Page 83 of King of the Cage

“Yet, you mentioned them just now. Someone can be dead but not buried.”

“Well, they are. I went to their funerals.”

Bran nodded. “It’s a good start, but have you considered digging up the bones, grinding them down into gelatin, and making some nice, phallic-shaped gummies? There’s a certain catharsis from desecrating the remains of your enemies.”

My enemies? It was the very first time in a while that I’d thought of the bitter old relatives who’d taken care of me when Elio went to the military. The ones who’d poked and picked at me to be perfect. The ones who’d told me how loud I was, how smart-ass, how unwanted.

Make phallic-shaped gummies out of Mrs. and Mr. Mancini.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

For the first time in my life, I laughed when thinking about my guardians.

It had never happened before. I’d never been able to make light of it, or move past it, or see myself as stronger than it. And then, just like that, Bran O’Connor, with his macabre, irreverent sense of humor, cast Zio and Zia Mancini, giant demons in my mind, as small and inconsequential. Weak and defeatable.

Bran grinned at my outburst of laughter. The stress of the day crashed over me and only made me laugh harder. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much. Even that fact set me off again. Maybe I was losing my mind, too.

“If you don’t let me go… my brother will kill you. I’m not joking, and as annoying as you are, I don’t want to see you dead,” I admitted suddenly. “You should let me go if you want to see tomorrow.”

Bran tensed, the rapid change in subject cutting across the warm atmosphere and sobering his mirth.

He let out a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

“I wish I could tell you that I’ll let you go, selkie, but I can’t,” he said, quiet.

My brow furrowed, and I tried to understand what the hell that meant.

“Then you’ll die,” I pointed out starkly.

He shrugged. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take… to keep you.”

I had no response for that. It was incomprehensible.

“Now, eat up, wee one. Since we’ve had such an interesting day, I wanted to end it by introducing you to someone who actually matters in this city. Someone important. A VIP by any definition of the word,” Bran said, pushing my favorite pasta toward me. “Eat your fill, and then we’ll go.”

“Who arewe going to go see with all this food?” I grabbed some of the bags of leftovers from Pino’s and slid out of the cab after Bran.

He led us through the doors of a big stately building set back from the street and surrounded by trees. “You can call her Sheila. I call her Mam.”

Mam? Bran’s mother?Instant nerves flourished in my gut.

Bran was taking me to meet his mother. And by the looks of it, she lived in a long-term care facility.Had Bran mentioned that she wasn’t well?

I stopped in the hall and pulled Bran to a stop, as well.

“I’m not wearing ‘meet your mother’ clothes,” I said. To be honest, the borrowed clothes would look insane to anybody, but Bran’s mother? He really expected me to meet her in this outfit?

Bran cocked an eyebrow at me. “I wouldn’t worry about that, wee one. I’m going to be dead any day now when your brother finds out about us, remember?”

I frowned at him, feeling called out. My brother really was going to murder him any day, so why was I getting so worried about making a good impression on his mother?

I tossed my hair back and nodded.

“You’re right. I forgot. At least undo our hands,” I reminded him. “Unless you want the nurses calling the police or something.”

Bran inclined his head toward the end of the hall. “Your concern for my well-being is touching.” He undid the handcuffs with a small key from his pocket.

I rotated my wrist, trying to get the blood flowing again.

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