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1
Keira
Four months later
I glance around my family’s restaurant, over the standing guests who mingle and laugh between each guzzle of expensive alcohol. They exude joy in their tailored suits and stylish dresses while filling their bellies with the finest cuisine.
It’s what we do.
All part of the show.
I paste on a grin, playing my role. I appear humbled by their presence. Blessed by their support as I saunter around the room flaunting a halter-neck gown worth more than most people earn in a month.
I’m acting.
But so is my audience.
Their kindness is a facade. Their friendship a lie. Their happiness a bluff.
I don’t doubt that each and every man in attendance would slaughter me and mine in a heartbeat if they thought they could get away with it. If they thought, for even a second, they could bring us down.
The women aren’t any better. Their polite questions are made with sinister intent. Digging for information. Scrambling for leverage with every softly spoken word.
They’re fake. From their personas to their smiles—none more so than mine.
“Can I have your attention, please?” I raise my champagne flute, my mask of charm perfectly in place as the chatter lessens. “I’d like you all to join me in a toast.”
My focus strays to the reason for the engagement party—Hunter and Sarah—and for a moment I don’t have to feign happiness, even though the man in question scowls at me.
The love between these two is one of the very few real things in my world. Their relationship isn’t about rainbows and butterflies. It’s dark and gritty. Pure and honest. At times, it’s honestly fucking scary. But honest nonetheless.
They’ve created an unbreakable partnership amongst the threats and betrayal surrounding us. They beat the odds and have earned my admiration, along with the slightest case of jealousy.
“To Hunter and Sarah, may your upcoming marriage be filled with peace—” which is non-existent. “Love—” that will make you vulnerable. “And friends and family—” who can easily stab you in the back.
“To Hunter and Sarah,” the guests echo, raising their glasses to drink away my poor excuse for a toast.
Finding the perfect sentiment to describe this moment is something I gave up on nights ago. We don’t do perfection. We do manipulation and lies. Deceit and danger.
There are no fairytales here. Only wealth derived from the death of many and the demise of more.
A presence approaches behind me, making me stiffen.
A man.
No, men.
There’s more than one, their proximity raising the hair on the back of my neck. But I show no fear. I can’t. Not in a room filled with security and people I’m supposed to cherish.
I have to pretend I’m safe. Although we all know safety is another illusion.
“You’re off your game, sis.” Cole gives a friendly nudge to my elbow, washing away my discomfort with his gruff voice. “I thought you would’ve bored us for hours with a gushing speech about love and commitment.”
I raise a brow in offense and wave a hand for him to continue forward. “Why don’t you show me how it’s done?”
He smirks, and for a moment I glimpse the devil. The determination and unwavering confidence in his gaze is unfathomable. But there’s sterility, too.
He’s not entirely present. He hasn’t been for a while.
“I will.” He strides ahead, wordlessly demanding everyone’s attention.
Conversation dies a quick death under his muted authority. The crowd becomes enraptured, acting as if this man is their savior instead of the one threatening them to remain loyal.
“Thank you all for being here tonight.” He indicates the not-so-happy couple with a tilt of his chin. Hunter glowers, his irritation unrestrained, while Sarah glares, her eyes narrowed to spiteful slits. “Although neither of them were enthusiastic about having an engagement party—”
“Slight understatement,” the man at my back murmurs near my ear.
A shiver skitters down my spine. I know that voice. I’ve grown accustomed to the way it makes my pulse quicken.
No man has ever intrigued me the way Decker does.
“But through their adamant disapproval,” Cole continues, “I knew this would be the perfect opportunity to bring us together. All of you were invited today because you’re a part of the family. And right now, with our uncle still fighting for his life in hospital, we need to remain close.”
My heart snags beneath tightening ribs. The flash of Uncle Richard’s bruised and swollen face assails my mind. The broken arm. The cracked skull. The unrecognizable form in a crisp white hospital bed littered with cords and IVs.
It would’ve been more humane if he’d died. No man should’ve survived his injuries.
“Not only was his attack a blatant display of what others will do to try to tear us apart, it’s also an act I can’t ignore. I will fight for what’s mine, and I will find everyone involved.”
For the naive, Cole’s speech could be considered protective and inspiring. To those who know him, it will be heard for the threat it is. It’s a reminder to those in this room who have contemplated betrayal. A clear warning to anyone questioning their loyalties.
Remaining devoted is the only option for anyone who values the breath in their lungs.
At one time the sentiment frightened me, back when I was a child and the harsh words of a heartless father were something I whimsically hoped he’d outgrow.
I’m the one who outgrew the whimsy.
I adapted to my circumstances because there was no alternative. The weak don’t survive here.
Mentally or physically.
“I will not stand idle and watch my family be destroyed. With Hunter and Sarah’s engagement, we become stronger. We show outsiders how powerful we are when we work together.”
I drown out my brother’s words with another sip of champagne and scrutinize the vultures eagerly waiting for the scent of blood. They want Cole to expose a weakness. The slightest flaw.
“For a powerful man, Torian sure talks a lot of shit, don’t you think?” Decker mutters.
I stifle a chuckle, my morbid thoughts being ripped away by his comic relief. “You can leave at any time,” I murmur over my shoulder, not willing to make eye contact.
I know what I’ll find in his expression, and it won’t be the cold calculation I see from everyone else.
“Yeah… sure I can,” he drawls. “With a bullet in the back of my skull as a parting gift.”
I cringe, the visual hitting with vivid clarity.
“Besides, I couldn’t leave you behind. You’d die of heartbreak. Sarah, too, for that matter. How could I live with the guilt?”
I roll my eyes. “Does your best friend know his fiancée is the only reason you stick around?”
“Of course. I tell him often.”
I snort, earning the attention of my brother, who pauses mid-speech to shoot me a glower.
“Sorry,” I mouth.
Cole’s hard gaze slips over my shoulder, his stare intensifying for a threatening moment, before he turns back to the crowd and continues his dictatorial speech.
“You’re a bad influence,” Decker mutters. “Nothing but trouble.”
I bite my lower lip, my neck tingling with the need to face him.
I’m dying for another glimpse of that spectacularly fitted suit. The chocolate hair styled to perfection. The shadow of stubble along his jaw that begs for my touch, and eyes so dark and deep I could lose myself.
Sometimes I want to lose myself.