“We talked,” Holden said.
Then Bishop asked the exact question Kit didn’t want answered: “What did you talk about?”
Kit’s worry was for nothing. Holden just smiled up at Bishop. “That’s confidential. You’ll have to ask Kit.”
Of course Holden would be possessive over Kit’s secrets, just like the rest of him. The thought warmed Kit even through his exhaustion. God, he was fucked.
Thankfully Bishop abandoned that line of questioning. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
“Kit would be sad.” Holden shifted on the bed, the mattress squeaking. “That’s probably the only reason.”
His answer hung heavy over the basement. The choice was clear—logic against insane emotion. But Kit knew suddenly, deep in his bones, what the outcome would be. Bishop was no more resistant to emotion than the rest of them. There was blood under his nails too.
“Okay,” Bishop said.
Holden didn’t move, even as Kit relaxed under James’s comforting arm.
“You aren’t free to go,” Bishop clarified. “But we aren’t going to kill you. Assuming all of us agree.”
“Agreed,” Darius said. He pointed at James. “Don’t drag this out. We all know you’re whipped for Kit, and he’s asleep on his feet. Let’s get this over with.”
James squeezed Kit close and kissed the top of his head. “Fine. Agreed. We can always change our minds later.”
Kit closed his eyes, melting against James’s side. He really might fall asleep on his feet if he stayed here much longer. “Thank you.”
When he opened his eyes again, Kit met Holden’s gaze. A slight smile was Holden’s only acknowledgement of the reprieve.
“I’m taking Kit home,” James announced. “You guys deal with this mess.”
Darius waved him away. “Don’t worry, we know how to abduct people.”
“I’m sorry,” James said once they were both in his car. He stuck the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it. Moving again was too difficult now that he had stopped. He’d been running on pure necessity all night and day. “This was my fault.”
Kit turned in the passenger seat. “Because you left me alone with him?”
His eyes were so bright, brow furrowed like he was worried for James. Which was something else James was fucking up. Kit had enough to fucking cope with, without the burden of James’s guilt complex.
“I was complacent.” James’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He forced them loose. “I was careless. I thought you were safe with a tracker on your phone—how dumb was that?”
God, he needed to stop talking. He shouldn’t force Kit to labor through the counterarguments. Life was a risk. Complete safety was an illusion.
James couldn’t fool himself that just being careful enough would have saved his family from the Rat King—if that was even the culprit and not another red herring. James couldn’t pretend that if their security system had been good enough, James could be taking Kit home for Mom to interrogate. That Crystal would have all the cats she ever wanted, and maybe she’d start sending photos to Kit as well as James.
But now that the night was over, now that he wasn’t focused on getting Kit back, James couldn’t help spiraling.
For so long, his life had swung around the hinge of a single tragedy. He’d shaped his present and future around his bloody past. Until now. James never thought he could be so scared forsomeone new.
Instead of arguing, Kit shrugged in the passenger seat. “I knew you would find me anyway. But if you’re still worried, maybe you could chip me like a cat instead.”
James stared, instantly yanked out of his rumination. “What the fuck.”
“I’m kidding. Probably.” Kit patted James’s face. “I can’t stop you from blaming yourself, but don’t expect me to agree with you.”
Despite everything, James grinned. “You’re such a freak, babe. Come on, let’s get you home. You need a nap, and I need to find you a better sweatshirt.”
Kit plucked at the neck of the SCU sweatshirt. “I thought you hadn’t noticed.”
“Of course I fucking noticed,” James said, and started the car.
