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Biting a cigarette into my mouth, I follow King down the long corridor, blazing it up between each step.

“You and Sass?” King asks, smirking.

“Are just fucking around.” I blow out a cloud of smoke.

King snickers. “Yeah, until she gets hurt because you’ve decided you’re bored with the little doll and you want a new one.”

I ignore his jab as we round the corner and enter the dining room.

The Brothers all watch me carefully. “What the fuck is going on?” Keaton asks as we pull out our seats. “You’re awfully comfortable inside of her.”

I run my hand through my hair, gri

Kyrin kicks me under the table. “You two either fuck or fight.”

I flip him off.

King doesn’t answer, so he leans back in his chair, watching me carefully. “You know after the ritual tonight, we’re heading back home.”

“Yeah,” I answer, spreading my legs wide.

“So you know you both need to figure that shit out before we go back on the road. Are you fighting or fucking, because you can’t be both?”

I snort. “It worked well with you and Perse, and we don’t fight. Sass isn’t into the dramatics of shit.”



He glares at me. “Perse has fire inside of her, and we never fought or pushed each other around during a show.”

“Yeah, because she just rolled over and took your shit for the most part. You don’t know Saskia. Girl is fucking wild.”

“Do you?” King asks, watching me carefully.

“Do I what? Know her?” I lean my elbows on my knees. “I know her enough.”

“Oh good, you’re all here.” Delila takes a seat opposite me, pulling her packet of smokes out and tossing them onto the table. She’s getting worse and worse as each day passes. As if something is eating her from the inside out.

“What’s up?”

Delila places a smoke between her lips and lights the end. “Where’s your father’s whiskey?”

I look around aimlessly before coming back to her. “Am I going to need it?”

Delila runs her finger over her nose, her eyes squeezing shut briefly as if she’s in pain. “You will. Unfortunately, more than you did last time.”

“Spit it out.” I lean back in my chair, a

“It’s Saskia.”

“What about her?” I ask, eyebrows raised. “Come on, you gotta tell me something, because right now the girl is walking around like a fucking ghost, haunting me with her presence. Can’t keep my fucking dick off her.”

Keaton snickers.

Delila flicks the ash off her smoke. “If I tell you this, Killian, you must contain your wrath. You must promise me that you will also stay away from her, but tread carefully.”

Sometimes the most vicious ghosts that haunt you are those in your memories.