The Darkest Temptation (Made 3)

His gaze softened. “No, angel.”

The truth was, my heart had mourned my papa since I was that little girl. I mourned the father I wanted him to be. I mourned the love I needed to receive. And now, I had to mourn his death.

The wind whistled through the silos as rain dripped to the earth. Mud separated us from the men who were supposed to be my family; the ones to save me from D’yavol’s clutches. Yet in my gut, it felt like I belonged on this side.

“We did not think you would show. You are an hour late,” one of the dark-haired men beside Papa said, cracking his knuckles. Tattoos trailed up his neck, and his nose was crooked as if it’d been broken many times.

“It’s called fashionably late, Adrian,” Ronan said. “Don’t tell me you’re the guy who shows up to the party five minutes early.”

I guessed the man who spoke was my brother. Doubtful I’d ever see him in a Christmas sweater.

Adrian scowled. “You are lucky we are even going through with this trade after you have used our sister up like a whore—”

“Zatknis’,” Papa growled. Shut up.

Ronan didn’t blink beside me, but an almost imperceptible tension radiated from him.

“Do you think just because you kill our father, we will not become a bigger problem for you?” another man said. His gaze was empty, like he’d seen so much death the lifelessness had snuck into his eyes. I somehow knew this was Dimitri, my other brother, and another probable no on the Christmas sweater.

Ronan chuckled. “You couldn’t organize a luncheon, let alone an uprising.”

With a growl, Dimitri lunged toward him, but Ivan held him back. Ivan had barely cast me a glance since I arrived. He either felt guilty for leaving me to fend for myself, or he was not the man I thought I knew.

Papa must hold some esteem for his sons because the insult to Dimitri made him seethe. He glared at Ronan with venom.

“An inch. A single inch, and you would have been dead. I will regret that inch until I die.”

It felt like I had been transported to another world. One full of mud and gravity so heavy it dislodged my heart. This world revolved in the opposite direction. Spinning faster and faster.

“Then I guess you should be thankful you’ll be free of that regret shortly.”

“We have come to finish this,” Papa snapped. “So let us do it now.”

Ronan handed his gun to Albert just as Papa did so with Ivan. Detached, I followed Ronan to meet my father in the middle of opposing sides. My papa wouldn’t meet my eyes. I didn’t care. This world was heavy and unstable.

When Ronan looked at me, the spinning stopped. His eyes held me steady. Dark blue. The color of the one heart-shaped earring in my ear. And full of things unsaid. I didn’t ever want to look away, but I was forced to.

An explosion threw me back a step and trembled the ground. With a curse, Ronan shoved me behind him. Pieces of the silo flew through the air, fiery tin chunks landing in the mud. And then a closer boom split through the air, nearly knocking me off my feet. My ears rang, and I touched one, wincing when I came away with blood. Disoriented, I blinked through the thick smoke.

This world was spinning and on fire.

Both silos were in flames, and a smaller blast sent sharp shards of tin into the air. Ronan grabbed me and cradled my head against the falling shrapnel. The smoke cleared just enough to see my papa and the silver glint of a pistol aimed at Ronan’s back.

“NO,” tore through my body. I could handle mourning so much.

But not Ronan.

Never Ronan.

My heart made the decision for me. I shoved him away from me just as a pop sounded.

Then everything went silent.

The smoke drifted away.

Shrapnel stopped falling.

This world wasn’t spinning.