“Sweetheart?”
Elsa doesn’t hear me. Her gaze is glued to our youngest son’s unmoving body through the window.
He’s been hooked to those machines for two days now, and there’s still no sign of him coming back to life.
To us.
A fact that’s been stressing Elsa and slowly robbing her of the light that I’ve always loved about her.
The same light that Creighton put there the moment he came into our lives.
Now, he’s slowly but surely sucking it away.
“Elsa,” I call again, more firmly this time.
My wife finally slides her attention from the window to me. Her beautiful long hair has lost its shine in the span of forty-eight hours, her face is pale, and dark circles dim her usually electric-blue eyes.
They’re lifeless now, like the rest of her.
I’ll commit murder before I let anything rob away my wife’s life source.
At this very moment, that happens to be Creighton.
“You should go back to the hotel and rest.” It’s surprising how calm and collected I sound, considering the circumstances.
“No, I’m fine.”
“You look positively exhausted.” I grab her wrist and clench my jaw. “And your pulse has weakened.”
She pulls her hand from mine subtly but with enough force to have my entire body tensing. “Our son has been shot and he’s refusing to wake up. My whole life is in proper chaos right now, so my pulse is the last thing on my mind.”
“It’s the first thing on mine.” I wrap my hand around her waist and slam her to my side. “And what did I say about pulling away from me, sweetheart, hmm?”
Her worn-out face creases. “Aiden…”
“What the fuck did I say?”
She releases a long sigh. “That we can be mad at each other while you touch me.”
“That’s right. So don’t attempt that stunt again or we’re going to have a problem.”
“We already do have a problem.” Her voice becomes brittle and she trembles in my arms as she stares through the window again. “What are we going to do if he doesn’t wake up?”
“He’s Creighton, sweetheart. The same Creighton who crawled out of that gas-infested house because he refused the ending his monster of a birth mother chose for him. He’s the boy who accepted us wholeheartedly and called us Mum and Dad within the first month of coming to live with us. He chose us as a family, and we’ll have to believe that he’ll keep choosing us.”
A tear rolls down my wife’s cheek and I want to massacre that fucking tear to pieces. I want to stab the pain that’s haunting her and choke it to fucking death.
“But what if he doesn’t? What if he…went back to asking questions about who he is and where he came from and why he had to crawl out as a little boy? What if he stopped asking those questions out loud and started to answer them privately? Maybe…maybe that’s why he got shot.”
Her heartbeat quickens against mine, and I want to shake the fuck out of her for it. The doctor said that it’s recommended to not expose her to extremely stressful or emotional situations.
Which is why she works less now and spends most of her time talking to our kids and having girl time with her friends—that I absolutely loathe, by the way, because that means less time for me.
Or more like she talks with one demon spawn—Eli. It’s a known fact that Creighton would rather sleep than indulge in small talk. We’ve always respected his nature and his constant need for space.
But what we’ve been afraid of all along seems to have become a reality. It’s been some time since I suspected that his need for space is actually him withdrawing into himself to plot self-annihilation.
Still, I force myself to keep calm and stroke her waist in a soothing rhythm. “Breathe, Elsa, and while you’re at it, purge those cancerous thoughts from your head.”
“But—”
“Now.”
She goes still at my harsh command, then she glares at me. Good. Glaring means she’s distracted and won’t allow that poison to consume her. Little by little, her pulse returns to normal and she releases a long breath.
“You and your orders are too much,” she mutters under her breath.
“You letting dark thoughts consume you is the actual definition of too much.” I soften my voice. “Go rest, even for a few hours, then come back.”
“I don’t want to leave him. What if something happens when I’m not here?”
“I’ll be here. So will all the kids that alternate visitation time.”
“Still…”
“Elsa. Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder and personally drag your tight little arse to the hotel. You know I’m fully capable of that.”
She lets out a resigned breath. Though it doesn’t really matter whether we do it the nice way or the rough way. My wife knows full well that I would act on my every promise.
“I’ll take you back, Mum.” Eli appears from around the corner like a shadow, probably having eavesdropped on the whole conversation.
He has that loathsome habit that I tried to get him to drop when he was a kid, then soon gave up when he escalated. Eli understood early on that information is power, so he made it his mission to get his hands on any valuable tidbits.
That includes his own parents.
He wraps his hand around Elsa’s shoulder and gives me one of his fake smiles.
I don’t release her.
He doesn’t release her.
Elsa sighs. “You guys know that I can actually go back on my own, right?”
