In Peace Lies Havoc (Midnight Mayhem 1)

“Hey,” I murmur, looking at King.

He gets up from his chair and leaves.

I rush forward, chasing him. “King!” He ignores me. When we get outside, I grab for his arm, laughing what just happened off. “Hey!”

He swings around, cutting me with a glare. “What, P?”

I still. “Wait, why are you mad now?”

He pulls at his hair. “Everything is fucked.” He grips me around my arm and yanks me toward his RV. Stepping into it is like taking a step back into the past. The smells, the setting. My small little room in the back. It all feels like lifetimes ago. He starts pacing in the kitchen, and I take a seat tentatively. King is like a ticking time bomb. Only when he explodes, those he loves and keeps close to his heart never get touched.

“Do you know what this life is about, P? I mean, really?” He pauses abruptly in front of me.

“No? I mean, yes but no. I’m hoping I’ll learn everything else as it goes on, but King, this is my family. You are my family. The Brothers are my family, and Delila may as well be my mother.”

He shakes his head, dropping down onto the sofa while exhaling. His knee jiggles from beneath his elbow as his head hangs between his shoulders. “You were right when you called me a liar.” His voice is smooth but thick like cognac. Easy enough to slide down your throat, but with the right amount of dosage, it could kill you.

“What do you mean?” I ask, kneeling in front of him and bringing my hand to his arms.

He looks up at me. “I do fuckin’ want you, P. I’ve wanted you since I was an adolescent child, and as sick as that sounds, I don’t give a fuck. I fucking want you.”

“I’m here,” I plead softly, needing him to wrap me in his arms and tell me everything is going to disappear or work out. Our lives will figure themselves out. Only I know that’s not going to happen. I know he’s not going to tell me that, because truthfully, I know this can’t happen.

My heart snaps in my chest. “I can’t lose you again, King.”

He hisses out a deep breath and leans back in his chair, flinging his hoodie over his head. The night is drifting in, darkening the inside. “I can’t fuckin’ share you, P. Ever. Even when you’re not mine officially, you’re still mine. That’s how it’s always going to be. I can’t fuckin’ function knowing you’re walking this earth, and it’s not me you’re walking it with. I can’t fuckin’ share you.”

“What?” I rear back. “What has that got to do with anything?”

He stands and searches through the cupboards. He takes out a clear bottle of Grey Goose, pouring some into a glass.

He turns, facing me and bringing it to his mouth, shooting it back. “The final act. We always have to participate. You really think I want other men salivating over you and seeing you in questionable positions, even if you’re just with me? It turns me into a feral fucking maniac just thinking of that.” I stand and walk toward him.

Toe to toe.

Converse to military.

My hand snakes around the back of his neck, and instead of his touch coaxing my pain, it only fuels my empty pit with easily digestible contents. “We can work through it.”

He pushes me away.

I snatch his face back to mine, my fingers around his cheek. “Fuck you if you give up on me again, King. Fuck. You.”

He laughs sarcastically. “You think me doing this is giving up on you, P? Quite the fucking opposite.”

“How so?”

The door slams open behind us, but neither of us turns to pay it any attention. Music pours through our empty silence. “How, King?”

He steps forward, leaning down until his lips touch mine.

I stop breathing.

“Because you get to live a life without me.” Then he walks out of the RV, leaving me breathless on the spot.

“Are you okay, Perse?” Saskia says, and I turn to face her.

She’s dressed in a tight crop top and skinny jeans, her makeup done to the nines, making her crazy blue eyes stand out. “Yes.” I exhale. “I have to be.” Though I’m angry. Like angry as fuck that I feel like we’ve done a complete one-eighty.

He wants me. I know he does. Not because he says the words, but because of the way the energy in the room crackles anytime we’re near. Like an explosion ready to collide. He’s ice and I’m fire, and every other element in-between doesn’t matter.

She hands me a drink, and I take it, sipping straight away. It tastes good. Like ginger ale only with vodka.

“Come. We’re all out in the middle. I think it’s called the pit?” Her perfect eyebrow is arched.

“Yes.” I chuckle, hooking my arm in hers. “Party pit.”