Prologue
Stan
February 13 — The fucking woods
Bachelor parties are supposed to be fun. Booze, strippers, bad decisions. Not thermal scopes and rich men cosplay-hunting in my family’s private murder forest.
I breathe out fog and look down at my cold feet. Snow crunches under my weatherproof boots. The night air smells like oak trees, old secrets, and the blood of unlucky woodland creatures who had no idea they were about to become target practice for people who run entire nations like chessboards.
My oldest brother, Damon, stands to my left. Dressed in a three-piece charcoal number that probably costs more than that expensive bottle of liquor he warned menotto steal from his study. But that’s justaskingme to take it.
Damon doesn’t know I took a swig from it already. But I’m sure he will soon. He always knows everything eventually. So maybe itisfitting that he looks like he’s about to host a funeral—myfuneral—and not hunt deer. Which, of course, he’s not. He thinks he’s above violence. But honestly, he just doesn’t wanna get his dainty hands dirty.
“Guns are vulgar,” Damon comments when I pull out my latest babies. My twin blades and my custom shotgun. He doesn’t have tosaylike youout loud. But it’s there with the way his judgy eyes point at me.
So I’m grinning, glad Ididsteal some of his fancy liquor.This fucking stuck-up prick.
Speaking of pricks, Sterling—my other older brother—is up front, quiet and black-clad like a shadow.Emo, much?
Sure, it’s a hot look if you’re into emotionally constipated murder machines. Elle’s into that type of murder machine. And she’s gonna marry that murder machinetomorrow.
It’s not like she was the love of my life or anything. The brown-haired, blue-eyed angel who made me believe in heaven. Nope. Totally normal. Totally fine.
She chose silver-haired Sterling, mercenary from hell.
Over me.Charming, much more muscular, stud muffin me, who can turn the darkest parts of life into jokes.
Okay, fine, yeah, I get it. Sterling swooped in and saved Elle from everything she should’ve never faced. I’ll admit that any day.
Still… I was there first.
But I’mtotallyfine. Not bitter or heartbroken. Not depressedat all, over how my mom ran a drug empire built on biochemical brainwashing and used it to glue Elle and me together, before Sterling saved her.
I used to be Ma’s favorite. I’m the youngest, so I was supposed to be doted on and spoiled rotten. Guess I got the rotten part down.
My chin lifts. My eyes find the stars. I pretend the burn behind them is just the cold.
But y’know what? I’m getting over it.
Too tense, I roll my shoulders back, like that’ll magically fix my life.
Nowadays, I’m all about consoling myself through consolation prizes, taking the wins where I can. I even bullied my way into beingSterling’s second best man. Damon’s first because he’s the worst.
Okay, maybe, I did some emotional manipulating to get the spot. But listen, I’m a Song-Smith. I’m allowed to bend the rules to my will. It’s written in my DNA. And who am I to fight against the fate written into my veins? These sexy veins that run down my big, thick arms, and another big, thick thing.
Snorting at my own stupid sense of humor, I adjust my shoulder strap. My twin knives glint in my hands. My shotgun rides on my back like a loyal bitch.
God, I’m just like this shotgun, loyal to a fault, and blows big in one go. Just gotta stroke me right and—
“You look like a character from those video games you play too much,” Damon interrupts my thoughts, murmuring away without looking at me. “You should really limit your screen time. Get out more, and breathe in some fresh air.”
My smile turns bitter. “Thatiswhat we’re doing. We’reoutside, but thanks,dad.”
Kai—our actual dad—is ahead with Lukas Knight, theothercriminal daddy in attendance. I’m sure they’re missing Naomi Knight, the glue of their throuple.
That’s totally relationship goals.
I try not to think about the burn in my chest that’s eating me up inside.Why does everyone have someone? Fucking hell…
