Bones (Dark Kingdom, #5) — Chapter no 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

MIA

I SIT IN Haven’s passenger seat, staring out the window while she drives us to the hospital. I finally get to see my brother, and my mind is on Dillan.

It’s not like I ever thought I’d get the chance to marry the man of my dreams. You can’t meet someone when you’re locked away in a house all your life.

“If it means anything, Bones wouldn’t do something unless he thought it was right,” Haven speaks, breaking the silence.

“All of a sudden, you’re on his side?” I ask, not caring to look her way.

She sighs heavily. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. Bones can protect you.”

“He can’t save me,” I say softly. My chest tightens, knowing how true that is. My brothers know where I am, and they’ve put Luca in the hospital.

They cut off my lifeline. Dillan may think he has the upper hand, but he doesn’t. And even if he does, he won’t for long.

“It’s not like you have to actually marry him,” Haven goes on. “Just make it look like it’s believable. Put on a show.” She laughs. “The Kings are good at those.”

I stay silent for the rest of our way to the hospital. Parking, we walk inside and take the elevator up to the tenth floor. The door opens, and I see Nite standing up against a wall by a door. He’s staring down at his cell, typing away.

I used to think I was in love with him. Nite was the only man around my age who knew I existed, who wasn’t blood-related. Even though my parents did adopt him when we were younger. But I’m the reason he is the way he is. This is why I knew he would never find me attractive. Men like him and the Kings don’t fall for girls like me. I say girl because they prefer women.

And I’m not that. I have no life experience or education. If I manage to survive this, I’ll just be sold off again. It’s all about how much my last name can bring in.

“Any news?” Haven asks him.

Looking up, he shakes his head, and I feel my chest tighten. I did that to him. Made him a mute. Not very many people know, but I’m the reason he has no voice.

I follow Haven to the door, and she pushes it open for me to enter. His room is large, with a sitting area over by a window that overlooks Vegas.

We’re high enough up that we can see the Strip from here. The four towers that say Kingdom across the top stand out. Almost like it’s laughing at me.

A reminder that my life is a joke.

It’s not the fact that Dillan is actually pretending to love me. It’s that he’s going to let my father think he’s won. That’s a hard pill to swallow when you’ve been choking on it for years.

“Hey, babe,” Haven says, walking over to the bed. “Guess who came to see you?”

My eyes finally look at my brother, and my stomach drops. He’s got tubes and wires everywhere. One is down his throat. His skin looks ashy.

The room gives off a cold chill that makes me shiver.

I come to a stop, refusing to come any closer.

“It’s okay,” Haven notices. “They say he may not be awake, but he can hear us.” She gives me a small smile. “I’m sure he’d love to know you’re here.”

I shake my head and swallow the lump in my throat. “No—”

“Mia.” Walking over to me, she takes my hand. “I’m sorry for blaming you, but this is not your fault. Do not blame yourself.”

“But it is.” I sniff. “And I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not. None of it is. We know that, and he knows that.”

If he ever wakes up, he’ll hate me. She doesn’t know that he wanted me to stay away. That when I called him, he told me not to contact him. All I can do is prove I’m sorry, and I haven’t figured out how yet.

BONES

I PARK MY car in front of the house, not pulling into the garage around back because I won’t be here long. It’s a little after two in the morning, and I need to be up at Glass by four to close it down. Entering the house, I stop and listen. It’s silent. Either Mia’s asleep or she decided to stay at the hospital tonight. I haven’t heard from her since they left Kingdom earlier

today, and I hate how much that’s driving me crazy. I’ve never waited around for a woman to call me. Or cared to wonder where they were. I’ve always been the one too busy to text or call back. The closest thing I’ve ever had to a relationship was my high school and college years with Emilee. We were never a couple, but we had an understanding that we were exclusive. She gave me what I needed in the bedroom without the clingy girlfriend bullshit. She didn’t expect me to love her, and I didn’t feel the need to pretend I did.

Making my way to the bedroom, I open the door to see she’s in bed. Nite had texted me earlier that they plan on keeping Luca in his coma a little longer.

My cell rings, and I look down to see it’s April. “Hello?”

“Bones,” she whispers my name. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No. You’re fine. Everything okay?” As I ask the question, I’m already walking toward the front doors of my house and stepping outside on my porch to look over at theirs. I see several lights inside the house are on. I frown. She’s always up early because of the flower shop she owns, so for her to be up this late is odd.

