Page 35 of Shattered Jewel
“What have they done to him?” I ask brokenly.
Kaspian’s gaze darkens, his hand tightening into a fist. He says in a tone edged with hunger, “If they’ve crushed him beyond repair, I’ll tear them apart myself and happily suffer the consequences.”
The violence frightens me, but I understand the sentiment. Ever since I’ve learned about the Sovereigns, I’ve entertained similar thoughts.
“Come on,” Axe says, moving me along with little effort. “There’s nothing more we can do here. We’ll wait for Wilder in the kitchen.”
I somehow let him guide me down the hallway as Cav’s howls chase us. Each one pierces me, a blade twisting in my gut. But these guys have been with each other for years. Wilder would know what to do to calm him.
“I’m tainted! It’s inside me now. The curse melts my bones, tars my blood. You can’t stop it. YOU CAN’T STOP IT!”
Wilder’s deep, soothing voice follows the screams.
The kitchen is as cold, sterile, and dim as last time, as if these boys can’t stand the light. All stainless steel and marble, hard and imposing.
Axe deposits me in a chair at the island, then moves to the fridge.
He stands with his arm slung over the fridge door, blinking rapidly. He gives a rough jerk of his head with a furrowed brow, mumbling something close to, “I’m getting her food,” before his confusion clears, and he glances over.
“You want anything?” he asks, his voice gruff.
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. My hands tremble where they rest on the cool countertop. Kaspian comes in and collapses onto a stool with a groan, his face ashen. He fumbles in his pocket and withdraws an orange pill bottle, shaking out two capsules. He tosses them back dry.
“What are those?” I ask.
“Antibiotics. Painkillers.” He shrugs with his good shoulder. “Whatever Rossi gave me.”
“And you trust them?” I ask again. “After what he tried to do?”
Kaspian levels me with a look. “No. But I don’t have much choice, do I?”
Their private chef silently walks through the doors, setting down green tea, before he disappears from wherever he came from. I stare down at it, not seeing hot tea, but steaming guilt.
I forced Rossi on Kaspian, asked for the Vultures’ help when I knew full well they’re the enemy. And it’s not just college fraternity level dislike. The animosity between these two groups runs deeper, closer to warring factions who deal in death than campus rivalries.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I say more to myself than to Kaspian. “It was either that or call the police and get my mother arrested, or do nothing and let you die.”
Kaspian arches a brow in a way where he clearly expected me to choose the latter.
“Mom doesn’t deserve to go to jail for protecting me from you, and I would never leave you to die,” I clip out, then pick up the teacup. The porcelain is so delicate, with painted purple irises. So different from the brute force currently surrounding me.
Axe sets a glass of water in front of Kaspian, then leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “We need to talk about what happened with the Sovereigns. The blood ritual. And then we can go over what you did to cause Elara’s mother to point a gun and actually shoot you.”
Axe’s tone indicates Kaspian is substantially better at avoiding targeted bullets than what he demonstrated today.
He’s right. I focus on Kaspian with a little more concern. What made him so distracted that he couldn’t use his expertise to disarm my mom in time?
Me?
Kaspian’s nostrils flare. He glances at me, something indecipherable cracking through the winter in his eyes, before looking away. “Not now.”
“Then when?” Axe pushes off the counter, muscles under his thin T-shirt clenching. “Cav is in there screaming his fucking lungs out, carved up like a Christmas ham. You’ve got a hole in your shoulder. And Elara’s caught in the middle of all this shit.”
I flinch at his rare, harsh words and their honesty.
Kaspian must notice, too, because he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Then you fucking explain it to her.”
Kaspian drops his hand from his face and regards his brother-in-arms. At Axe’s lowered brows, a deliberate shading of emotion.