Page 91 of Played By Design

A Beautiful Violence song from his high school band.

I read the notes next to the song.

Bunny hates it. Do NOT play around him.

Every Beautiful Violence song assaulted me the same way. Shrill feedback made my teeth ache and my skin tighten, an itch trapped beneath the surface. I couldn’t filter out the noise. It drilled through every defense until my only option was to cover my ears and escape the room.

I find other Beautiful Violence songs on the list, all with the same note. I hated all of them and started refusing to go to practice with him.

So Kain quit the band.

I focus on his face, where a bruise blooms purple along Kain’s jawline, and my chest tightens.

In school, I was considered a weirdo, struggling to pass my classes, an outcast and friendless until I met Kain. He never treated me as if there was anything wrong with me, or that I needed to change to be like everyone else.

No, Kain helped me graduate and gave my special interest purpose.

He built my reputation by working alone for years, reaching out to sponsors and tournament organizers while I was too busy playing to pay attention. He made sure I ate. That I slept. That I showered and wore my nape guard and stayed functional in a world that never stopped trying to swallow me whole.

He quit his first band because the music hurt me.

He wrote a user manual because he needed to understand how I worked.

I smooth my hand over the workbook.

Was it cheating?

Or did I misunderstand the rules?

16

The door opens, and I lift my head, expecting William to be back for another round of ill-advised help.

Instead, Lev steps inside, wearing a soft blue sweater with a floppy neck. His gray-green eyes sweep the room before settling on Kain, who lies so still under the sheet that I have to squint to make sure he’s breathing.

Ash follows, the muscles in his shoulders bunched tight beneath his black jacket.

William must have called them, thinking fellow Omegas would help me see reason.

“We brought food,” Lev says, holding up a brown paper bag.

Of course they did.

The scent of hot grease cuts through the antiseptic cloud that fills the room.

I don’t move from the chair. The workbook lies open on my lap, and I’m halfway through my third read-through.

“How is he?” Ash asks, pulling the second visitor chair closer to the bed.

I tip my head toward Kain. “Still asleep.”

Lev claims the windowsill beside me, the paper bag rustling as he reaches inside. He pulls out a wrapped cheeseburger, the white paper spotted with grease, and a carton of fries.

“These should still be warm,” he says, setting both on the rolling tray table beside Kain’s bed.

Steam rises from the fries when he opens the carton, and my stomach rumbles. The sound signals hunger, but the feeling doesn’t follow.

“Did Will call you in as reinforcements?” I ask, not reaching for the burger.