“It’s Grave.” She sighs. “I tried calling Titan, but he didn’t answer. Then I saw your car parked out front.”

I’m running down the stone steps before she even finishes her sentence.

There’s a long pause before she asks. “Can you come over?”

“I’m already on my way. What’s wrong?” I question, my heart racing, thinking the worst. My first thought is that he’s relapsed—swallowed too many pills. He’s facedown in his own vomit, and he’s too heavy for her to move.

“I-I don’t know.” April sniffs. “He won’t talk to me. I tried calling Titan,” she repeats. “I’m sorry.” She begins to cry.

“Don’t apologize. I’m on my way.” Hanging up, I start to run across the cul-de-sac over to their house. Titan and Grave have gotten really close this year. More than they were before. Titan’s the one who dropped him off at rehab. I hate that Grave felt he couldn’t talk to me like he could Titan, but I didn’t care who my little brother spoke to as long as he sought help when he needed it.

I’m breaking a sweat by the time I run up their steps, and she meets me at the door. I notice her bloodshot eyes and runny nose. Her makeup is smeared in places and completely rubbed off in others. She’s holding a wad

of tissues in her hand. Her purple hair is up in a messy bun, but pieces fall out of it around her face. She grabs her black silk robe and wraps it around herself to cover up her white spaghetti strap shirt and matching cotton shorts.

“Where is he?” I ask, sucking in a breath.

“Kitchen,” she whispers.

I practically run down the hallway and rush into the kitchen, coming to a stop. He sits at the table, facing the five rectangular floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the cul-de-sac. The curtains are open so you can see our private clubhouse in the middle.

My eyes quickly sweep over his profile view, checking for blood or any sign of injuries, but I see none. He’s wearing a black T-shirt, showing off the tattoo of April on his arm that he had Cross do. He has his ripped jeans on, and he still has his combat boots on. He sits motionless, one hand holding a glass of scotch, the other holding the open bottle.

“Kyle?” I say his name, sitting down to his right at the head of the table.

He doesn’t acknowledge my presence, and I wonder if he’s already high on something. “Grave. What’s wrong?” I ask, needing him to speak to me. “We can’t help you if you don’t tell us what’s wrong.”

He blinks, lowering his blue eyes to the table. “Do you ever test yourself?” he asks, his voice low and rough, making me frown at his question. Before I can answer, he snorts. “Stupid question. You don’t have any limits.”

“That’s not true.” I reach out my hand to his, but he jerks away, so I pull back and link mine together on the table.

His knuckles whiten, gripping the glass and bottle tighter as if I’m going to take them away from him.

“I’m not an alcoholic.” He gives a rough laugh. “Spoken like a true alcoholic, huh?” Lifting the glass, he brings it to his face, and he stares at it like it holds the answer to all his problems. “I mean, I never needed a drink.

I liked a drink. There’s a difference. I needed the pills, cocaine …” He swallows, setting the glass back down but not letting go, and admits, “I miss it.”

I hear something to my left and look to see April leaning up against the wall under the archway at the far end of the kitchen. She’s behind him, where he can’t see her. The look of pain in her eyes makes my chest ache.

“I hate feeling.” He sniffs. “I was doing so good. Everything seemed better. But … but I keep having the dreams. Nightmares.” He corrects himself and drops his voice to a whisper. “About the baby.”

I look back at April, and she’s gripping her robe with one hand. The other is over her mouth as she begins to silently cry at his words.

“But it’s not me. It’s like an out-of-body experience.” He frowns, confused by that thought. “I’m standing by watching April cry. And I can’t help her. I can’t talk to her. I—” He sniffs again. “I’m helpless. But I can feel pain. Her pain. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Crippling. And I realize it’s not her crying. It’s me. My chest is so heavy, I can’t breathe.”

He lifts the glass once again, but this time, he slams it down on the table, making it rattle.

Looking over at April, she now has both hands over her mouth and nose as tears run down her face.

“It’s unbearable. The thought of her feeling that.” He shakes his head.

“And then like a punch to the face, it’s gone, and there’s nothing. She’s gone, and I’m watching me. The old me. I’m alone in a room, fucking high.

I tell myself to stop. To move. To get up. But I can’t. I watch myself snort a line while I scream not to do it. And I’m numb.” He looks over at me for the first time, and his eyes swim in tears. It makes my breath catch. That I can’t help him. That I can’t save him from himself. “All the pain is gone,” he says, looking away. “And for those few seconds, life is back to what it was—a black hole of nothing. Nothing exists. Not to me. There’s only silence, and I realize just how much I miss it. But then.” He swallows.

