Chapter 14
Fourteen
Eric stood in the center of the small living room with his eyes closed, breathing slowly. The apartment was silent, thick with absence—not mere emptiness, but the weight of something recently lost.
His fingers hung loosely at his sides, but his senses stretched wide, sweeping through the space like a net cast into still water.
There.
A residual hum lingered—not just a psychic echo, but a pulse, sharp and unmistakable.
The energy signature of power, sharp as a blade and dangerous. It shimmered through the worn walls and secondhand furniture like the fading warmth of a candle blown out.
Kiki.
He didn’t need confirmation. He knew it was her. The same flicker he’d caught in the minds of the men at the paintball arena—those three tight-lipped guardians pretending they didn’t know who Nikos Aeto had brought to their underground battleground.
They hadn’t spoken her name aloud, but their minds had.
Kiki.
A name he hadn’t heard in almost a decade. And now, like a thread tugged loose from a forgotten dream, it was unraveling everything.
Fate. Always so damn theatrical.
Footsteps scuffed down the hallway, dragging him from the ether.
Lyle emerged from the bedroom, his expression tight with annoyance. “The place is empty. No clothes. No pictures. Not even a damn toothbrush.” His eyes narrowed. “She either bolted or never lived here to begin with.”
Eric said nothing at first. He drifted toward the worn sofa and brushed his fingers over the crocheted afghan draped across the back. His thumb caught on a long, calico-colored cat hair. He lifted it, studied it in the light like it was a coded message.
She had lived here.
Recently.
He moved to the window and pushed the curtain aside. Outside, the sun had started its slow descent, casting long shadows between the buildings. A car horn blared somewhere down the street, but the sound felt distant. Muffled.
Behind him, Lyle exhaled sharply and crossed his arms.
“This is a waste of time,” he growled. “She’s just some girl, man. Aeto’s got a new one every day. You really think this one’s special?”
Eric didn’t turn. His gaze remained fixed on the sidewalk below.
“You have no idea what you are dealing with. She’s not just special,” he murmured. “She’s lethal.”
Lyle snorted. “What? You tryin’ to tell me she’s some kind of gun in heels?”
“No, I’m telling you she is much more dangerous than anyone you’ve ever encountered,” Eric replied softly. “She could level a city block… with just a thought.”
The knowledge filtered through his consciousness. A faint brush of a memory. Brie’s low warning. The sense of awe and hope mixed in her voice as she spoke of Kiki.
She can free us.
He could feel Lyle freeze behind him and shook his head, pushing the memory away. The silence stretched a second too long.
“You’re shitting me, right?” Lyle finally asked.
“I’ll let you ask me that again when we find her… if you’re still alive,” he added.
He turned then, and Lyle flinched at his expression—something cold, calculating, and laced with a darker emotion. Satisfaction… maybe even reverence.
At that exact moment, the door across the hall creaked open.
Two men stepped out—mid-forties, jeans, polo shirts, matching black wool overcoats, laughing over something mundane. Their conversation died the instant they saw Eric. The taller one’s smile faltered. The shorter one gave a cautious nod.
Lyle stepped forward, walking across to them like a bulldog off its leash.
“Do you two know where the girl who lives here is?” he demanded.
The taller man frowned. “Uh… no. We thought maybe you were moving in.”
The shorter man blinked. “I… wait. I thought—” He paused, a crease forming between his brows. “No, never met whoever lived here.”
Eric tilted his head slightly. He didn’t need to hear more.
He could feel it—the fog in their minds. Like static in a radio signal. A memory scrubbed just enough to leave the edges raw and uncertain.
Kiki had been here.
And she’d erased herself so thoroughly, even those who might have been her friends at one time didn’t remember her.
Impressive.
And not something the Founders knew she could do. She had used that same talent on him. He realized now she had done it to protect her and Brie from Jeffries—and him from Jeffries wrath after the two girls escaped.
He wondered what else she was capable of now.
His smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Without another word, he turned, gliding past Lyle and the two men without a glance. He descended the stairwell in measured steps, every movement calm, deliberate. Controlled.
Behind him, Lyle cursed and stomped after him, the door to Kiki’s apartment slammed shut behind them.
Above, the two neighbors stood staring after them, confused… and a little afraid.
“What the hell is your problem?” Lyle snapped as they hit the bottom step.
Eric didn’t answer.
Not directly.
