Sancte Diaboli: Part Two (The Elite King's Club 7)

How fucking wrong I was.

“Don’t start that shit.” Bishop’s voice is low, his arms crossing in front of him. I forgot he was still here.

I run my hand over my face and let out a frustrated growl. “It’s my fault.”

“Shut the fuck up, Brantley. You did what you thought was right. We know now, and she’s safe. Let that shit go, brother.” He stands, patting my shoulder. “If you need to revise it after we put Veronica down, fine. We will all sit in The Palace and fucking hash through it all, but you’re not carrying that shit on your own. I’ll see you in the morning.” I don’t answer him, and it’s not until I hear the front door close that I backhand my glass off the coffee table and watch as it flies across the room and explodes against the wall. Leaning on my elbows, I close my eyes and start counting to ten. By the time I hit eight, I’ve realigned my priorities and am on the same page as Bishop. He’s right. We need to remain vigilant. We will fucking win this. Flicking off the light, I make my way back up to my bedroom and see she’s not where I left her when I get there. I go for her room first, because if she’s in there, I’m dragging her ass out and into mine. As if I really gave her a damn choice. Do I look like fucking Bishop?

I shove the door open until the handle hits the wall on the other side.

Empty.

The corner of my lip slowly curls up when I turn and realize she’s made the right choice.

Stepping forward, I swing open my bedroom door and find her body wrapped in blankets horizontally. She’s fast asleep, with her arm covering her forehead and her leg dangling off the bed. She looks like an angel, but she sleeps like a fucking menace. I take a moment, just watching her sleep. It’s not until my eyes fall down to Hades and Kore staring up at me from the foot of the bed that I make my way into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Slipping under the covers on my side, if you can even fucking call it that, I snake my arm around her waist and yank her into my body. She wriggles in my grip. “Tired.”

I sink my teeth into the back of her neck. “Don’t care.”

She moves onto her back and rests her hand on my cheek. “It’s not because I married you tonight.” I pause. I don’t want to have this conversation with her right now.

“Not what I wanted to talk about. Go back to sleep.”

She ignores me. “It’s—there’s something I need to tell you, and you’re not going to like it.”

Instantly, my hackles are fucking arching to the high heavens for the second time tonight. Fuck. “What?”

She tries to shuffle away from me, but I tighten my grip around her waist, pulling her flush against my chest. She sighs when she realizes she can’t fight me. “You know those texts I was telling you I started receiving?”

I nod.

She bites her bottom lip. “And you know how I told you about seeing you in the limo after the ceremony?” My grip tenses around her waist. It’ll bruise. She brings her arm around the back of my neck, and that’s when I know whatever she’s going to tell me, I’m going to fucking flip.

“Before you try to tell me that I have some fucking twin brother, I don’t.”

She shakes her head. “No, I know. It’s not that. It’s, I’ve been seeing someone every time I close my eyes. Sometimes my eyes aren’t even closed.” She pauses, pushing off my chest and turning onto her back. This time I let her. Her eyes are focused on the ceiling. “At first when I saw him, I was confused. I thought maybe you did have a twin brother.”

“Wait, he looks exactly like me?”

She turns her head. “He doesn’t just look like you, Brantley. He is you.” My fist clenches. I can feel the familiar thudding of my heart as it begins racing. “In the beginning, he stayed away from me. A good distance. I’d see him when I was first in The Coven. Once or twice and it was very brief. I thought it was you those times because he was so far away and I thought you were in the limo with me. Then he started showing me weird things inside my head.” She turns back to face me, tucking her hands beneath her cheek. I don’t have the will to grab her because I know I need to snap something. Anger and frustration are swimming inside of me and I know that if I have her in my arms, I might fucking hurt her. “I think he didn’t come close to me those two times because he knew I would know it wasn’t you. The first time I saw him inside my head, I knew. Though he looked like you—a replica—it wasn’t you. He was too—simple. But by this point, he didn’t care. He almost wanted me to know that it wasn’t you.”