“Nonsense,” I say.
“No way,” Eli says at the same time. “I’m sure Dad will keep an eye on Creigh just fine as I’ll make sure you’re all comfy, Mum.”
“Aw, baby. What would I do without you?” She smiles at him, and although she still looks exhausted, some of that light returns.
“Live a boring life with Dad, probably. Sounds tedious even thinking about it.”
“I will kill you,” I mouth so his mother doesn’t see.
“Mum.” He puts on his acting cap, which he most definitely learned from that fucker Ronan.
Note to self: make him pay next time I see him and promptly think of a way to escape my wife’s wrath.
“What is it, hon?”
“Dad just threatened to kill me.”
“Aiden!” She furrows her brow and Eli grins in the background like a little devil. When Elsa focuses on him again, he switches back to the hurt expression. “You know how your father likes to threaten for sport. He doesn’t mean it.”
“I’ll take your word for it, Mum. Now, let’s go. I’ll escort you safely to the hotel. No one can protect you better than I can.”
“Like the way you protected your younger brother?”
Elsa pales and Eli freezes. His face gradually loses all humor and his posture stiffens.
“Aiden,” my wife whispers. “How can you say that?”
“Isn’t it the truth?” I don’t break eye contact with my son, the one who resembles me so much that it feels as if I’m staring at a younger version of myself. “You had one mission. To keep an eye on your brother and not let him spiral down any destructive paths and to inform me or your grandfather if anything were to go awry, but you’ve failed that with flying colors.”
“I had it under control.” His voice hardens, all attempts to rile me up gone now that he’s the one under attack.
I point at Creighton through the window. “Does that look under control to you? He’s fucking dying.”
“He is not dead.” Eli’s jaw clenches. “I left for a minute, to fix another situation, and when I came back—”
“All I hear are excuses.” I tower over him. “Admit that the situation got out of your control.”
His lips purse.
“Say it, Eli. Say that I’m right and Creighton should’ve stayed in London, where I could’ve monitored him better.”
“And you think that wouldn’t have cost him his life, Dad?”
“Stop this, please.” Elsa places a palm on each of our chests. “This isn’t the time to throw blame. We’re a family and we’re supposed to stand together at times like these.
“It was under control,” my son repeats.
I step toward him. “If you don’t admit you’re wrong, you’ll never win, punk.”
He glares at me and I stare back, not backing down.
Eli and I share the richest yet most complicated relationship any father and son could have. Ever since he realized what a challenge is and that I’m the best opponent he can have, he’s been actively trying to get on my nerves.
I gave him leeway when he was young since I understood him the best. If there was anyone who knew what it meant to try everything under the sun just to stop being so fucking bored with life, it was me.
Since I didn’t want to recreate the strained relationship I once had with my own father, I gave him green light to do everything he wished. Even supported his methods that are socially frowned upon. Where Elsa tried to shackle his nature by teaching him about love and sunshine, I let it loose. When she wanted to take him to a therapist, I vehemently refused.
Just because we’re different, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with people like us.
It’s not our fault we were born superior. The world needed to learn how to accept us like Elsa did.
However, Eli never, and I mean never, saw any attempts I made to understand him as support. He had this weird fixation about winning against me. In everything.
He’s competitive to a fault, and goes against me in whatever he finds worthy of his time. Including gaining the affection of his mother and brother.
Which is why I went off on him just now. He needs to learn that Creigh’s life isn’t a fucking game that he can use in his plans.
“Um, hi.” A small feminine voice breaks the tension.
Elsa smiles, completely ignoring us, and goes to hug the newcomer. After they break apart, she strokes her hair like a loving mother.
My son watches the entire exchange with a stiffer posture, his eyes darkening until they’re almost black.
“Ava, honey. What are you doing here?” Elsa continues patting her hair and clothes, not leaving a single imaginary wrinkle alone.
My wife always wanted a little girl, and since she didn’t get one, Ava kind of volunteered to act as her surrogate daughter.
Sometimes, Eli used to grumble, like a sorry sod, that Elsa loved her more than she loved him and Creigh.
A fact that my youngest smiled at and teased his brother about.
As much as Eli can be difficult, he’s still the best brother Creighton could’ve had. Which is why I’m pissed off that he failed to protect him.
Ava keeps her full attention on my wife. “Uncle Aiden texted me.”
“You did?” Elsa asks me. “You should’ve let her rest and go to school. She was here last night.”