He let a slow smile curl across his lips—cold and certain. The kind of smile that promised things Lyle couldn’t begin to understand.
“I’m just thinking,” Eric said, his voice an indistinct murmur, “that if Kiki or Nikos Aeto don’t kill you… I will.”
The rich scent of roasted garlic, tomatoes, and herbs hit her the moment she stepped off the last stair. It wrapped around her like a blanket—comforting and nostalgic in a way that nearly made her eyes sting.
She followed it into the kitchen, barefoot, her damp curls tucked behind her ears and her skin still tingling from the hot shower.
Nikos looked up from the counter just as she stepped into the doorway. His smile lit his entire face. For a moment, the chaos of the last few days faded into something quieter. Safer.
She blinked… then burst out laughing.
He was wearing an apron.
Not just any apron.
A black one that read in flaming red letters:
DON’T MESS WITH THE COOK —above a cartoon dragon torching a spit-roasted human.
She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Should I be worried?”
He grinned, totally unbothered. “Only if you touch my spatula.”
Her gaze flicked to the counter—and she immediately wrinkled her nose. “Are those… vegetarian baked beans? For breakfast?”
He opened his mouth in faux offense. “Yeah, though it will be brunch by the time everything is ready. I’ll have you know that Angel keeps a fully stocked vegetarian pantry—and baked beans are considered a breakfast food… in Australia.”
“Mm, I thought we were in upstate New York, but baked beans work,” she retorted with amusement.
“You and he apparently have something in common,” he teased, picking up the can and setting it next to a pot on the stove. “I could make you a classic breakfast of… powdered eggs, baked beans, and biscuits if you want to eat now.”
She gave a playful shudder. “You’re really trying to impress me, huh?”
“Oh, I haven’t even started with my real talents,” he murmured in a low, sexy voice while wiggling his eyebrows.
She laughed. “I’ll wait. No sense cooking something just for me if you are making a larger meal.”
The kitchen door creaked open behind her. Markos entered, walked straight to the fridge, and pulled out a large container of steaks that were marinating. The moment he peeled back the lid, the rich scent of garlic, rosemary, and soy hit her nose.
Kiki blinked. “That’s… a lot of steak. You know there’s only three of us, right?”
Markos shrugged, setting the container on the counter.
“Steak and eggs, darlin’. Steak and eggs.
Nikos can keep his damn beans. Besides, we’re expecting company, and they are going to be hungry.
I’m going to do another perimeter check, then head down to the basement.
The steaks won’t be ready for at least an hour or two.
I expect a few of the guys to be here by then. ”
She stilled, barely registering what Markos was saying.
Company? How many?
Her stomach dropped.
She wrapped her arms around herself. Her breath caught in her throat as unease slithered down her spine. More people. More eyes. More risk.
More ways to be exposed.
She tried to breathe, slow and steady. Count backward from five. Don’t panic. Not here. Not now.
The door clicked shut behind her as Markos exited.
A ripple of peace ran through her when muscular arms wrapped around her waist from behind, grounding her.
Nikos’s presence was immediate. Solid. Safe.
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to mess with the cook,” she said, trying to hide her growing panic behind humor.
His lips brushed her ear as he murmured, “This doesn’t count when it’s the cook doing the messing around.”
She turned in his arms, her cheek brushing against his chest. His hands moved with hers, sliding to the small of her back. When she tilted her face up, he was already looking at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
It undid her.
Their mouths met—tentative at first, testing.
Something cracked open inside her.
Her arms locked around his neck, her fingers tangling in the damp ends of his hair. Their kiss deepened, slow and consuming. It wasn’t soft. It was… intense. Ferocious with need and hunger and something she hadn’t dared hope for in years.
Connection.
She didn’t know how long they stood like that—wrapped around each other, pressed against the edge of the kitchen table, their breathing tangled and shallow.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers. They were both panting.
His thumb traced the edge of her jaw. His voice, when it came, was fierce and low.
“I won’t let anyone touch you. No one’s going to hurt you—not while I’m breathing. You can trust me, Kiki. You can trust us.”
The words chipped away at the frozen shell around her heart, creating more breaks.
“It’s been… a long time since I trusted anyone.” Her lashes fluttered. “I wish I could make the same promise… but I can’t.”
She turned her head, her gaze drifting toward the window and the sun-dappled forest beyond. Her throat tightened.
Brie.
That night.
Everything that had changed them.
She swallowed hard, pulling gently from Nikos’s embrace.