Kayden blinks at him, confused.
I force the words out. "Darlene retaliated for your stunt. They hit the bar. And… killed him."
Kayden's gaze snaps to me first, scanning my body like he expects wounds. Then to Asher. It's the first time since he staggered in that I see clarity in his eyes.
"What?" His voice cracks. "Winston?"
"Yes." My throat seizes. "She shot him straight through the heart."
His jaw clenches, his whole body taut with fury. "That bitch—I'll rip them—"
"No." Asher cuts him off. "You've done enough."
Kayden steps forward, blood on his lips, eyes burning. "You think you can boss me around?"
"No," I cut in, my voice tight. "I don't think anyone can control you, Kayden. Least of allyou."
I turn before either of them can see my tears, climbing the stairs as they finally spill hot down my cheeks.
What a goddamned mess.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Sage
We're promised a truce for Winston's funeral, but it feels fragile and uneasy. The same words could be used for the space between Asher, Kayden, and me. We circle one another carefully, all sharp edges and silence, carrying too many things unsaid.
So much has gone wrong. I keep hearing Asher's words about the zero-sum game in my head. Either Darius wins, or we do. And the way Darius looks at me, how determined he is, how he refuses to listen to reason, it makes the path forward feel inevitable. Like the only way to win is the one I can't bear to think about.
Both brothers are already dressed for the funeral. Dark, perfectly cut suits that make them look like they stepped out of some old-world portrait. Kayden's glance flicks to me, quick and unreadable, before he turns on his heel and leaves the kitchen.
Asher lingers. "I need to do a supply run and I don't want to leave him unsupervised." His chin tips toward the door Kayden disappeared through. "I asked Astrid to come by. She'll take you to the funeral, all right?"
I nod. "All right. I'll see you there."
He studies me for a moment, then his fingers brush the side of my face in a fleeting touch before he leaves.
Not long after, Astrid strides in. Her gait is stiffer than usual, the dark clothes she wears making her seem heavier, less invincible. She grabs a beer from the fridge, pops it open, and leans against the counter to drink.
I flip aimlessly through a book just to keep my hands busy. Winston's books. The thought nearly breaks me. My throat tightens, a sob threatening, but I shove it down. Not now. I'll break later.
I glance up at her. "Are you angry with me?"
Astrid doesn't dodge my question. "I thought about it," she admits. "But no. Not you. It's Kayden. And Darius. Men who think they can do anything without consequence. The vampire should be dead, not Winston."
"Nobody should be dead," I counter softly.
She shrugs. "People always die. Some deserve it more than others."
"I don't think it's up to us to decide that."
Her grin is sharp and humorless. "Right. That's what you told yourself when you fried vampires in containers? That it wasn't your decision, but nature doing its job?"
I don't answer. She's right.
"Ever think about how different it would be if you'd let Kayden die there?" she asks.
I breathe out slowly. Of course I've thought about it. It would all be different. Butwhat ifsdon't bring the dead back. And the truth is—I wouldn't want Kayden gone. No matter what he's done, no matter the ruin he drags in his wake, I love him. However furious I get, however betrayed I feel, part of my heart, for better or worse, belongs to him.
