Chapter 34
The Prey
I wake with a start, disoriented and tangled in the unfamiliar sheets of Jack’s spare bedroom. The sun blazes through the flimsy curtains, stabbing at my eyes like hot needles. I glance at the clock on the nightstand. Seven in the morning.
Despite having only slept a few hours, and my body feeling like lead, my mind is clearer now.
After Jack picked me up from Valentine’s, I was too exhausted to think, to speak, to do anything but collapse into this bed. Now, a disturbing alertness courses through me. I stretch, yawn, and try to shake off the lingering fog of sleep.
Thinking about Valentine makes my heart contract painfully. It doesn’t help that I’m still dressed in his clothes, surrounded by his scent.
How can I love him when he’s so cruel to me? Love isn’t rational, but this… this feels like a sick, cosmic joke. Yet, even as I think that, I know I’ll do everything to protect him. It’s not sensible, it’s… love.
Since there isn’t time to sit and wallow, I fling the covers back and sit up, stretching until my joints pop. The air in the room is cool, almost biting, and I almost get back under the sheets. That won’t do though. Not wh en I want to spend the day with my brothers.
The place is quiet as I pad to the bathroom, hoping not to wake Jack. I flick on the light, its fluorescent hum breaking the silence, and close the door softly behind me. The mirror above the sink shows a stranger: hollow eyes, pallid skin, hair like a bird’s nest. I touch my face, half-expecting it to crumble like old clay.
Stripping off my clothes, I step into the shower and turn the knob all the way to hot. Steam billows around me, and the water stings my skin, waking me fully. I run my fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp, careful of the stitches.
The shower is a ritual, a baptism. I need to cleanse myself, not just of the grime and sweat, but of the past days. Of Valentine.
The water runs cold, and I linger a moment longer, letting the chill numb me. When I step out, I’m a specter in the mirror, wreathed in vapor. I dab my hair with a towel, then pat my body dry, each movement slow and deliberate.
Back in the bedroom, I rummage through the duffel bag Carolina brought me after Michael’s attack. It’s filled with brand new clothes, and I quickly pick out an underwear set, socks, jeans, and a black cashmere sweater.
Dressed, I head back to the bathroom with my makeup bag. The mirror has cleared enough that I can use it. I take out a brush and carefully run it through my hair before applying foundation, powder, and eyeliner. Each stroke is a piece of armor, each layer a shield.
This is not vanity; it’s preparation. Without it, I’m exposed, vulnerable.
I run my fingers through my hair, shaking it out, then use a small amount of mousse to tousle it into a controlled mess. The woman in the mirror is familiar now, but there’s something different in her eyes. A hardness, a determination. I can work with that.
I make my way to the kitchen, following the smell of coffee. Jack is already there, shirtless. I try not to wince as I notice the marks left behind by our dad’s betrayal.
He notices me lingering in the doorway and gives a half-smile, half-grimace. “She lives,” he jokes.
As I walk over to him, I try not to react to his words since I probably won’t for much longer. “Don’t give me shit,” I say, forcing a grin. “I’m awake now.”
He pours two cups of coffee, sliding one across the counter to me.
I take a tentative sip, the heat rising in a fragrant plume. “Thanks for picking me up.”
“Of course,” he says, then pauses. “Ruby… who lives there?”
I look into my coffee, swirling it in slow circles. “It’s a long story.”
He leans on the counter, studying me. “We have time,” he says. The way he says it makes me think he already knows but wants to hear me say it.
I meet his eyes and see the questions he’s been holding back. I want to tell him everything, to unload the weight that’s crushing me. That’s not an option, though. “I’ll tell you, I promise. But first, I need a day with my brothers. Can we do that?”
He studies me, his green eyes searching for something. He’s always been the most perceptive of us, able to read people like a cheap novel. It’s a useful trait in our line of work, but infuriating in a brother. I brace myself for the confrontation, the accusations.
“Sure,” he says, breaking the tension. “Family time.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Let’s call Nick. I want to visit Mom’s grave.”
Jack straightens, finishing his coffee in a long, last gulp. He moves to the sink, sitting down his now empty cup.
“Ruby,” he starts, then stops. “We just—”
“I know,” I interrupt. “I know it’s hard. But it’s important.”
He turns to me, and for a moment I think he’s going to say no, that he’s going to lay down some ultimatum. Instead, he nods. “Okay. I’ll call him.”
“Do you have anything to eat?” I call after him as he leaves the kitchen.
“There are eggs and bacon in the fridge,” he replies.