“I thought you’d be more at ease if Ava took you back and stayed with you. She already agreed. Isn’t that right, Ava?”
“Yeah, sure!” She interlinks her arm with Elsa’s and smiles. “Anything to help and spend more time with you, Auntie.”
“I’ll be the one to take Mum back. You. Leave.” Eli steps toward them, having completely forgotten about the topic of discussion from earlier.
“Eli! Don’t talk to Ava that way,” Elsa scolds.
“Never mind him. Uncle Aiden invited me over, so his opinion doesn’t matter.” Ava’s smile falters before she forces it back in place. “Let’s go.”
My wife gives me a warm look and doesn’t protest as Ava leads her down the hall. Eli follows after.
Silently.
If I had known Ava’s presence would have Elsa finally listening and actually relaxing, I would’ve had her come a long time ago.
I slide a hand in my pocket as I stare at my son’s unmoving form. The doctor said it’s entirely up to him now, and while I threatened to kill all the doctors and sue the hospital if something happens to him, I know the current situation is all on Creigh.
There’s a hurdle that’s stopping him from opening his eyes.
What, I don’t know. But I’m sure it has to do with what the kids have been whispering about in the corner and refusing to tell us.
Needless to say, I know this isn’t some robbery like the shit actors, except for Landon, tried to convince us of. They got their stories straight, but it was all too perfect and had Lan’s scheming stench all over it.
I’m curious to know what drove them to go to such lengths.
The only one who can answer my question is none other than my nephew, Landon. The others are easier nuts to crack and would bring me faster results under duress, but he’s the mastermind behind this and, therefore, he’s hiding the true reason.
One problem, though. He’s been methodically avoiding being cornered by me.
An issue that I’m currently finding a way around. Just like I found a way to have Elsa actually rest instead of straining herself.
My gaze flits to Creighton and helplessness bangs against my rib cage. The fact that I can’t do anything to get him out of this state, short of inventing a time machine, wraps around my neck like a noose.
Eli is my biological son, my flesh and blood, and the only son I thought I could father, but it’s Creighton who’s has been the son I didn’t know I needed.
He’s the one who randomly texts me a new fact he’s learned or makes sure I’m included whenever that punk Eli tries to antagonize me for sport.
He plays the mediator between us, the link that keeps our father-son relationship functioning. Without him, we’d probably fall apart.
Not once have I considered him any less just because we don’t share DNA. Creighton is proof that family doesn’t depend on blood, and I considered him a miracle, just like Elsa did.
“Wake up, son,” I whisper, my voice gaining a haunting quality in the silence.
I know he can’t hear me, but I’m ready to try any method, including satanic rituals, if it means we can get him back.
Which could start with pestering the doctor. So I do just that, barge into the chief doctor’s office while he’s in a meeting.
He and his associates gape at me as if I’m the devil fresh out of hell.
“Mr. King…is there anything I can do for you?”
“Besides actually being competent and bringing my son back to consciousness?”
Dr. Strauss, a bald old man with bulging brown eyes and a pointy nose, appears flustered. “As I told you, we’ve done everything we could.”
“Not enough to make me pour more donations into this establishment and satisfy your research kinks.”
“Mr. King—”
“If he doesn’t wake up in the next twenty-four hours, I’m transferring him back to London and cutting off my checks.”
I don’t wait for his reply as I stride out of the room, not feeling even the slightest bit relieved.
Stopping by the vending machine, I pause when a finger comes from behind me and hits Water.
“Only mineral water is good from these waste-of-space machines, right?”
I grab the bottle and turn to face my nephew.
Lan leans back against the wall, arms and ankles crossed as a shadow of a smile tilts his lips. “Hi, Uncle.”
“That didn’t take long.”
“You can’t just text me that you can hand me information and not expect me to show up. Though it’s a low blow, Uncle. You all but dug a hole in the place where my heart used to be.”
“Quit the dramatics, and stop hanging out with Remi and picking up his nasty habits. Now, tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“The truth about what happened to Creighton. Who did that to him?”
“Nah, I planned that whole thing all too carefully, I can’t just tell you my secrets.”
“Either you tell me or there will be no deal.”
“Jesus. You sure we’re actually family?”
“Probably a mess-up in genetics.”
He chuckles, the sound easy. “Well, I’m not that opposed to spilling the truth, but it depends on whether or not you’ll hate me if you know I was the one who dug up and shed light on Creighton’s past.”
