Page 21 of Vicious King

He had the one sleeve already, when I knew him before.

But the other is new. The neck tattoos are new.

So much is different.

“Are you okay?” I ask him, and he lets out a loud sigh.

“I need to ask you that.”

“No, please tell me if you’re okay, Carson, because I c-can’t handle the fact that you’ve been alone all this time. At least I had Charlie, but you didn’t have anyone, and⁠—”

“Whoa.” He holds up his hands, and I can see that he wants to hold me, but he’s giving me time to wrap my head around everything that’s happening. “What are you talking about?”

“With your brothers gone.” I swallow hard. “He killed them all⁠—”

“No, he didn’t.”

I stop and blink, confusion and nausea rolling through me. “I was there. I heard him.”

Carson shakes his head. “He didn’t have them, and he didn’t kill them. They’re all alive and well. All married. Rome and his wife just had a baby last week.”

My legs give out, and I sit on the floor, giving in to more tears as I hug my knees to my chest and cry.

“They’re alive.”

“Yes.”

“I could have gone to them⁠—”

“That’s the other thing we’re not going to do,” Carson says as he lifts me into his arms and sets me on the couch, then takes a seat across from me the way I did with Charlie the other day. He takes my hand in his and kisses the back of it, and every time he touches me, it feels like coming home. “We’re not going to wallow in what we could have done.”

“It’s not fair.”

“I know, baby.” He kisses my hand again. “It’s not fucking fair. And they’re all going to pay for every fucking minute that I was away from you and our son.”

I clear my throat and pull in a breath. It doesn’t do any good to feel sorry for myself. To wish the last seven years away. Because it doesn’t change anything, but fuck.

“I need you to tell me what happened that day, baby, because I can’t piece it together.”

I swallow hard and take the tissue he offers me to wipe my face. I never relive that day because it was the beginning of a nightmare that I thought would kill me. It was the beginning of being without Carson, and nothing hurts worse than that. Finally, I close my eyes and let myself go back.

“We have to go kill your husband.”

What the fuck is happening?

“Who are you?”

“He didn’t tell you about me? I’m so hurt. I’m his childhood best friend.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, but those evil eyes are full of fucking delight. “You help a guy out, make them part of your family, and they forget all about you.”

“Who the fuck are you?” I demand again, but he narrows his eyes on me and slaps me across the face.

“You don’t fucking speak to me like that, you little cunt.”

He doesn’t say much to me after that, and before long the car pulls up to a warehouse. He yanks me out of the back seat and inside, where it’s just a huge, empty room. There’s nothing in here, and it echoes as we walk around, making it feel extra creepy.

“Now, we wait,” he says, glaring at me. “By the way, you won’t see your husband alive again. You’re mine now.”

Like hell.