. The way Kross isn’t even trying to hide how effortless it is.
Then my stomach drops and flips at the same time.
Oh shit. Is that, Mark?
Of all the fucking people.
He looks less like the guy who used to talk over me and more like someone who just found out the universe doesn’t give a single fuck about him.
Kross, meanwhile, looks smug as hell, like this is exactly the punchline he’s been warming up all night.
And the worst part?
Some deeply inconvenient, very honest part of me is immediately turned on by it. He looks murderous and amused all at once, and my body reacts like it hasn’t gotten the memo that this is aproblem. Like I didn’t just come apart ten minutes ago on his equally murderous brother's cock and should maybe be done with adrenaline for the night.
Great.
Add that to the list of things I’ll unpack never.
I stare at Mark, unimpressed, while Kross holds him there like a bad habit he’s about to break. The contrast is almost funny, and yet I still don’t feel scared. If anything, I feel…alert. Awake. Annoyingly aware of how far past normal tonight blew and how little I fucking care.
Yeah.
That’s probably something I should worry about later.
“Aeri—” Mark mumbles, my name slurring out of him like it might still work. His head lolls toward me, chin dipping, shoulders caving like gravity finally decided to collect. His fingers twitch at his sides, useless and pathetic, grasping for leverage, for mercy, for the version of me that used to give a shit.
I laugh.
The sound rips out of me sharp and sudden, like my body saidfuck itbefore my brain could intervene. It isn’t kind or soft. It’s ugly, startled, and honest as hell, and it lands right where it’s meant to.
Kade’s hand presses into my waist immediately, steadying me when my knees wobble. Not because I’m afraid. Because a part of me is thrilled, and that’s so much fucking worse.
Kross’s gaze slides past me and locks on the man in his grip.
His mouth curls.
“Well, I’ll be fucked,” he says lightly. “Look who didn’t learn.” Kross tightens his grip, fingers digging into Mark’s collar just enough to steal the rest of the sentence.
Kade’s voice cuts in, sharp and commanding in that “no fun twin” way. “Fucking Christ, Kross. Get the fuck in here.” He steps back to make room. The bathroom feels even smaller with the three of them in the doorway, Mark hanging between Kross’s hand and gravity.
Kross drags him in and shoves him without a second thought. Mark stumbles hard, boots scraping tile as he barely keeps his feet under him. He slams shoulder-first into thecounter, breath punching out of his chest, and then everything happens at once.
In the blink of an eye, his mask comes off. Gone in a goddamn heartbeat. His hand is suddenly at the back of my neck, fingers tangling rough and unapologetic in my dark hair as he crashes his mouth onto mine.
It’s violent. Hungry. Possessive as fuck.
Like he’s daring the room to argue.
I kiss him back without hesitation, matching him beat for beat, teeth, lips and heat, because yeah, if this is how the night’s going, I’m not spending another minute pretending I’m not enjoying every fucking second.
Behind us, Mark makes a broken, choking sound. He tries to catch himself on the counter, palms slipping, and leaves a dark smear of blood across the porcelain. Kade reaches past him and slams the door shut again, locking it in place with a sharp, final click.
Instantly, the noise outside spikes—muffled yelling, fists hitting the door, someone shouting about getting security. Good luck with that, the odds of them actually doing shit, are pretty slim..
Kross pulls back just enough to grin, forehead resting against mine, breath warm, smug, and entirely too pleased with himself. “Hey, little valentine,” he murmurs, cocky as ever.
Kade clears his throat behind us as he leans back against the sink and crosses his arms, eyes cutting toward Kross in clear warning.
