Nyx #2
He’s teetering on the edge, and all I can do is pray that I’m enough to pull him back before it’s too late.
“You should probably listen to your big brother, baby boy,” Cavanaugh chides, winking at him like he’s got nothing to lose.
But I see it in my brother’s eyes—the tightrope he’s walking, the war waging inside him. It’s all there, brewing just beneath the surface.
“Dvigat’sya,” Kaios says to me, his voice low and cold, his gaze stays locked on his target. Russian isn’t my first language, but this—this phrase is etched into me like a scar. It’s not a request. It’s a warning. Move. Or be moved.
I don’t step aside, though. Not this time. “Cavanaugh, leave my office,” I grit, my focus on Kaios like he’s a bomb about to detonate.
“You think I’m afraid—”
He doesn’t finish. The look on Kaios’s face is enough to steal the words from his throat. Pure, unyielding focus. A predator’s stare. It even makes my blood run cold.
“Cavanaugh, don’t make me repeat myself,” I say, my voice as hard as iron. “Or I’ll have security escort you out.”
I hear the shuffling behind me as the bastard finally takes the hint. Kaios doesn’t look away. His eyes follow Cavanaugh like a wolf tracking prey. His muscles coil, tight with anticipation. He’s itching for blood.
But I don’t touch him. That’s a mistake I’ve made before. Touching Kaios when he’s like this is asking for disaster. Jaxon and I learned that the hard way when we first brought him from Russia.
Back then, he was quieter. Barely speaking, and switching between Russian and English when he did, his thick accent sometimes made the words hard to hear. But when he was mad—or worse, broken—he only spoke Russian. Always Russian.
The night after his eighteenth birthday was when we saw just how deep the abyss went. Jaxon thought it’d be a good idea to throw him a party, strippers included. I knew better, but I hadn’t fought it hard enough.
I remember a brunette approaching him, asking if he wanted a lap dance. He said no, a polite brush-off. But she didn’t take the hint. Her hand slid up his thigh, and in a flash, she was airborne. Kaios had her by the throat, her feet dangling, her face turning purple.
It took everything Jaxon and I had to pry his hand open and then to tie him down. The party ended abruptly. Jaxon paid the girl ten grand to keep her mouth shut and threw five grand at the others just for being in the room.
That was the night we learned about The Abyss.
Although we still aren’t clear what the fuck it is, he describes it as a black hole inside him where his “demons” play, waiting to take over.
The next few months after his party were a spiral. Liquor. Women. Destruction. Until one night, he wrecked his car and nearly killed himself.
The treatment center we took him to saved him, or at least gave him the tools to save himself.
He came back to us a little steadier, but we knew better than to let our guard down.
We invested in speech therapists, private tutors, and anything to help him adapt.
His accent softened. His demeanor leveled out.
So, it’s easy to forget that this lives below the surface sometimes. He’s improved so much, but there are times when the person he was the night we discovered The Abyss will come out, and Jaxon and I had to work together to be ready for that, too.
Because he usually doesn’t let his intended targets slide, and this tension would be so much easier if both of us were here to defuse the situation.
But I am my brother’s keeper, so Jaxon or not, I have to make sure this shit doesn’t explode.
That means I have two options; the best case scenario would be to taze him, and the worst case I’ll have to tranquilize him. This is the part of him that’s still raw. The part that hasn’t healed. And right now, I can see The Abyss creeping closer to the surface.
The door snaps shut behind Cavanaugh, and Kaios doesn’t flinch. He stares at it, his body wound tight like he’s seconds away from pouncing. There’s a beat of silence, thick and suffocating. Then, finally, he mutters something under his breath.
“Chertovski kiska,” he mutters, Fucking pussy, the words low and guttural as if his voice is being dragged through the coals.
It’s Russian again. So, I know we’re not out of the woods just yet.
Finally blinking, he shrugs off his dinner jacket, tossing it onto the nearest chair, and starts rolling up his sleeves with slow, deliberate movements.
He needs space to breathe—space to control what’s clawing beneath the surface.
Kaios moves to the side of the desk, his palms pressing flat against the wood as his head hangs between his shoulders. His eyes close, and he takes a few ragged breaths, like a boxer bracing for the next round. This is the process—the war waged in silence.
The motherfucker actually did it. And for that, I’m proud of him.
I watch as his whole body trembles, the aftermath of expending so much effort to restrain himself.
He’s vibrating like an addict on the edge of collapse, battling the draw of a darkness too seductive to resist. But somehow, I know he’s sealing The Abyss, locking it down and shoving every demon back into the shadows where they belong.
Where they belong—not him.
He exhales sharply, the sound heavy with exhaustion. “Where is she now?” he rasps, his voice raw as he blinks, clearing the fog that still clings to his eyes.
I move to the mini-bar in the corner. Without a word, I pour two fingers of bourbon and slide the glass across the desk toward him. “She’s fine. King has her. He’s taking her to Dr. Mortez to get checked out.”
Kaios lifts the glass, taking a long, measured sip before setting it down again. His jaw clenches, and I can tell the answer doesn’t sit well. “Are we sure that’s a good idea? That’s her best friend’s father,” he says, his voice tight as his gaze flickers to mine.
“That’s exactly why it’s a good idea. His daughter was drugged too,” I reply, leaning back against the desk with an easy posture I don’t feel. “He’ll look over both of them, and it’ll never hit the news. Same as when he works for us—quick, clean, and quiet. That’s why we keep him on the payroll.”
Kaios doesn’t look convinced. His lip curls in frustration as he scrubs a hand through his hair.
“Yeah, I hear you, but it’s a little different, don’t you think?
He’s known these girls their whole lives.
