In Fury Lies Mischief (Midnight Mayhem 2)

I can’t just forgive him for all that he’s done, but to make it worse, I don’t think he can either. He didn’t just save me, I saved him, too. We saved each other through a complete calamity.

“Saskia!” Killian snaps from the entryway to the practice tent back in New Orleans. We’re setting back off in a couple of days, with Perse running the show.

“What?” I don’t turn to face him, bending over to stretch my hamstrings.

I think a big part of the tension between Killian and I is that we don’t trust each other now. Trust is the complication that delays love, it’s the bridge that joins two people together, so when that bridge burns down, it takes time to rebuild it, and that’s fine. You spend time rebuilding it, laying down the foundation again and putting all the time, blood, sweat, and tears into it, but here’s the thing. If you rebuild it, you better make sure the other is willing to cross it for you.

I don’t think either of us can say that we can. From the beginning, I struggled to differentiate what was real and what wasn’t. What part of Killian did he show me was real, and what part of me that I showed Killian wasn’t?

“Where the fuck is Lilith?” he snaps at me, rocking me out of my deep and meaningful solo therapy session.

Rolling my eyes, I stand back up to my full height and stomp down the makeshift stage. I take one step. Two. Another. Until I’m close enough to him. I’m an ant beside Killian, with his staunch height towering over mine.

I crank my head up. “I don’t know, Killian.” Then I shove him out of my way, stepping out to the heat and making my way to my RV. Lilith has moved in with me, naturally, and to say that she’s taken the transition easy from Patience to Midnight Mayhem is a lie.

It’s as though she needs to be dominated. She needs to need something more than what Midnight Mayhem can offer her. In saying that, she’s going to cause an absolute shitstorm during the shows. I’m here for it.

“Yo! Don’t fuckin’ run away from me!” Killian yells from behind me as a few people pass me by. I reach for the handle and pull the door open. Too many words are swimming in my head, and I want to drown them all.

Just as I pull it open, his hand slams against it and closes it with a bang. I feel his chest against my back, his heat radiating off him in violent waves, threatening to pull me into him.

“What the fuck is this, Little Dragon, thought we were over this shit?”

I close my eyes to reach for some self-restraint as I feel the fog from his breath whisper over the back of my neck.

He killed your father. He killed Hope. He bullied you as a kid. He tricked you while you were here and you believed him. You will always be second to Maya.

“Leave me alone, Kill.”

“Fuck that,” he growls. “I’m not leaving you alone, Saskia. You’re not winning this one.”

“Winning what?” I yell, spinning around, as rage takes hold of me. I search his eyes, the brilliant flecks of blue a deadly reminder that not all that glistens is gold.

He gestures between the two of us. “This. You’re not fucking winning this.”

“What do you want from me!” My throat swells as defeat slowly bleeds into my veins. My shoulders sag as the release I’m fighting begins to win, the rope from the tug of war that we’ve been struggling with finally about to snap.

He presses against me until my back slams against the RV. “Isn’t it obvious?” The corner of his mouth tips up, his dimple sinking into his cheek. “You.”

Tears threaten the corner of my eyes, and I find myself once again angry that Killian has me between a rock and a hard place.

Metaphorically and literally.

“That’s not something I can give, Kill.”

He stills, his hand coming to my cheek. The tug of war begins again, but my hands are tied. “Babe, talk to me.”

I dampen my lips with my tongue, squeezing my eyes shut. “I can’t forgive you right now.” My body shakes as my legs threaten to give way. My stomach flips upside down, desperate to empty its contents. “I can’t—”

His lips brush over mine, both his hands caging me in on either side of my head. “Look at me.”

I can’t. I refuse. I turn my head to the side, needing to find something else to fixate on. Something that doesn’t make my heart feel like it’s about to expire. He gently hooks his fingers under my chin, turning my face to his.

I bite down stubbornly, my eyes crossing as I come face-to-face with my—whatever he is.

“I know I’ve done fucked up shit in my life. Shit, you don’t even know the half of it. I killed your dad, I did, but I was a fuckin’ kid that was being raised with an AK as a damn pacifier. I was born a killer. We all were. If you want me to stand here before you and tell you that I’m sorry for killin’ your dad, then I can’t do that. He was a piece of shit for allowing Patience to come for you. For running as soon as your mom wasn’t here anymore to stop him—because you know that’s what happened, right? And if you don’t believe me, I have fucking proof.”