My jaw clenches, but I force the discomfort down. Deep down, I knew there would be a day when Creighton would get in touch with his past, no matter how much my father and I tried to block it.
“You’re not mad?” Lan asks slowly.
“I’ll beat you the fuck up later, but that doesn’t answer why he’s in this state.”
“Thing is, Creigh always wanted revenge, so when he found out the name of the couple who caused the demise of his family, he went after their son.”
“Is he the one who shot him?”
“Nope, his sister did. I swear to fuck, I didn’t think that Barbie doll had it in her, but then again, maybe I underestimated her, considering she’s a mafia princess.”
“A mafia princess,” I repeat, not asking a question.
Of course.
Elsa and I first met Creighton in the States when we were visiting my friend, Asher Carson. Back then, his wife, Reina, was sponsoring a three-year-old orphan in one of the organizations she runs.
He looked lifeless and scrawny and apparently escaped death by an inch.
My wife fell in love with him immediately. Up until that point, she was having these sad episodes whenever she saw children. She always wanted to give Eli a sibling, preferably a sister, but since the doctors said that her first pregnancy was a miracle and any additional pregnancies would bring certain risk to her life, I had a vasectomy.
Because there was no way in fuck I’d put her life in danger.
She understood that decision, but she cried anyway. She was depressed for a whole month after I killed her hopes for another child of our own, and while I hated seeing her like that, I never regretted the procedure.
We’d never thought about adoption prior to hearing about Creighton, partly because the topic of children made Elsa depressed, and I honestly didn’t think I could care for someone who wasn’t my flesh and blood.
But that was before we met Creighton.
When Elsa looked at him with those motherly eyes, I didn’t think twice before asking her if she wanted the child to be her own.
I’ve never seen my wife so irrevocably happy than in that moment. The look in her eyes rivaled with the way she looked at me on our wedding day and when Eli was born.
But we understood that Creighton came with baggage. Reina told us that her sister, who was tied to the Russian mafia, was the one who’d entrusted him to her, and he had an ambiguous past that they weren’t willing to divulge.
I figured the reason his parents had died was because they’d pissed off the mafia, but Reina assured us that the boy had no ties whatsoever to the mob.
And I assured her that he’d only be a King going forward. No longer American, no longer alone.
He’d become my son.
“That’s not the worst of it.” Landon’s voice brings me back to the present.
“What is then?”
“She’s Creighton’s girlfriend. Or was, considering the circumstances.”
“What?”
“The one who shot him is his girl,” Lan repeats. “So the thing is, I’ve been looking into his past for some time, but I only managed to corner the guard with the right information recently. Once all the pieces of the puzzle were in place, I tried to warn Creigh away from Annika, but he was too pussy-whipped to listen. Now that I think about it, he looked more devastated finding out she’s the daughter of the people who wronged him than he was about his origins. Do you think that’s why he provoked her so she’d shoot him?”
“Tell me more.”
I listen carefully to Lan’s recounting of events. By the time he’s done, I’ve already formed an image in my head regarding what seems to be the issue.
Landon gets his prize and says he’s going to find his brother, who’s in a place he’s not supposed to be.
I’m still thinking about my nephew’s words when I arrive in front of Creighton’s room.
My feet come to a halt when I catch a glimpse of a petite girl in sweatpants and a hoodie, her hair falling on either side of her face, and she’s crying. Silently. As she glues her face to the glass. Both her palms are on the surface, her lips trembling as she murmurs something I can’t hear.
That must be Annika Volkov.
The girl Eli was giving Creighton shit about when they talked to Elsa once.
My wife wouldn’t shut up about it that night, retelling me every word with her bright expression and smiley face. She was so happy that her youngest was finally finding love.
She’d assumed both our boys would die alone and she wouldn’t have any grandchildren but was happy to be proved wrong.
Annika is also apparently the girl who shot my son.
The one who stabbed him in the back when it mattered the most.
I approach her with powerful strides. She doesn’t sense me, seeming too focused on the other side to notice her surroundings.
When I stop behind her, I can hear what she’s whispering in a brittle voice.
“I’m sorry…so sorry… Please wake up… If you do…if you do, I don’t mind if you kill me. I’m so sorry, Creigh…so sorry.”
“Is that all you have to say after what you’ve done?”
She flinches, and slowly turns around to face me, her eyes wide, her cheeks tear-streaked, and I realize exactly what she is.
Annika Volkov is the missing piece that’s forbidding Creighton from waking up, and I’ll do anything to get my son back.
