Page 193 of Kiss the Villain

“Gareth.” My lips tremble around the word. “Talk to me. Say something, baby, please.”

He blinks twice, and I think he sees me, even for a fraction of a second, but then his eyes stare up.

At nothing.

No. At something.

Anything.

Just not at me.

33

KAYDEN

“Alexander Carson speaking.”

I release a long breath at the sound of his voice.

Not too long ago, I wanted to kill this motherfucker with everything in me, but now, I don’t wish him harm—just because he’s Gareth’s grandfather.

The grandfather he wouldn’t stop talking about. Grandpa this and Grandpa that.

I don’t know when my animosity toward Alexander stopped, but it was probably around the time Cassandra started appearing in my nightmares trying to kill Gareth.

And I wanted to killher, in the nightmare, for daring to touch him.

All sorts of fucked up, I know.

“Hello?” Alexander speaks again. “Who’s this?”

“Kayden Davenport,” I say as I leave the room where Gareth is sleeping and walk down the hallway.

We brought him to one of my family’s safe houses in Chicago’s suburbs. The doctor stitched up his arm and head and said he’d lost a lot of blood, so he needed a transfusion. He also suffered a severe concussion and needs to be monitored carefully for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.

Per the doctor’s recommendations, I’m keeping him in a dark, quiet room with no screens or loud noises. I didn’t let him sleep for the first few hours, shaking him and giving him things to drink, but now, he can rest.

I’ll still need to wake him up and check his responsiveness every few hours. There should be no stress, no physical activity, and just complete rest these couple of days.

The freeze-out behavior is unlikely due to the concussion according to the doctor. He recommended having a clinical psychiatrist take a look at him.

I refused.

Gareth hates those doctors. He’s paranoid about being diagnosed like his brother or having people probe his brain.

And I will not be the reason for his discomfort. Not anymore.

“To what do I owe the call, Mr. Davenport?” Alexander’s voice sounds more professional now.

“You know who I am?”

“Everyone does.” He pauses. “If it’s not urgent, can I call you back? My grandson has gone missing, and I’m flying out to help search for him.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Pardon?”

“Your grandson’s with me.”

---