Chapter 23 #2
The flames are lower now. The meat’s cooked, half-eaten, and we’ve fallen into silence. One of the rare kinds I’d like if it weren’t for Stanley lounging with a bone hanging out of his mouth like a cigar. I toss another log into the pit and sit back.
“Still pissed?” he asks, casual and cocky.
“Yes.”
“Well, you always are.” He grins around the bone. “That means you’re still you.”
I roll my eyes.
A few more minutes pass before he tosses the bone onto the grass. “Y’know, when you left all those years ago, I wasn’t surprised.”
That gets my attention.
He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You were always the one who didn’t give a shit. Who walked around like you didn’t owe anyone anything. I used to think you were an asshole, but nah. You just saw through everyone’s bullshit.”
I glance at him. He doesn’t look back at me. Instead, he lifts his head to stare at the sky.
“I looked up to you, y’know. You did what I never could.” He barks out a laugh, bitter. “Just walked the hell out.”
I crease my brows, frowning. “You? Looked up to me?”
He smirks, but it’s thinner than usual. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Because you’ve always acted like you were born without a filter.”
“Yeah, well. You showed me I didn’t need one.” He rubs his jaw. “You stopped caring what people thought. I figured maybe I could too.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. We’ve never done this, never said this kind of shit out loud.
Then his expression changes. Still casual, but his voice cuts. “Dad liked you best.”
The word dad makes my chest uneasy. It’s a different name from the one I always use. Kai. Cold, distant, detached. Stanley doesn’t look at me. He just keeps talking, filling the silence.
“I used to wonder why. You weren’t even the golden boy. That was always Damon. But dad looked at you like you were some sort of reminder of something important to him. Or someone.”
He glances at me now, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“So when you ran, I figured you must’ve found out some sort of terrible truth, Silver.”
I don’t say anything.
Stanley watches me, a heaviness behind his stare. “You’re not Clo’s, are you?”
Silence passes over us again. I meet his gaze, frowning. The fire crackles. Then I nod once, slow.
“Wait—wait, back the fuck up. So I’m right?” He holds his head with both hands, eyes wide and in clear disbelief. “You’re not Clo’s. Okay, wild. But if Clo isn’t your mom…” He blinks, squints, then leans forward like the answer might be hiding somewhere on my face. “Then who the hell is?”
I don’t answer.
His mouth gapes open. “You know, don’t you?”
I nod again. He stares at me, waiting. I say nothing.
“Oh, no, no. Don’t you dare do this silent broody shit right now.
” He shoots up and starts pacing. “You’re telling me I’ve been going my whole damn life thinking we were full-blood brothers, and you’re holding out on me now?
After we’ve literally—literally—done everything else together? You selfish bastard!”
I raise a brow. “After you butchered a boar in my kitchen?”
“Yes!” He stomps at the ground. “This is premium family drama material. Firepit. Meat. Suspicious backstory. Gimme your real mom’s name, Silver!”
I glance toward the cabin, just in case Elle’s woken up from all of Stanley’s stupid noises.
“Is she someone I know? Wait—wait—oh my god.” Stanley gasps. “Is it someone Damon knows? He knows everything. Wait! Does Damon even know?”
I pause for a breath too long.
Stanley’s eyes grow huge. “Oh my god. Damon doesn’t know?”
“No.”
“No, he doesn’t know, or no, you’re not gonna answer that?”
“Yes.”
“Sterling. You’re the worst.” He groans dramatically. “This is why you disappeared for years and left me with nothing but Clo, an inferiority complex, and the world’s most traumatic Christmas memories.”
I smirk. “You’re not owed the whole truth just because you finally showed up.”
He scoffs. “Oh, okay. So now I need to earn your tragic backstory access card? After sharing a woman with you?”
My smirk drops. My voice is a warning. “Stan.”
But he grins. His shoulders lower. We’re both realizing I just called him by his nickname for the first time in our lives. I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Elle bonded us for life now,” he says, with his shit-eating grin. “But you’re still keeping the good gossip to yourself?”
I sigh and rub my temples. “You’re a goddamn pest.”
“Yeah, well. I’m also dying to know who dad knocked up and created my most emotionally constipated brother. Your competition’s Damon, by the way, but you take the cake.”
I say nothing and let him squirm. My smirk pulls at my lips again when he sighs, frustrated.
He narrows his eyes. “You’re smirking.”
“I’m not.”
“That’s a guilt-smirk, and I know because I do it all the time.”
He’s practically trembling now, ready to demand answers until dawn, I’m sure. So I give him something else. “Damon got married.”
Stan stops. His mouth opens, closes, then opens wide. “What?!”
I almost laugh.
