Page 41 of Twisted Kings

“I’m alright. Are you OK?” She anxiously scanned me from head to foot then her shoulders sank with relief.

Someone, likely Eden, had given her some pink leggings and a fluffy lilac sweater to wear. It was cute, and definitely her style. Verity was very much a princess at heart.

“I can send Dar away if you don’t want him here?” I scowled at him when she turned away, but he said nothing. “Have you eaten anything?” She looked thin. Malnourished. Like our fatherhadn’t been feeding her for months. Knowing him, he hadn’t. Restricting our food intake had long been a way to control us.

She rolled her eyes. “Dar’s fine. He’s been telling me what happened.”

My eyebrow shot up in surprise at the way she referred to him as ‘Dar’. It had always been my nickname for him. As far as I knew, Dar was a relative stranger to Verity. Was that not the case?

“I always checked on her when I came to the house,” he told me. “To make sure she wasn’t being mistreated.”

“Mrs. Gia looked after her just fine,” I gritted out, annoyed he’d inserted himself into our lives after everything he’d done.

“Where’s Mrs. Gia?” Verity asked. “Is she safe?” Her lip wobbled for a moment.

“I don’t know, Ver.” There was no point in lying to her. My sister wasn’t stupid. I looked at Dario and he shook his head. “Hopefully she escaped with the other staff.” Memories of the wedding ceremony and the fire were slowly returning, and I prayed that Mrs. Gia had had the good sense to take advantage of the confusion and run for her life.

“You need to eat,” Kyril reminded me in a low voice, his presence grounding me, but I ignored him.

“Has she been checked over?” I asked him.

“Yes, the doctor says she’s fine. No ill effects from whatever Torrance gave her. She’s underweight but nothing some good food and fresh air won’t cure.”

“Come to the kitchen and eat with me, Ver.”

“We have pancakes and bacon,” Kyril said, his lips brushing across my neck.

“Yay! Pancakes!” Verity leaped to her feet with a big smile.

I caught Dario staring at the way Kyril held me possessively, but I ignored him. He was officially dead to me aside fromwhatever bullshit relationship he’d forged with my sister. If she liked and trusted him, I’d accept his presence. For now.

The thought of seeing him every day was an unsettling one, but with a bit of luck, he’d soon be gone from our lives. At least I hoped so, because the attraction between us hadn’t faded. Not at all.

And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

19

Thea

The ocean stretched away into infinity as I stood on the small beach below the house, a seething mass of angry granite-gray water. Towering waves crashed over the pebbles, sending foam flying into the wind. Gulls wheeled overhead, screeching to be heard above the roaring wind.

Salty air stung my eyes while the bitter wind whipped my hair across my face. Every step took me further away from the stone path carved out of the cliff, but I needed some space. Space away from the suffocating atmosphere inside the house, where everyone treated me like damaged goods.

It felt like I was spinning out of control, yet I had no clue why. This wasn’t the first bad thing to have happened to me. It didn’t even feature on my Top 10 List of All-Time Traumatic Experiences. So why was I losing my shit?

Maybe because I’d let my guard down.

Letthembreech my walls.

Allowed myself tofeelagain.

Wandering away from the house alone was probably stupid, but this was a private cove, only accessible from the steep path carved into the cliff at the back of the house.

It was highly unlikely my father would find me here. He had no clue Declan Kelly had become my, albeit temporary, ally. As far as he was concerned, the Kellys were small fry compared to his own operations and those of the Russians.

However, even though Kyril assured me we were safe here, my brain and body remained in fight-or-flight mode. Every time a door banged, I jumped, expecting armed men to rush into the house. Violent dreams punctuated my sleep, and as my memories of the week I’d spent incarcerated in the dungeon returned, I grew increasingly murderous.

My father didn’t deserve to live. He was beyond redemption. I had no nice memories of our life with that man. Not one. My mother was the only parent who’d treated me with love, and poor Verity had not even had that. All my sister had ever known was a half-life living in a shitty attic, hidden away from society, treated as an outcast.

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