I watch him leave the kitchen, and as soon as he’s gone, I jump into action. I find eggs, milk, bacon, bread, and herbs. I hum to myself as I crack the eggs into a bowl, mixing them with a fork since I can’t find a whisk .
A part of me wants to follow Jack and listen to his conversation with our brother. I mean, it has to be something worth hearing since he felt the need to leave the kitchen. I’m not that much of a hypocrite, though. So I stay put and toast the bread after pouring the eggs into a pan and lining the streaky bacon up perfectly in the skillet.
Visiting Mom’s grave will be something. It’s been years since all three of us have been there at the same time. Jack and I usually go together, but it’s rare that Nick joins us.
The idea came to me just milliseconds before I suggested it, and the more thought I give it, the more right it seems that the three of us go visit her together. And it has to be today, since it’s the last one I have left.
Jack returns just as I start plating the food. He’s completely dressed now, and drops of water cling to his hair. “That smells delicious,” he observes.
He refills our cups and I carry the plates and cutlery over to the table, sitting down opposite him. “So, is he up for it?” I ask around a bite of bacon.
“Yeah, he’ll meet us there in an hour,” he confirms, and I nod to show I’ve heard him. “He also asked why you’re not answering your phone.”
“It’s dead,” I say as I remember it ran out of battery.
Jack rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I figured as much when you called me from Valentine’s phone.” I stiffen as he says that.
Okay, I guess we’re done pretending he doesn’t know where I’ve been.
“So after you passed out, I found it. It’s charging over there.” He points toward his coffee table where, yeah, my phone is lying.
“Thank you.” I’m moving before I finish speaking the two words.
Picking up the phone, I immediately see the text from Valentine. A voice in the back of my head nags me, telling me that I should read it, and let him know Michael won’t be an issue for much longer. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, gently biting the soft flesh as I contemplate what to do.
“You should finish eating before we have to leave,” Jack says, his words pulling me from my thoughts. “Oh, Nick also mentioned Carolina isn’t coming.”
Locking my phone, I shove it into the jeans back pocket before striding back to him. “Okay.” I keep my face and tone impassive. I wasn’t going to ask for this, but I also won’t deny that I like knowing it’ll just be me and my brothers.
I sit back down, facing Jack. He looks tired, exhausted, even. I know that if I tell him everything, he’ll do whatever he can to protect me, even if it means locking me up. Which is exactly why I can’t tell him or ask for his help.
“Jack,” I say, and he looks up from his phone. “Thank you. For everything.” I know I’ve already thanked him, but it never hurts to ensure the people you care about know.
Giving up on the rest of the food, I get up and move to Jack’s side so I can give him a proper hug that he returns with a ferocity that makes my bones ache. “You’re still my favorite brother,” I whisper.
“And you’re my favorite sister,” he replies teasingly.
“Ass,” I laugh, slapping his shoulder lightly.
He arches an eyebrow. “You disappear for days, and I’m the ass? Do you know how worried we’ve been? We didn’t know if you were dead or—”
“I’m not dead,” I cut in, perhaps too sharply. “I’m here now.”
He sighs. “We just want to know what’s going on. You can’t keep us in the dark.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking how best to placate him without giving too much away. “Jack,” I say softly. “Please. Just trust me. Everything will make sense tomorrow, I swear. But I need one day where we’re together like we used to be.”
He starts to say something, then stops. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the war between his need for answers and his love for me. “One day,” he says at last. “Then you’ll tell us everything?”
Not wanting to lie more than I have to, I say, “You’ll know everything tomorrow.”
After clearing the table, we get ready. I shrug on one of the coats Carolina bought. To say she got me more clothes than necessary is an unders tatement. There are enough garments to last me months. Which I’m grateful for right now.
Jack throws his arm around mine as we ride down in the elevator, and as we get to the underground parking garage, guides me over to his SUV. I slide into the front passenger seat, immediately turning the radio on and up the volume so much it’s practically impossible to talk.
As we drive, the city blurs into a gray winter haze. The streets are slushy with half-melted snow, and the sky hangs low and oppressive. No one speaks, but the silence is anything but comfortable.
When we arrive, Jack parks near the entrance to the Knight mausoleum. The cemetery is a stark contrast to the rest of the city, its rolling hills and ancient trees covered in a serene blanket of snow. We get out of the SUV, and the cold bites through my clothes, gnawing at my bones.
Nick’s already waiting by the gate, and as per usual, he isn’t alone. He stands with Marco, who discreetly steps away as Jack and I approach.