“Then I wake up, covered in sweat, trying to catch my breath. I look over, and April’s sleeping. She—” He clears his throat. “She looks so peaceful, and I tell myself that’s why I have to stay strong. For her. Because she’s so

strong.”

“Kyle—”

He throws the glass of scotch, and it shatters one of the windows, glass flying everywhere. I watch April’s body shake as she slides down the wall, pulling her knees to her chest, still covering her mouth and nose while she sobs.

“I woke up today.” He angrily wipes the tears from his face that have started to fall. “And for the first time in a while, I still wanted to get high.

Seeing her wasn’t enough. Because I’m fucking weak.” He gives a rough laugh. “That’s why I bought this bottle.” He tosses it up, catching it with his

right hand. His skull ring clanks against the glass. “I thought one bottle won’t hurt. That if I had a couple of glasses, maybe it would help me sleep.

Knock me out and keep the nightmares away. It was like I was in the dream, watching myself stop at the liquor store and buy it.” Holding it up, he scrunches up his face, and then he chucks it at another window, breaking it as well.

The sound of the glass shattering makes me flinch.

“That’s another thing that makes me weak.” Slamming his elbows on the table, he bows his head, gripping his hair.

“No, you’re not,” I tell him, clearing the knot in my throat. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

He snorts, his hands dropping. “I’m a bastard. What I said to Mia at

dinner the other night—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What I said to her up at Kingdom—”

“Grave, it’s okay. You’ve been through a lot.”

“Stop making excuses for me,” he shouts at me. “You would always cover for me when it came to Mom and Dad.” He throws his arms out wide.

His watery eyes now glaring at me. “There’s no one left but you and me now. So just stop pretending that I’m not a fuckup.”

Silence falls over the room, and I take in a shaky breath. “You’re not—”

“I just thought making others feel pain would make me feel better.” He interrupts me, softening his words. “I-I just want to feel nothing.” He chokes out the words. “And April. She deserves better. For the first time since I met her, I thought of walking away from her on my way home from work tonight. Giving her a chance at something better. What she deserves, but nothing—” He slams his fists down on the table. “Nothing short of death would make the pain of losing her go away. And that’s another reason I’m so fucking weak.” He lowers his voice. “It’s like Dad always said— love makes a man weak.”

I flinch at his choice of words. He paraphrased them, but it’s exactly what our father meant. “He was wrong.” I reach out for him, but he shoves my hands away and jumps to his feet, the chair scraping across the marble floor. “Grave—”

“That’s what makes me a bastard.” He shouts again while angry tears run down his face. “Because I wouldn’t be strong enough to let her go.” He takes in a deep breath, and we hear her sob.

He spins around, and his shoulders fall when he sees she’s been listening.

She gets to her shaky feet and runs to him, arms open, and wraps them around him. “Don’t leave me. Please … please don’t leave me,” she cries, clinging to him for dear life while his arms stay at his sides.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, so much pain evident in three little words.

Closing his eyes, he repeats. “I’m so sorry, April.”

“No.” She pulls away, placing her hands on either side of his face.

“Don’t. Don’t you ever be sorry.”

“It’s my fault,” he goes on, shoulders shaking.

“No—”

“If you hadn’t met me, then you wouldn’t know the pain I put you through. The baby…”

“No,” she growls, getting angry with him for blaming himself for something he had no control over. “That’s not true.”

“I didn’t take a drink,” he tells her, shaking his head quickly.

“I know.” She nods, sniffling, trying to pull herself together.

“I haven’t done any drugs …”

“I know, babe. I know.”

He lowers his face, placing his forehead on hers. “I … love you,” he chokes out.

She lets out a sob before licking her lips. “I love you.”

His legs give out, and he falls into the chair, and she goes with him, straddling his lap. He wraps his arms around her, softly rocking them back and forth.

“Grave!” I hear Titan call out, and the front door slam shut. “April!” He rushes into the kitchen to find us and comes to a stop.

I stand from the table and turn to face him. His wide eyes search mine and then my face. His look of concern turns to panic, and I realize I’ve been silently crying. “What happened?” he asks. “I’m sorry I missed your call.”

His eyes go to the broken windows. “What—?”

“It’s okay,” I tell him, pulling myself together. “Everyone’s okay.”