My Dark Knight (Kings of Hell MC 2)

“He cut you?” Beast hissed, and Knight was glad that Laurent was here too, because shit could escalate again all too fast.

“That’s between me and him,” snapped Knight, tightening his fists. His ears resonated with a dull echo as he looked back into Elliot’s tear-streaked face. His dark eyes did not lie, but Knight still could not comprehend the words Elliot clearly believed. “That can’t be right.”

Elliot’s features sharpened, and he curled his fingers around Knight’s forearms as he raised his head with a smile worthy of the Joker.

“You’re bastards. Both of you,” he let out in a hiss, and his voice—booming and low as if it was coming from somewhere at the very bottom of Elliot’s stomach—sent shivers down Knight’s back.

“It’s him. Oh, God, it’s Fane,” shrieked Laurent, and the moment he called out, Elliot pushed against Knight with a force that wasn’t his. It took all of Knight’s strength to keep him in place.

Elliot slumped, lolling his head from side to side. “I don’t understand. He also claims Laurent killed him, so maybe he doesn’t know better. Maybe he’s confused… I don’t understand.”

“Fuck me. Fuck everything and everyone,” bellowed Beast.

“He told you this?” Knight asked, trying to stop thinking of Elliot’s—no, Fane’s—words, but the more time passed the more weight settled on his chest. By the time Beast briefly summarized for Elliot that Laurent was in fact the Laurent who killed Fane, and a time traveller to boot, Knight felt as if he was wearing lead armor that had been made too tight.

Elliot’s mouth stayed open throughout Beast’s to-the-point explanation, but he didn’t utter a word, instead staring at Laurent with a vacant expression. The fact that William Fane could now hurt Elliot at any given moment was slicing Knight’s heart into pieces. At least it was taking his attention off the truth that Fane had revealed.

A dull thud resounded behind them, and they all looked back to find Gray panting, with one knee on the floor. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, raising his arm, but it only made the blood dripping down his elbow more obvious.

“Fuck!” Beast rushed toward him. “Can you stop always being the hero? You should have said it’s a major cut!”

Gray shook his head and some of the silvery hair escaped his ponytail. “It’s nothing.”

Laurent was by Beast’s side every step of the way, sending frightened looks Elliot’s way.

“We’ll talk more later, Knight,” Beast said, sliding his arm under Gray’s to lead him out. His voice didn’t promise anything good. “For now, get that asshole off the premises. I don’t care where you take him as long as it’s away from here, and away from Laurent.”

Knight nodded, shifting uncomfortably when the food he’d had earlier rose in his throat. He looked at Elliot, but it was only when everyone left that he could make himself speak again. “You heard him. We need to get moving.”

Elliot nodded and got up on wobbly legs. “Please don’t let me hurt anyone,” he whispered, looking miserable with the blood around his lips and nose, and the massive bruise forming on his cheek.

Knight gently stroked Elliot’s face with the back of his hand. “I won’t. Promise.”

Elliot flinched, and anger stirred inside Knight’s chest. He needed to focus on his assignment. He’d fucked up so many times since becoming the VP that it was high time for him to get serious.

“Did he make you do anything else?” Knight asked.

“He’s… nasty. He’s promised me so many things. I’m so stupid.” Elliot rubbed his eyes and let Knight guide him out of the restrooms.

Knight wanted to say I told you so, but in the grand scheme of things it seemed like needless taunting of a broken man. He put his arm around Elliot’s shoulders and led him into the corridor. One look through the door of the common room revealed that Jake was taking care of Gray’s wounded arm on the sofa, and that was all Knight needed to know for now. He would make his friends safe only by taking away the ghost of William Fane.

They barely talked on the way to the garage, but as they drove off, away from the drumming walls of the party and the gloom of Fane’s house, Knight felt relieved despite the tension in Elliot’s shoulders.

Elliot kept looking into the rearview mirror and clenching his hands in his lap. “I shouldn’t have summoned him, and now it’s too late. He’s nothing like I imagined. He hates everything. Hates the house, hates this car, and hates me.”

“Good. Does he hate heavy metal too?” Knight asked and switched on the radio, which immediately boomed Dimmu Borgir.

This actually managed to squeeze a tiny smile out of Elliot. “He does. He says it’s loathsome.” Elliot turned up the volume even more. The music was too loud for them to speak, but if it meant Elliot didn’t have to listen to Fane, then Knight could deal with that.