“Nick,” I breathe. “Thank you for coming.”
I’m surprised when he pulls me into a tight hug. “Where the hell have you been, Ruby?”
Sighing, I pull back. “I’ve been—”
“She’s been spending time with Valentine,” Jack unhelpfully adds. “In fucking Dumbo of all places.” He spits the last part as though that area is offensive to him, and maybe it is.
Our brother looks between us, his brows furrowed in confusion. “You left Jack’s in the middle of the night to spend time with… oh.” He grins as the meaning dawns on him. “So we got all worried because you wanted some—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” I snap. Then I turn around, facing the mausoleum. “Are we going inside?”
Nick pulls the key out and unlocks the old iron gates, which creak as he pushes them open. The family crest—a lion—is etched into the metal, a reminder of the weight the Knight name carries. The stone walls of the mausoleum are a dull gray, weathered by years of exposure.
I move closer, feeling a chill that has nothing to do with the evening air. The structure’s cold elegance speaks of power and permanence, a statem ent of legacy meant to defy time itself. Pillars flank either side of the entrance, their edges chipped and softened, but still regal, as if daring anyone to approach with anything less than reverence.
Above sits an arched inscription, barely visible, pronouncing our family’s motto: By Faith and Fortitude.
This is the home of all dead Knights, even Dad’s here. But since none of us had anything but hatred for him, I made sure the groundskeeper took care of all of it. When I came here after Nick and Carolina’s wedding, I spat on my dad’s tombstone before placing a lit candle at my mom’s. If there’s a Hell, the man who sired us is there.
As one, we walk by Caspian Knight’s final resting place, not stopping until we’re in front of our mom’s, Sienna Knight. She died giving birth to me, so I’ve never known her. But through stories and time spent here, I almost feel like I do.
“Hi Mom,” I whisper, kneeling so I can light the candle. Then I make myself comfortable, sitting down on the stone floor.
Nick and Jack don’t speak, but they do kneel in the dirt and place a kiss to their middle and index finger before pressing the same digits against the stone.
“I miss her,” I say, though it sounds hollow even to my own ears. How can you miss someone you’ve never known?
Standing, Jack stuffs his hands into his coat pockets and looks away. Nick is slower to get to his feet, his eyes remain fixed on the stone, unblinking.
“We all do,” Nick says.
I steal a glance at my oldest brother. Of the three of us, he’s the only one who really knew her. He was six when she died, old enough to have memories. I’ve always envied him for that, but also pitied him. Memories can be a crueler burden than ignorance.
Looking back at the lettering, I try to will her into existence. What would she say to us now? Would she scold Nick for his cynicism, comfort Jack in his silent turmoil, forgive me for the mess I’ve made? I don’t hear her voice, but something inside me answers. We are what you made us. We are your legacy.
“Let’s go,” Jack says, already turning to leave. “I’m starvi ng.” I don’t think that’s true, but I don’t call him out on his need to get away from here.
We walk back to the vehicles, our steps slower, more measured. The air is heavy with unspoken words, with the weight of history. I feel a strange calmness, as if visiting Mom has centered me, given me a clearer purpose.
Suddenly, I feel the hairs at the back of my neck stand at attention. It’s the same feeling I got back between Christmas and New Year’s. I look around, searching for the reason but finding none.
When Nick walks over to his car, I hesitantly take a step toward it. “Hey, aren’t you driving with me?” Jack asks, perplexed.
“Umm…” That’s all I manage before Nick spins around. “You want to drive with me?” he asks, sounding confused.
I don’t blame my brothers for reacting that way. Jack and I are the closest, so it would make more sense for me to drive with my youngest brother. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages, Nick,” I say, doing my best to sound sincere.
“Fine,” Jack grunts. “Where are we going?”
“My place,” I say before anyone can suggest differently. “I have to go back eventually, but I would feel better having you guys there with me.”
I don’t miss the look they share, one of bewilderment and anger. But luckily for me, the impatience of my oldest brother wins out. So when Jack wants to debate it, he’s shut down.
“Let’s just go. See you there, Jack.”
Feeling ashamed for playing them, I don’t look back as I follow Nick and get into the backseat in his car. When he goes to get into the driver’s seat, I ask, “Can Marco drive? I need to talk to you.”
With a sharp nod, he agrees, and his right-hand man smoothly drives us away while Nick sits with me in the back.
“So, what’s the real reason you’re driving with me?” he asks, his tone sharp, letting me know he knows I’m up to something.