“Damon? Married?” he screeches, full theater-level dramatics. “When did he ever say he wanted to settle down? Did the bride lose a bet?”
“He’s on his honeymoon,” I say, point-blank.
“Oh, that’s why he’s disappeared?” Stan raises his brows. “Okay, wow. Amazing. Beautiful. Truly, everything I believed about the universe is crumbling.”
I let the quiet settle. Stan busies himself by putting together another stick of meat.
Stan doesn’t know everything. That I’ve been desperate to solve this.
That I’ve tried every route. Let him keep Elle while I burned Clo’s operations to the ground.
That I kept tabs through my contact. Stan doesn’t know that I’ve tried contacting Damon.
Numerous times with no response. Not surprising.
He’s in his honeymoon in fucking seclusion.
Probably sipping champagne while the rest of us rot. That’s when it hits me.
Damon. His comms have been down this whole time.
Off the grid’s not like him, even if love can change a man like it did me.
And Damon getting married in a goddamn day?
That should’ve been a red flag from the start.
It was by design. Clo made her move. Isolated Damon, distracted Stan, kept me away, or she fucking thought.
But Clo’s claws dig deep into too many people.
She’s the one who always knew where Damon was.
Knew his patterns. His strengths. His weaknesses.
The timing of the marriage. The distracting bride.
Everything. My jaw tightens. Clo planned it all.
And while Damon’s off honeymooning in some off-grid corner of the world, Clo’s cutting off the comms on purpose, so she can rise from the ashes.
But not this time, not if I can help it.
Stan nearly chokes on the last bite of meat he’s still gnawing on. “Okay, I can’t get this out of my head. I have to know, who the hell married Damon?”
I look up, deadpan. “Kayla Knight.”
Stan goes completely still. Then he explodes. “Kayla fuckin’ Knight?!” he yells, throwing what’s left of his skewer into the fire. “The literal daughter of Lukas and Naomi Knight? That Kayla Knight?!”
“The one and only.”
“I thought she was a myth. I heard she’s unhinged!” His eyes go wide. “Oh god, they’re married. That means the Knights and the Song-Smiths are…” He trails off, puts his hands to his face, and then mutters through his fingers. “We are so screwed.”
“Doubled the fucked-up, yeah,” I say, picking a splinter off the log I’m sitting on. “But I’ve dealt with that my whole life.”
Stan snorts out a laugh. “You say that like you’ve been tied to the Knights this entire time.”
I say nothing.
He pauses, squinting his eyes at me. “You aren’t, right?”
I stare into the fire. Then I say nonchalantly, “Kayla’s my half-sister.”
Then there’s silence. The crackle of the meat sizzling on the pit is the only sound between us. But soon enough, Stan throws his head back with a groan loud enough to wake the woods. “You’re her brother?!”
My lips twitch. “Half-brother. Same mother.”
“I’m gonna be sick.” He grabs a nearby beer can and takes a swig. “That makes you Knight-blooded this whole goddamn time. That makes you, like, second in line to the throne of that hell-pit town, Darkhaven. What the hell, Sterling? Were you just waiting to ruin my night with that one?”
I lean back. “I thought I’d let the shock of Damon’s wedding wear off first.”
“Too late. That’s compounded trauma.”
He takes a deep breath and lets it out. Stands up and looks like he’s using that brain of his for once.
“So Naomi Knight’s your mother. Her daughter, Kayla is your half-sister. Kayla married Damon. Damon’s your half-brother from our dad’s side. That makes Clo like, your evil stepmother.”
He starts pacing, muttering under his breath.
“And before this mess of a conversation, I helped you—both of us—do very questionable things with a girl we’re both in love with, on the couch I sleep on. What a fucking night.”
I glance at him. “Want to go back to not talking?”
Stan waves it off. “No, no. This is good. We’re unearthing family secrets. This is real, deep brotherly bonding. Damon wishes he was here.”
But when he drops into the log seat across from me, his voice lowers.
“The Knights…” he whispers, staring into the fire. “They run Darkhaven through money, influence, power. The type of shit that makes monsters behave.”
I nod. “They own everything the east side of this country. From the ports to the clubs. Even the blood banks.”
Stan lets out a ragged breath. “If Clo’s rebuilding better and bigger, she’ll need way more clearance. Network and trade routes. She’ll have to knock on the Knights’ door eventually.”
“She’s already inside,” I say.
The quiet stretches. Then Stan tilts his head back, giving me a narrow-eyed look. “You’ve got Knight blood. You ever think about being there? In Darkhaven?”
I don’t answer. I don’t have to.
He grins. “You’d burn that place to the ground if you could.”
I glance at the fire. “It’d be a start.”