Chapter 26 Kaylor
KAYLOR
Iwaited, sitting motionless on my bed. Quietly. Externally calm while my thoughts raced. My body still buzzed from the pleasure he had worshipped on me, and here I was in my room, plotting and scheming.
The impossible happened, and I was still reeling.
Kreed fucking Corvo loved me. Me! Some girls would die to be me, and others would think I was the stupidest female in the world getting mixed up with someone like him.
All I cared about was how he made me feel, how he protected me, and how he loved me.
The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him, but Rusty had to be dealt with. I was done being suspended in time, wondering when or how he would strike, and since I didn’t fully trust Donovan, I needed to take shit into my own hands.
Okay, sure, it hadn’t worked out all that fantastically the first time I’d done something reckless, but some lessons needed to be drilled in harder.
First, I needed something from Kreed and asking was out of the question.
He had barely pulled the bathroom door closed behind him before the shower roared to life, water hitting tiles. Three minutes. That’s how long I told myself to wait. They were the longest three minutes ever.
Antsy, I slipped into the hallway, glancing down at Maddox’s and Mason’s rooms, my pulse tripping clumsily over itself as if it were trying desperately to outrun what I was about to do.
The twins were nowhere in sight. I hadn’t seen them since yesterday, and knowing them, I wouldn’t be surprised if they hadn’t come home at all.
Like I was Catwoman, I moved stealthily into his room, a distinctive scent of cedar and bodywash mingling. The smell tried to anchor me in place, tried to make me reconsider.
Tried to stop me.
But I couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when I was this close to having the power to end this nightmare.
Steam curled under the gap at the bottom of the bathroom door. The hot water would help his sore muscles and the fresh stitches pulling at his side. It also masked sound effectively.
Mine specifically.
I went straight for the tall dresser against the far wall. I knew Kreed kept smaller knives in the bottom drawer, tactical blades tucked under folded sweatpants where they wouldn’t be immediately visible but remained accessible. Except sharp edges weren’t what I needed tonight.
I didn’t want something designed for threats or intimidation.
I required something absolutely final.
My heart pounded in my chest as I checked each drawer, pushing aside neatly folded shirts and boxer briefs, socks, and my favorite stash of hoodies. Nothing. Each drawer made my stomach twist tighter.
I had to find what I was looking for before he got out of the shower and caught me going through his things.
My eyes tracked across the room to the nightstand positioned beside his bed, within easy reach of where he slept.
Convenient. Accessible. Exactly where a crew prince would keep a loaded weapon if trouble came calling at three in the morning and seconds mattered.
With the shower still running in the background, I crossed the remaining distance, my hand closing around the drawer handle. For a single, suspended heartbeat, I hesitated, all the reasons this was a horrible idea flooding me.
Then I pulled anyway.
There it was.
Cold metal gleaming dully in the low light. Black matte finish. Compact but substantial.
A gun.
It looked almost harmless lying there against the drawer’s wooden bottom, but I’d seen firsthand what weapons like this could do to human flesh.
I’d felt the searing pain of a bullet piercing the skin.
Of watching someone you love bleed out and die in front of your eyes while you were helpless to do anything but scream and cry.
My breath shuddered out in a half gasp, half sob, and the shoulder which had been injured ached, as it did from time to time.
You can do this. You’re brave, and Rusty has hurt too many people. He has to be stopped. This was the cost of survival in this world. This was the legacy my father had left behind. This was the cost of wanting vengeance so deeply it had fused permanently into my bones.
I reached in with a hand that shook so badly I almost couldn’t grasp it.
The weight shocked me; it was so much heavier than I’d anticipated.
It dragged at my wrist, as if the weapon itself were testing me, trying to decide if I was worthy of holding it.
My hands were too small for the grip, fingers too soft and unpracticed.
The textured handle bit awkwardly into my palm, and I had absolutely no idea where my fingers were supposed to rest without accidentally squeezing something important and shooting a hole through the wall.
Or through myself.
God. I didn’t know how to use it. Didn’t know safety from trigger and didn’t understand mechanics or ammunition or anything beyond “point and pull.”