Straightening my back, I meet his gaze. “I need you to distract Jack.”
“Why?”
“Because I need time alone with Michael,” I say. My voice trembles as I m ention my husband’s name, but it’s not from fear. Oh no, it’s pure anger and hatred. “I need him dead. Now. Tonight. But I can’t get him to come back to the house if you and Jack are there.”
Nick’s expression doesn’t give anything away. “I see.”
I wait for several moments, but he doesn’t say anything else. “Will you do it?” I ask, desperation coating my words.
“That depends,” he says easily. “Does this have anything to do with Valentine?”
“Yes. No… not really. I can’t stay with Michael, not after what he did. But I don’t want anyone else to kill him.” The words tumble from me, inelegant and rushed.
Nick nods slowly, thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“You will?”
He scoffs. “Don’t sound so surprised, Ruby. You’re my sister, and I’ll do anything for you. If you want to be the one to kill Michael, I won’t stop you. God knows you’ve more than earned the right.”
Tears gather in my eyes, and I try to blink them away.
“How do you plan on killing him?” he asks, conversationally.
“With poison,” I answer, and then I go on to explain about the vial I have stashed in the kitchen.
“What kind of poison is it?”
“Umm, I’m not sure,” I say, hesitantly. I honestly have no clue. I stole it from Dad years ago, and it has a skull on the bottle. What more is there to know?
“You can’t just use whatever, Ruby. Especially not if you don’t know what it is. Marco will get you what you need,” Nick states. “And he’ll stay with you. Out of sight, of course. But I’m not leaving you alone with Michael—”
Before he can finish speaking, I throw my arms around him and hug him for the second time today. “Thank you,” I choke out. “Thank you so much.”
Some women love flowers. Some jewelry. I’ve loved both, and a lot of other materialistic goods. Yet nothing compares to the feeling of knowing your oldest brother isn’t just condoning the murder you want to commit; he’s also making it possible.
Nic k spends the rest of the drive filling Marco in, and asking him to get in touch with Sergei, one of the three, to get the poison for me.
While the two of them discuss which poison might be best, I interject, “It needs to be a slow working one. Not too slow. Like, it should knock him on his ass. But I don’t want him to die too quickly.”
My brother grins proudly. “You might not be a Knight in name, but you’re definitely a Knight in blood, little sister,” he says affectionately.
We arrive at my house, a grand brownstone. The front steps are slick with ice, and I make a mental note to salt them later. We get out of the vehicle, and I reach for my keys in the bottom of my purse.
As soon as I’ve unlocked the door, Nick steps forward. “Right, let’s search the house,” he says, shooting Jack a look. “Ruby, stay here with Marco.”
I’m just about to say that Marco is still in the car, but when I turn around, he’s there, waiting like a shadow. Jesus, that man is like a freaking ninja.
We wait in silence while they search the house, making sure Michael isn’t hiding in a closet inside. I don’t bother telling them that I know he isn’t here, they’d never take my gut feeling seriously.
Marco looks up from his phone. “We’re all good,” he says vaguely, and I give him a nod.
My brothers return, announcing what I already knew; Michael isn’t here.
“Well, I hate to do this,” Nick says. “But Jack and I have to go. Will you be okay if I leave Marco here?”
Before I can answer, Jack sputters, “What the fuck? We can’t just leave her—”
“There’s business to take care of,” Nick insists. “She’ll be fine with Marco. ”
We say our goodbyes, and I do my best not to look guilt stricken as Jack scrutinizes me as though he knows there’s something I’m not telling him. “Tomorrow,” he reminds me. “You promised me answers tomorrow, and I’m going to hold you to that, Rubes.”
“Of course,” I lie smoothly. “Why don’t I come by yours tomorrow?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll be here for breakfast.”
“Okay,” I agree, my voice trembles as my emotions threaten to get the best of me. “I love you, Jack.” Before he can answer, I pull him in for a tight hug.
“Love you, too, Rubes,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
Letting go of him, I reach for Nick. It’s almost comical how surprised he looks. “Come on, give me a hug before you leave.”
He hugs me tighter than he ever has before while his lips move against my ear. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he whispers.
The way he says it has me wondering if he knows what’s going on, what I’m planning. When he lets go of me, I shake my head at my paranoia. No, there’s no way he knows.
Without another word, my brothers walk away. I watch them getting into Jack’s SUV, and stay outside, waving at them, until they disappear from sight. Then I walk inside with Marco hot on my heels.