Kong stopped briefly to talk to Phoebe before vanishing into the extended hallway. Ready to leave, he met up with Audiemar at the elevators. He had to get the hell up out of there. Watching the numbers slowly move to his floor, he took a breath when he sensed his father’s presence at his side.
“How is she?”
“Phew.” Kong blew out the same breath he’d inhaled and shook his head. “She doesn’t remember anything. Thinks we’re still in fucking college.”
“That might be a blessing right now.” Audiemar fisted his beard. “We need all hands on deck. Tomorrow night. Nine p.m. at headquarters.”
“I’m heading to the house. Been a long day,” Kong said when the elevator doors slid open.
An older couple stepped off together, and the two men faced one another. Audiemar recognized the trouble in his son’s stare. Something, or someone, was shifting his focus. While he respected Ayla and enjoyed her abilities as a chef, if she was going to keep Kong off his square, the situation wasn’t going to work.
“I suggest you take the time to gather your priorities, son. I understand temptation. Desire. Need. But at what cost? A woman weakens you. Have you not learned from my past?”
“With all due respect, Pops, that’s some bullshit. Where would any of us be without Jane? Including you?” Kong pressed his finger into his chest before backing onto the elevator.
“And look where Jane is now,” Audiemar reminded him.
Not to be cruel or hit below the waist, but to show him how one choice, one moment, can change everything. Expressionless, Kong stood in the middle of the elevator and pressed the button for the ground level. He didn’t utter another word as the doors closed.
Ten years ago…
“Ayla! Ayla!” Inari’s raised voice reverberated throughout the house.
The faint aroma of blood struck her nose, and a sharp pain ripped through her temple before traveling through the rest of her body.
“Noooooo!” The terrorizing wail her sister released rocked Ayla to her core when she came to.
In a darkened room, she noticed the large figure on the floor first. Scrambling to sit up, the thick, sticky substance on her hands alarmed her. When Ayla raised her palms, the bright crimson stuck to them stole her breath. Heart thudding wildly, her eyes flew to the face staring back at her with wide, dead eyes. Blood was everywhere, and an old seashell lamp her mother bought on a road trip years ago was shattered beside him.
“Inari!” she shrieked, panic paralyzing her when she looked up and caught her sister’s figure in the doorway and two shadows moving behind her.
She wasn’t alone.
“Shhh, it’s okay, Lala.”
“What’s happening? Wh-what ha—happened?” she stammered, pressing a hand against her chest. “Did I… is he….” She couldn’t complete a sentence, but her mind flickered with a memory that stiffened her spine.
As the overly large figure came at her, fear crippled her, and her instinct to protect herself kicked in. She grabbed the closest object she could find. Ironically one the pieces of her mother she’d refused to let go of after she died. She raised it above her head when he charged at her, and when she brought it down, she heard his skull crush from the impact before his body hit the ground with a hard thud. An ear-shattering wail slipped through her lips, and Inari knelt to wrap her in her arms.
Sweat drenched her t-shirt. Ayla’s round brown eyes shot open, and for a moment, she forgot where she was. While she was growing used to the Blackmoor estate, sometimes she missed her old bedroom. The house she shared with Inari andDane had been home nearly all her life. She was growing more comfortable here, though. Taking in her darkened room, she found the TV still on and the Roku menu playing on the screen. Reaching for her phone in bed, she picked it up and read the time. It was after nine pm.
Throwing her covers aside, she slipped her feet into her cozy slippers and grabbed her thin, silk robe off a nearby chair on her way out the door. Hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, she yawned a bit while padding through the quiet halls into the kitchen. She was surprised the kids were down. Normally, the two of them would be up even after being tucked in. Kara had trouble going to sleep, so Ayla had Yasmine order some soothing bath stuff for her and tried to get her into a routine. The nanny agency hadn’t found anyone willing to come back to the estate as of now, so she was pulling double duty with cooking and making sure the kids were good.
Today had been a day. Kyro caused some problems at school, so he was sent home early. She didn’t think Kong was privy to that information yet with everything else that he’d been dealing with today. She decided to cook. Nobody had requested or complained about her meal choices so far, and cooking helped her settle herself in times like this. She was focused on her homemade mini apple pies when she heard what sounded like the front door closing. The kitchen lights were low, and she hummed softly to some old school Mary J. Blige playing on the Bluetooth speaker on the counter. The warm scent of apples and cinnamon filled the room, and Kong paused in the doorway to watch her work. For a moment, the house felt like it did when Jane was alive. Warm. Alive. Safe. Entranced by her movements longer than he should be, he shoved his keys into his pants pocket.
“Hey.” Ayla greeted him with a smile.
Fuck! He hated that she could breathe, and he got the urge to be close to her, soaking up all her good ass energy. Standing in her pajamas, hair messy on top of her head, face absent of her glasses, he took a breath. She wasn’t wearing a drop of makeup, but she’d never been finer.
“You hungry? I can warm you up a plate.”
His stomach grumbled at the mention of food, and he realized he hadn’t eaten much today. He almost refused, but instead, he sighed and nodded. Ambling over to the cabinet where the liquor was stored, Kong grabbed a clean glass. He picked a bottle of Marek Reserve off the shelf and decided to have a shot to take the edge off. After a big gulp, the alcohol burned his chest, and he poured himself another before taking a seat across from where Ayla worked at the counter. She’d already brought over the containers with tonight’s leftovers to make him a plate. Arranging barbecued salmon over rice, she went to heat it up in the microwave. When she brought it back, she topped it off with a homemade mango salsa and set the bowl in front of him.
“How’s Nay doing?” she asked, using a towel from the counter to dry her hands.
Kong paused with his fork in his hand.
“She woke up. Surgery went well.” He scooped some salmon and rice onto a fork and took a bite.