A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest, not funny, not even remotely close to humor, but one of those hysterical, what-the-fuck-is-my-life laughs.
The water shut off abruptly.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
I snapped back into my body, heart vaulting directly into my throat and staying there. I closed my fingers tighter around the weapon, excruciatingly careful to avoid the trigger, careful not to drop it as adrenaline surged hot and disorienting through my bloodstream.
I shoved the gun clumsily under my hoodie and forced myself to breathe as I darted quickly toward the door and slipped out of his room into the hallway, my door clicking shut behind me.
I pressed my back flat against it, exhaling all the fear and guilt and grim determination that had been choking my lungs.
Crossing to the closet quickly, I grabbed the first sweater I saw hanging and wrapped the gun up. I tucked it carefully inside my canvas crossbody bag alongside my wallet, ID, and a pack of gum. Totally didn’t look out of place at all.
But it was safe, hidden, and secret, just waiting for the moment.
The bag stared at me from where it hung on the closet door handle, looking fuller than usual. Fuck. Would anyone notice?
I doubted any of the Corvos paid close attention to my purse.
This wasn’t just a weapon I’d stolen. It was a line drawn in permanent ink, and I’d just deliberately crossed it, stepped over from victim into something else entirely.
When the time came, when I finally saw Rusty’s face again, when he confidently thought himself untouchable…
I wouldn’t hesitate.
I couldn’t afford to.
Not anymore.
Kreed was up to something, but he also suspected I was as well.
I couldn’t figure out what angle he was playing, but I didn’t have time to sneak around or uncover any hints, not when I had my own shit going on.
If I wanted my plan to go off without a hitch, I couldn’t afford to worry about what trouble Kreed would get into.
I had to trust him. With everything. With my life, my heart, my sanity, and my future. Trust he could take care of himself.
And hopefully, this would all be over soon, and perhaps we could try being a normal couple, not that I was sure Kreed and I could ever be normal by any definition.
I seriously doubted it.
Still, the fantasy was nice to imagine in quiet moments.
The immediate problem? There was no such thing as real privacy in this damn house.
Despite the Corvo estate being so large, there weren’t tons of places that ensured privacy.
There were too many eyes and ears, not to mention security and cameras, which were all fine and dandy for making me feel safe but not ideal for secret phone calls.
Every room I popped in seemed to be occupied.
I rounded the corner into the massive kitchen first, where Amelia stood at the center island, stirring something aromatic in a large pot, humming softly. Her presence was cheerful and completely inconvenient.
Nope. Abort mission. Out.
I tried the family room next. Maddox was sprawled shirtless across the leather couch, long legs taking up too much space, watching a movie and day-drinking.
He caught sight of me and lifted the bottle in offering.
I shook my head and backed out of the room quickly before he tried to talk me into joining him.
Booze would give me the exact opposite of a clear head.
Next candidate: the long hallway leading toward Donovan’s study.
I made it halfway down the Persian runner before self-preservation kicked in.
I stopped abruptly, spun on my heel, and walked deliberately in the opposite direction.
That room was a black hole of bad decisions and binding agreements.
I wasn’t stepping foot anywhere near it unless I absolutely had to.
Upstairs wasn’t any better for finding privacy. Evan was stationed in the monitoring room, watching the security cameras. Multiple screens reflected in front of him, every hallway, every entrance, and every supposedly blind spot that really wasn’t a blind spot at all.
Hard pass.
I had no clue where Mason was, which unnerved me. He was the sneaky one and could turn up behind me at any moment. Thank God, Raine was staying at the club. I couldn’t deal with another Corvo to maneuver around.
I spun and walked away so fast I nearly tripped over the decorative rug, my exit anything but subtle.
That left approximately three thousand square feet of mansion to search.
I wandered through parts of the house I still hadn’t fully memorized despite living here for weeks, ducking into rooms only to find an obstacle in my way.
“This house is too damn big,” I muttered under my breath, frustration mounting with each failed attempt.
Finally, after nearly fifteen annoying minutes and one genuine heart attack when I turned a corner and almost collided directly with Mason, I found the only door that wasn’t currently guarded, watched, or occupied by someone with the last name Corvo.