HALSTON
By the time we returned to the estate, dawn was breaking over the horizon.
The black SUV rolled through the gates like a wounded animal dragging itself home.
Blood had dried on my hands, on my shirt, beneath my fingernails.
My shoulder throbbed, every movement was painstakingly.
Oliver stepped down, he had managed to drive us home even with the state of his hand.
His arm was bandaged from the attack, blood still seeping faintly through the white wrap.
He rushed over to open the door for me.
Kaira came down and walked straight inside, of course, she was upset.
The guards rushed forward, helping me.
“I’m fine,” I snapped.
Which, obviously, was a lie.
Oliver hauled me into my bedroom, my vision was tunneling.
He propped me up against the headboard.
“I’ll go and call the doctor,” Oliver said, his face pale.
I had barely unbuttoned my ruined shirt when the door opened again.
Kaira stormed in.
She stood there, in the doorway, still bruised, still furious, still looking like she wanted to stab me with household objects.
“You bombed a family’s house.” She moved straight to murder accusations.
I turned slowly.
“Yes.” I let my gaze slide over her and kept my face blank.
Her eyes flashed.
“Yes?” she repeated.
“That’s your response?
Just yes?”
I stood.
Pain shot through my ribs but I ignored it.
“They attacked my warehouse first.”
“Oh, wonderful,” she snapped.
“That makes it noble then.
Silly me.”
“It makes it business.” I defended.
“It makes you a monster!” She countered, her voice cracking through the room.
Mine rose to meet it.
“And what exactly did you think I was, Kaira?
Huh?”
She stepped closer.
“I thought maybe—maybe after that night—you were at least capable of truth.”
I laughed.
“Truth?
You want truth?
Fine.
Victor Hale attacked my operation.
He cost me men.
He sent people into my building to kill everyone breathing inside it.
I sent a message back.”
“You bombed his home!”
“He wasn’t home.”
“But his family could have been!” The source of this chapter is g.com.
“They weren’t.
Trust me kaira, if I wanted them dead, they’d be dead.”
Her breath hitched, her eyes locked at me with a glare that could cut, a short, disbelieving scoff escaping her before she could stop it.
“Do you even hear yourself?” She uttered.
“Yes.
Perfectly.” I nodded.
She pointed at me like the accusation itself needed physical form.
“If you can do that—if you can destroy someone’s home like it means nothing, then maybe you did kill my parents.
Maybe everything you said was another lie.”
Something in me snapped.
“I DID NOT KILL YOUR PARENTS!”
The room shook with it.
She froze.
I stepped closer, every word coming out like a bullet.
“I have told you once, and I will not say it again: I did not kill your parents.
I am a lot of things, Kaira—a demon, a liar, a killer—but I am not the architect of your grief.”
“If you want to believe the worst of me to make your hate easier to carry, then by all means, do it.
I’m done defending myself.” I waved a hand, letting her have it.
Her voice dropped.
“You are still a demon.”
“I hate you, Halston.
I hate everything about you.
I hate your house, your world, your violence, everything that revolves around you.
I want nothing to do with any of it.”
She turned and stormed out, slamming the door with a rage that echoed in my chest long after the doctor arrived to stitch the holes in my skin.
For three days, the mansion was a tomb.
She stayed in her room, I buried myself in work, we passed each other like strangers haunting the same building.
By the fourth morning, I was starting to miss the violence, the tension that always stayed between us.
I walked into the kitchen holding a file, already dressed for the day.
Kaira was there, sitting at the island counter with coffee, looking half-awake and fully annoyed to be alive.
Some things remained constant, I guess.
She glanced up briefly then back to her cup.
I placed the file in front of her.
“Go through it.”
She didn’t look at me.
She opened it lazily, her eyes scanning the first page.
Then, she froze.
“What is this?” she asked, her stare restrictive as a corset.
“Our wedding plans,” I said, leaning my weight against the counter.
She let out a sharp laugh, a beautiful one, till she realized I wasn’t joking.
The smile vanished.
“You’re serious.”
Tilting my head slightly, I shrugged.
“Unfortunately for you, yes.”
“You must be delusional.”
“You said you wanted nothing to do with my world.” I stepped forward an inch.
“Too bad,” I paused.
“That is the one wish I intend to deny.”
I leaned in closer, my shadow falling over her.
“Now you will be legally tied to this world.
To my name.
To me.” I grinned.
“Is this your form of punishment?” She looked at me like she wanted to burn me where I stood.
“Smart girl.” My smirk deepened.
She snatched the papers and flung them at my face.
They scattered like white birds across the floor.
“I would rather die,” she hissed.
I brushed a paper off my shoulder.
“You do seem remarkably committed to dying.”
I adjusted my cuff.
“But first—the wedding.” Stepping back a bit.
“Then death can be arranged after.”
___________
That afternoon, she called my bluff, but soon after, the event planner arrived with the bridal stylist.
Oliver followed with a legal team carrying documents.
Kaira sat in the center of the living room like a statue of pure spite.
She wouldn’t speak.
She wouldn’t choose a color.
She wouldn’t even look at the stylist.
The bridal stylist attempted enthusiasm.
Poor woman failed woefully.
The event planner tried discussing floral arrangements, Kaira looked at the pictures like the flowers personally offended her.
“It’s unfortunate you think your opinion is required,” I said, stepping into the room.
I held a yellowed, aging document in my hand.
“Meanwhile,” I added, “the public announcement was made an hour ago.”
That got her attention.
“What?” Her eyes widened.
“Press release.
Social circles.
Business circles.
Congratulations are already arriving.”
I dropped the old document into her lap.
It was her father’s handwriting.
The ink was faded but the signature was unmistakable.
It was a betrothal contract between our fathers.
Her fingers trembled, her voice broke.
“No…”
“Your father didn’t only use you as a replacement for a debt, Kaira,” I whispered, watching the shock drain the color from her face as she read the betrothal clause dated twenty years ago.
“He left me you.
You’ve been mine since the day you were born.
Now, it’s time to make it official.”