How’s it going to look? Naomi limp, dangling from Jaxon’s arms, and his daughter—” His voice sharpens. “Who the fuck found her anyway?”
“Xay was with her,” I say simply, knowing it’ll set him off.
He stops dead, his head snapping toward me like I’ve just said the most offensive thing imaginable. “Xayvion ‘I’ll-fuck-any-broad-with-a-hole’ Winters?” he snarls. “Are you kidding me? Perfect. Fucking perfect! That man is never working for us again. Were they screwing when it happened?”
“No,” I say, deadpan. “From what I understand, just a little dry humping on the dance floor.”
Kaios freezes, his scowl morphing into something caught between disbelief and dark amusement. We lock eyes for a beat, and then it’s over—we’re laughing, full-bodied and sharp, until our ribs ache and our breaths are ragged.
“Oh, shit,” he wheezes, swiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Well, thank fuck for that!”
“Thank fuck for that,” I agree, letting the laughter subside as I move back around the desk to sit behind it.
Kaios sprawls out in one of the chairs opposite me, his head tipping back as exhaustion paints shadows under his eyes. For a moment, I hesitate. I don’t want to bring it up again—not when he looks like this—but there’s no point delaying the inevitable.
No time like the present.
“You know we have to talk about Cavanaugh at some point, right? We can’t just let him run amok in our house and get away with it,” I say, folding my hands on the desk, the weight of my words settling between us.
He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he closes his eyes, his thoughts visibly grinding like gears in a rusted machine.
One hand grips the armrest while the other clenches and unclenches, till they finally clasp over his eyes in a motion that’s all tension and control.
“What the fuck is there to talk about, Nyx?” His voice is quiet and measured, but the implication cuts like broken glass.
“I don’t know, maybe how we’re going to keep this out of the media? Ban him from the club? Press charges? Something. We can’t just let it slide,” I say, forcing my tone to stay steady despite the fire brewing beneath my words.
Every syllable is laced with restraint, because trust me, nothing would bring me more satisfaction than putting that bastard six feet under. But doing that would derail everything we’ve been working toward, so I have to be sensible for all of us.
“So, what?” He leans forward, his elbows digging into his knees. “You want to give him a slap on the wrist like the rest of the world does for pieces of shit like him?”
He’s not wrong. Hell, he’s painfully right. But that doesn’t mean we can act on the darker instincts clawing at both of us.
“That’s not what—” I start, but my phone rings, cutting me off mid-sentence.
I don’t hesitate. Snatching it from the desk, I answer immediately and put it on speaker. “Talk to me,” I growl, letting the voice on the other side know I’m not in the mood for bullshit.
“Yeah, I get it, Xay, but that shit isn’t helping right now,” Jaxon’s voice comes through, sharp and tired. It’s clear he’s already neck-deep in thoughts about what just transpired.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, shutting my eyes to block out the buzz in my head and focus. “What’s the situation?”
“We dropped them off,” Jaxon says, his tone clipped. “As you can imagine, Dr. Mortez wasn’t thrilled.”
I almost laugh at the understatement. “How upset are we talking?”
“How upset would you be if your daughter and her best friend were unconscious, and your daughter was dangling from the arms of some unknown, sketchy-looking man?” Jaxon replies.
“First of all,” Xay protests in the background, his baritone voice loud enough to echo through the speaker. “I am not sketchy.”
Kaios lets out a low snort of disbelief. “So, you had the best of intentions for the man’s daughter then?”
“Of course,” Xay replies smoothly, his voice dripping with smug confidence.
“It’s not every day a woman gets the pleasure of a world-class fuck.
From what I’ve heard, most of the shit out there is subpar at best, and I was planning to make her see every constellation in the galaxy.
Only the highest quality for a Duchess of her caliber. ”
“For fuck’s sake,” I snap, cutting him off before his ego sucks all the air out of the room. “Can we stop talking about Xay’s dick for five goddamn minutes and focus on the matter at hand? Was Dr. Mortez pissed enough to stop working with us?”
Jaxon exhales sharply. “Almost. Honestly, I had to sit him down and tell him what happened word for word, like, four fucking times. Only after the fourth time, when he couldn’t poke any holes in my story, did he calm down enough to listen,” Jaxon explains, his frustration bleeding through the call.
Kaios shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “Four times? Jesus.”
“It’s his daughter, Mouse. The only kid he’s got,” Jaxon says, his voice softening.
“His daughter and her best friend,” I murmur, rubbing a hand across my jaw. The weight of it settles in the room like a storm cloud. “In our club, no less. Anything could’ve happened to them.”
I glance at Kaios, who is on the edge of his seat now, elbows on his knees, rubbing his fingers together in a motion that screams pent-up rage.
It’s a nervous tick, the kind he can’t help when his mind’s spiraling and he needs to unload something. A tell. One that makes me wonder if he’s about to ask the question he’s been choking on for hours.
Is Naomi okay?
But he doesn’t.
Because why the fuck would he want anyone to know he’s capable of caring?
Fucking idiot.
“Did you call the Blaine’s and tell them what happened?” I ask. “You know Alaric and Hector are friends. He’ll hear about it, even if the good doctor doesn’t give him all the details.”
“Yeah. I just got off the phone with Max before I called you.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Just that Naomi is in Malibu with Aisha, and I’ll have someone pick them up later today.” He replies. “Anyway, we should be back in fifteen minutes,” Jaxon says, his voice clipped.
Honestly, I know Jaxon cares about Naomi more than he cares to let on. There is something going on with my brothers that neither of them is inclined to admit.
Though I suppose I’m no better. She’s got an inner fire with a hint of that whole doe-eyed thing that I find intriguing— a puzzle I’m itching to solve.
“Alright,” I mutter, leaning back in my seat. “What do you want to do?”