Chapter 24
Killian
The painkillers are making me feel like I’m floating. This might be the strangest day of my life. First, I killed a man in a weird Mafia initiation ceremony, then was set up for death and attacked, only for my fake husband to appear at the last moment and save the day.
And now all the people who welcomed me with such hesitance are crowding around us, worried for me, as if I really am a part of their family. Damen refuses to leave my side, and keeps whispering calming words, as if he’s worried I might want to leave him now.
Not a fucking chance.
He is mine.
My protector.
My man.
My husb—
“They aren’t even married!”
Every single person in the room turns their head toward the door like a colony of penguins shocked by the presence of a human in snow camo. I can’t tell who it is at first, but Karl Van der Horn comes into view, standing at the feet of my bed as he glares Damen’s way.
“Son?”
My man’s chest sinks under the weight of my head. “Fine. We are not. Yet.”
The world buzzes as Damen leans over me, staring into my eyes while he takes the hand I wear my rings on. “Will you marry me? For real this time?”
I glance at Karl’s frown first, but then I have eyes only for Damen. “Yes. Of course I will.” For a moment I even forget about the pain still throbbing in my shoulder. It’s more distant by the second. If I was injected with Damen’s love, I’d probably not feel a thing.
Alexandra, whose face I can finally see as she approaches, throws her hands in the air.
“Well, that’s just bullshit! And why is he injured?
Did he play with weapons he doesn’t understand?
” she asks, gesturing my way with the hand still holding the sheet of paper that appears so important to everyone.
“Father?” The new voice causes a sudden silence, and I blink before turning my head toward the door, where Titus stands, also in his camo.
I fall to my back then Damen walks off, no longer supporting my seated position, but through the soft blur of my vision, I see him clashing with his brother so ferociously Alexandra winces at my side.
The two men tumble against the wall, then roll down, and I find myself smiling when my Damen climbs on top and hits Titus as if he were tenderizing meat for schnitzels. “You fucking traitor! I’ll kill you!”
Titus strikes Damen’s face, his eyes unnaturally wide, as if he’s a ghoul whose lids are atrophying. “What for? You’re not married! He’s not family! You lied to hunt with us!” He can barely get that out before Damen punches him right under the ribs.
“What is this about?” Karl yells as I sit up with a groan to get a better look at Titus getting what he deserves.
“He sent one of the prisoners after me,” I say. “Wanted me dead.”
Damen’s mother covers her lips. “Titus, that is not how I raised you!”
Yeah, right.
Damen keeps raining punches down on Titus, and while he is technically not in the right here, not a single person moves to intervene, all listening to the steady rhythm of slam-and-gasp.
Heat pinches my cheeks as I watch this display of violence.
Maybe it’s time to accept that dangerous men are my weakness, and I’m lucky to have fallen for the right one.
I can’t say I’m sorry for Titus when he spits out a tooth.
It’s only when Damen squeezes Titus’s neck and stretches his back, about to choke him that a tall figure appears at their side.
“No, please, he’s your brother!” Bree cries from the door, her perfect face wet with tears.
I look up at her with a snarl. Crocodile fucking tears. “You sent me to the greenhouse so I was easy to hunt down.”
“You did… what?” Alexandra and Victor ask almost in perfect sync. Huh, maybe they really are a good match?
Bree steps closer with her hands up, aware everyone is watching her. “I did what Titus told me to, but he didn’t tell me why! He must have just gotten too wrapped up in the hunt. Please, Damen, I beg you. We have kids.”
“Well, he should have thought about it before ordering a hit on my husband!”
I look around the family members gathered with a sick feeling twisting my stomach. If Damen kills Titus today, in front of everyone, will he become a pariah?
I have enough clarity to look at Titus’s bloodied mess of a face. “Why? Why do you hate me so much?”
Reluctantly, Damen pulls his hands off Titus’s neck so the bastard can speak.
