Chapter 21
Killian
There’s nothing unusual about Christmas morning at the Van der Horn home, other than the opulence of the decor and foods.
The family gathers around the main tree in their pajamas and robes to give each other presents.
I’m surprised none are particularly extravagant, but when I ask Damen about it, he informs me that people give one another bigger presents in private, and that this public display of holiday joy is meant as the great equalizer, so everyone gets sweets or joke gifts.
Even Corvus is summoned from wherever he’s been hiding, but he makes sure not to look at me or Damen. Good.
The staff reveal a huge foldable screen, and the main room transforms into a cinema showing holiday-themed cartoons, but after a late breakfast, the kids are all spirited away to the playrooms upstairs while the adults return to their rooms to change and prepare for the event of the year.
Considering that Damen has adorned me with expensive clothes and accessories already, I did not expect the present waiting for me.
But my man has thought of everything, and soon I leave our quarters with a new Vivienne Westwood watch sitting around my wrist. I don’t really have anything to offer him, but he promises to collect what’s owed to him in kind, and we leave it at that.
All the Van der Horns and their spouses gather in the smoking room, and once Karl establishes we’re ready, he heads off toward the same passage Damen showed me yesterday.
The only reason I’m not freaked out about being led to the cellar among some of the Van der Horns is Damen’s presence at my side.
I’ve never experienced such trust for another person before, and it’s especially strange given how short our time together has been, but it’s been so intense.
From the night we met, we were rarely apart, even to the point that I don’t miss my phone because the man I’d want to message is at my side anyway.
Damen sometimes shows me photos of Whiskers with our mafioso cat sitter, who dresses my pet in a new hat every day.
As soon as we go down the stairs and I meet the stern gaze of Damen’s great-great grandfather, all thoughts of Whiskers are forgotten and I’m thrust into a reality where “Jingle Bells” is no longer playing in the background, and the scent of cold concrete persists instead of pine and cinnamon.
I now regret stuffing myself full of various delicacies, because the anxiety is making me nauseated.
Damen leans toward me and squeezes my hand. “I’m here. Sorry Dad’s making you come see the prisoners again, but he claims it’s necessary.” I can guess Damen’s opinion about that from his voice.
But I’m also aware how much he wants to take part in this hunt, how long he’s waited, so if a tour of the cellars is a step I need to take to make that happen, so be it.
Yesterday, we never reached the end of the corridor, since I’ve seen enough of this prison to understand its contents.
Today though, we go all the way in this silent procession including only one woman—Alexandra, Damen’s sister.
I’m guessing it’s because she takes part in the hunt and is involved in the illicit family dealings.
At the very end, Karl leads us into a tiled room, which reminds me of the well of death I fell into in the maze, but it’s much bigger.
I hate everything about it. With everyone walking in, it becomes claustrophobic.
I feel surrounded, and I swear the people gathered are stealing glances at me, which makes some sense.
I’m the new person here. The fresh initiate who might start freaking out over nothing.
It takes me a moment to realize that this space is some kind of shower room, which makes me wonder how long the prisoners are kept in the basement to need showers, but I’m not about to ask.
Karl turns to me, making my heart rise to my throat. “Pick a number between one and eight.”
Damen groans and puts both hands on my shoulders, standing behind me. “Dad. What is this about?”
Karl’s gaze moves from me to his son. It’s unnerving how much they resemble each other, though on the other hand I can anticipate that my man will be hot late into his life too.
“It’s time to find out whether you made the right choice of husband.
If he is to be a part of this family, if he is to know all our deepest secrets, he needs to prove his loyalty.
So, Killian. A number between one and eight. ”
“S-six?” I clear my throat, intent on not stuttering next time he asks me about something.
Karl gestures at Titus. “Bring number six.”
Damen’s fingers clench on my shoulders, and I get the sense that nothing good will be happening in this room. But I can’t prove those people right by being a weak coward unworthy of my husband.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Damen asks through gritted teeth. “He’s not the one taking part in the hunt.”
“But if he is to become part of this family, to bear the weight of what it means to be a Van der Horn man, he needs to commit!” When Karl pulls out a gun, I recoil and hate myself a little when Titus sniggers behind me.
He’s dragging in a man in jeans and a ripped T-shirt. He must be one of the prisoners I didn’t get to see. And I chose him. A random number. I won’t be deluding myself by looking for alternative explanations for this. I already know that I’ve marked this man for death.
All that keeps me going is the belief that the prisoners all did terrible things before ending up here.
“You’re telling me Bree did this too? And Victor?” Damen sneers and points to his brother as Titus hauls the man to his knees in the middle of the room. His brown gaze skitters over every person surrounding him but while he doesn’t even try to run, his eyes beg me for mercy.
Karl stretches his shoulders. “Bree did not. She’s a woman, and not my daughter at that,” he gives Alexandra a gentle nod, as if that’s supposed to justify the sexism of the ritual to come.
