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“Ilya,” Kento says, still looking at my brother. “Come here.”
Anton’s smile widens slightly. “I’m afraid that’s not a good idea right now.”
“I wasn’t asking you.”
“No, but I’m telling you.” Anton takes a step forward, and I feel my body tense. “My brother isn’t doing well. I heard he’s been off his medication recently.”
No.
No, no, no.
“You may not know this,” Anton continues, his voice coated with false concern, “but Ilya has… issues. Mental health issues. And I don’t suggest being near him at this time. So I’m sure whatever you need to discuss can wait.”
I close my eyes. Something cavernous opens beneath my sternum. Anton’s mouth is moving, but language has abandoned the room; everything he says reaches me as static, meaningless noise beneath the single catastrophic thought consuming everything else. Kento will think I’m insane. He will—
Anton’s fingers clamp around my injured arm, and pain tears through me. I barely get the breath out before the hallway erupts with a gunshot. The sound ricochets until it feels like it came from inside my own skull. Anton jerks backward, his grip disappearing. He stares at his arm for one second before blood begins slipping between his fingers.
He’s staring at Kento with disbelieving eyes. Kento is standing in the same spot, gun in hand, expression completely unchanged.
Deadpan.
Like he just swatted a fly.
“A son of a prostitute,” Kento says quietly, “should not lay hands on an heir.”
He clicks his tongue.
His eyes are dead.
Completely empty.
There’s a scream from upstairs, and then Alya comes running down.
“What happened?!” she gasps, her eyes going wide when she sees Anton. “Oh my God—Anton—”
Anton groans, pressing harder against the wound. “How dare you—”
“How dare I?” Kento interrupts. “How dare you interrupt me. How dare you put your hands on him. How dare you stand there and tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, as if you have any authority over me whatsoever.”
Alya steps forward, her voice shaking. “Kento, you can’t just—”
“I can.” He doesn’t even look at her. “And I will. This is a formal warning. If either of you touch him again, I will respond accordingly.”
“You’re insane,” Anton hisses.
I can’t seem to make my body catch up to what my eyes are seeing. Kento just shot my brother. And there isn’t a flicker of regret on his face. I manage to drag myself back into my own body and step forward. “Kento,” I say quietly. “Go.”
His gaze lands on me.
“Go,” I repeat, my voice stronger this time. “Please.”
Then he closes the distance in a handful of steps. I lift my chin to hold his eyes. He bends toward me, speaking so silently the words belong to me alone. “Use your safe word.”
I blink. “What?”
He reaches for my hand, the one that isn’t throbbing, and opens my fingers gently, then places something in my palm.
A lollipop.