Titus gasps for air and it takes him a moment to respond. “I don’t… hate you. I just… I found out you weren’t married… That it was fraud for Damen to take part… Didn’t have the evidence just yet, and…”
“And you decided to murder my husband!”
“He is not your husband,” Titus shouts back, the teeth he has left covered by a red film.
“Yet,” Damen corrects him.
Titus writhes under him, but the hold Damen has on his brother is steel. “Why do you always have to win at everything? Winning the Christmas hunt was my thing!”
Their father steps in, glaring at them as if they’re two unruly boys fighting over their favorite action figure, not two men ready to kill one another.
“The Christmas hunt is meant to be a bit of family fun. Fun,” he growls and grabs Titus’s ear, tugging on it firmly.
“If it’s making you order a hit on your brother’s…
partner, you’re doing it wrong! So he’s the better shot! Big deal. Practice more.”
Bree sobs, covering her face with manicured fingers. If this were a movie, I’d probably be laughing, but there’s a wound in my shoulder, and my brother-in-law’s teeth are on the carpet.
“Can’t believe you would do that!” Alexandra shouts, rolling the sheet of paper into a ball and tossing it into Titus’s face. “Even if he got more heads, he would have been disqualified on the technicality! And now you ruined this year’s hunt for everyone!”
Titus whines like a damn baby. “Everyone would know—”
I spread my arms in disbelief, but then wince at the pain. “What the fuck, Titus? That is pathetic.”
When Damen growls and squeezes Titus’s neck again, Bree gets to her knees, and I’m impressed. I didn’t think she’d humiliate herself like this for anyone.
She clasps her hands together with a sob. “Please, Damen… I’m pregnant.”
Probably a lie, but I don’t blame her.
It’s like a scene from a renaissance painting. Two brothers caught in a fight that could end in death, the mother with hands over her face, a wife begging for mercy, and a father standing over his sons with a face carved in stone as he lets fate play out.
And I’m right in the middle like the one figure who can break the balance.
I slide off the bed on shaky legs and put my hand on Damen’s shoulder with a sigh. “Let your brother live,” I say. “He doesn’t deserve it, but you would always regret it if you killed him.”
“Yes!” Damen’s mother exclaims from behind her fingers. “And it’s Christmas after all, for god’s sake.”
Damen inhales, relaxing when I place my hand on his head. I see him. I know he’s furious because I’m hurt, but we’re together now, and I will take care of him too.
My man shakes his head. “So this was all because of the hunt?”
When Titus nods, Damen reaches to his side and pulls out a hunting dagger, making everyone go quiet. And yet, nobody dares intervene.
My man is the meanest of them all.
“Then we better make sure it won’t happen again,” Damen says, and with that presses his brother’s hand to the floor and digs the blade into the base of his trigger finger.
Only a small yelp escapes Titus when the digit falls off as if it were a stick of butter, not flesh. Another inhale. “You better mind him from now on, Bree, or I’ll come for the one on his left hand too.”
She nods and tries to catch the bloodied finger, but Damen grabs it.
“Don’t even think about it. This is my trophy,” he says with a snarl and gets up.
Titus groans, turns to his side, looking more out of it by the second, but as soon as the doctor gets a green light, she’s at his side.
It’s over.
I finally exhale.
Karl clears his throat. “Titus, you are banned from the hunt for five years. You will also be a witness at your brother’s wedding.”
His head jerks up, but his wife has the sense to force it down. Good.
“The wedding is happening tomorrow, by the way, so you better get well enough until then,” Karl adds, and I look up, floating in an unfamiliar warmth.
“Father?” Damen asks, pulling me close. He smells of blood and adrenaline, which is somehow even better than grapefruit and gunpowder.
Karl’s eyes settle on him, and both men regard each other for a full two seconds before it’s the father who speaks.
“Thank you for sparing Titus’s life. I would have understood if you didn’t, but he is still my son.
And speaking of sons—” His eyes settle on me next, and I have to force myself not to flinch when he taps my shoulder. “Welcome to the family.”