“So Bree will never carry all the Van der Horn secrets. But Victor? Yes, he did. I would not allow a man who can’t kill when it’s necessary to father my grandchildren. ”
I can’t say I didn’t already know what’s expected of me, but when he offers me a large handgun, there’s no more room for doubt. “Go on. Shoot this man, Killian, he is our enemy. He might seem like a sorry maggot now, but I assure you he would slit Damen’s throat given half the chance.”
It’s as if I’m not even in my own body when the weight of the weapon settles in my hand. I’ve seen the prison, I’ve seen the skulls, I saw Damen snap Happy’s neck, yet none of those situations felt as real as this moment.
My mouth goes dry, sweat pools under the Christmas sweater that now feels far too hot, and the room is too bright. Nothing can hide here. Not a person, not a single micro-expression passing over my face.
Damen steps in front of me, a solid wall between myself and the world, and makes a point of turning his back on his Father when he speaks to me softly. Still, this room is too quiet, it can hold no secrets. “It’s okay, Kill. Let’s go.”
Karl speaks up. “It is in no way ‘okay’, Damen. If you turn away now, he will forever be your liability, we will not acknowledge him, we will not share secrets with him, and you will never join the hunt!”
Damen won’t look back at him, swallowing as he touches my shoulder. “You are more important to me than the hunt. I will take care of you either way. There is no need for you to do this. I love you.”
Those three words resonate in my skull, and I see him so clearly while the rest of the people become a blur. Only his hazel eyes matter, so soft for me even now.
Damen loves me. This hunt means so much to him. He wants to be part of the Van der Horn family, truly acknowledged as a man, and yet he’d give up on all that for me. His love is so much more precious than any Christmas present he could have ever bought me.
I can be the one to give it to him, the man at his side, even though I had no idea I had that in me until now.
For a moment, I want to ask what the prisoner did to deserve this fate but decide it doesn’t matter.
I am not going to change my mind, because this is for Damen.
This stranger is the enemy of my family.
Damen already assured me yesterday that the people in these cells deserve to be here, and I trust him.
Titus sniggers to his sister. “Told you he wouldn’t—”
I step from behind Damen, put the gun against the man’s head, because I can’t afford to miss, and pull the trigger.
My ears ring with a metallic buzz, and I have to lick sweat off my lip as the man in front of me falls to the side with a red-hot hole in his head, brains splattered so far they reach Karl’s shoes.
So this is what crossing a line feels like.
How am I not vomiting yet? I’ve got no idea. Maybe I’m more messed up than I thought, but does that mean I belong with Damen now? With his family?
I’m limp when warm arms slide around me from behind and Damen pulls me into an embrace that shouldn’t feel so good after what I’ve done.
My heart slams against my ribcage, reminding me that I’m alive, but under Damen’s palm, it calms almost instantly.
The deafening silence is cut by Karl’s whistle, and I raise my eyes to… my father-in-law?
“I didn’t think you had it in you. Victor needed a blindfold.” He then turns to Uncle Roger. “Get Corvus in here. Everyone else joining the hunt, we will be meeting at noon sharp.”
Damen slides the gun out of my hand and puts it on the floor.
“Come with me,” he says and guides me forward by holding my waist. Despite feeling faint, I’m glad he’s not picking me up, because I’ve just killed a man, and it would feel strange to let everyone see how much support I need following the deed.
The skull displays and portraits are a blur as I struggle to keep myself together, and when my body sinks into a plush surface, I could be fooled I’m fainting.
But no, I’m on one of the couches in the trophy room, and Damen’s pulling me almost too close.
I can’t breathe and tap his shoulder to stop him.
When he looks at me, his gaze is dark, as if it’s reflecting his innermost thoughts. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m so sorry. You must believe that I had no idea,” he whispers, stroking my cheek with that same worried expression.
He’s so… concerned. Do I look sick?
I try to speak, but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out, and he can see that. I try to catch my breath several times, but it takes Damen patiently stroking my arms for a little wheeze to leave my lips.
“I believe you,” I utter, and he sinks closer with a deep exhale. Our foreheads touch, and he resumes stroking my back with gentle hands.
“I promise you will never need to dirty your hands again. You have a spark, and I don’t want you to lose it.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, needing all his sweet comfort. “I did good though, right?” Is it needy? Of course. That’s my damn middle name.
I hear him swallow.
“Of course you did. You sealed our position in this family, and I will forever be grateful, even if I’d have understood if you refused to.”
“And it’s not fake, right? You’re mine?” I ask and slide my legs over his lap to be closer.
I have it bad for this man, but I’m done running from it.
Damen pulls me in for a kiss. His tongue breaches my mouth so deliciously my toes curl, and I crawl all the way into his lap, desperate for the comfort only he can provide.
“I’m yours. I promise. You can trust me,” he whispers, holding me firmly in his arms.
I might ask him to record those words so I can have them on loop as my lullaby on nights he’s not there.
“Can we stay like this for a bit?”
I don’t even want sex right now. Only cuddles.
“Oui, mon chéri.”