Page 80 of Deadly Rival

I haven’t told them what I blurted out to Ophelia. They’d tell her that if she messes up, I’m dead, and she’d go through with it because she’s too goddamn nice not to. I know she would, and even though I really, really don’t want to get my head chopped off, I can’t live with more guilt, either. I’ve done enough damage already.

They exchange another of the loaded glances I’ve seen far too much of recently, and I slam my beer down on the table. “What the fuck is it?”

Jacob doesn’t flinch, but Gabriel’s guilty glance at him confirms my suspicions. “Out with it. I’m not stupid.”

Jacob sighs. “Kendrick has an update. He’s coming later to fill you in.”

“Wonderful. You might as well talk to me now, though, so I’m prepared.”

Jacob runs a finger over his temple as though battling a headache. I’m not surprised. Quinn is great, but living with her would give me a permanent migraine.

“It’s bad, mate. You know Alfred White?” Jacob pauses, then shakes his head at my blank look. “I’ll show you his picture later. Look, there’s no good way to say this. The Calders killed his brother.”

Even though I’d braced for the words, they still cut me as deep as Harrison’s knife. I set my beer down, and it rattles on the table until I let go. “What?”

“He was in hospital, and they made it look like an accident, but Randall Calder claimed responsibility the next day. And there’s more.”

More? Worse than someone’s blood on my hands? I press my hand to my face and flinch at the sudden burst of pain.

“Randall blames you for Harrison’s death. He’s given Kendrick an ultimatum. Your head on his doorstep by tomorrow night, or he keeps killing Brotherhood family members. One a day until you’re dead.”

Too soon. Blood rushes through my veins, turning my skin itchy and hot. I want to rip the bandage off my eye and throw it away, just to be free of the constant scratchy pressure. Fuck. All the terror I’ve kept at bay surges up.

“Will he move the ceremony forward?” Is that my voice? How does it sound so steady? It should be quavering like an old man’s. I close my eye, and Jacob presses the cold beer into my hand.

“Have a drink, mate. It’s okay. He won’t if you ask him not to.”

And every day between tomorrow and the ceremony, someone will die. More Brothers will lose people. Gabriel’s mom could be a target. Jacob’s sister. There’s a good chance Randall knows who my closest friends are, and he’d be spiteful enough to hurt me through them.

I take a long drink of my beer. A few extra days don’t make any difference. I’m not going to convince Ophelia a life of servitude is her heart’s deepest desire in that time. Tomorrow, the next day, or right fucking now, I’m a dead man. No one else needs to die for my fuckup. I can do this.

“No. Tell Kendrick I’m good. We’ll do the ceremony tomorrow.”

Both the guys start to talk at once, but I hold up my hand. “If it were you, what would you do?”

The heavy silence is an answer in itself. I turn to Jacob. “Does Kendrick have a plan if she goes through with the ceremony?”

A savage grin splits Jacob’s face, revealing the predator that hides under his affable demeanor. “Oh yes. All-out assault. It’s going to be fucking beautiful.”

A man can dream.

An hour later, the girls return with Ophelia, still laughing. She’s so relaxed. All the time I spent watching her, and I never once saw her look so happy. I put it down to her being a bitch, but I was wrong. She just didn’t have much to be happy about. I smile as she catches my eye. “What’s so funny?”

Quinn answers before Ophelia can, complete with actions. “Oh my God. Some guy—don’t know who he was—brought his cat to the refectory. His fucking CAT. It was on a leash, but it kept yowling and jumping about. Then his hand slipped, and it escaped, and…”

She and the girls dissolve into another fit of laughter. Jacob rolls his eyes. “Guess you had to be there, love. Come on, we’ve got to go.”

Quinn’s hands land on her hips. A bad sign. “Why? Ophelia’s working at the med center soon. We were going to hang out here until—”

“Not happening. And don’t argue, or there’ll be trouble.”

Eve and Quinn both look between Ophelia and me, worried, then Eve smiles. “No problem. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”

With a little more muttering from Quinn, the group leaves. Ophelia gives me a shrewd look, eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

I tap my knee. “Sit, pet.”

I don’t miss the little shudder that runs through her at my words. She’s starting to like being called that. If I’m not mistaken, she’s starting to like it a lot. If I want a miracle to happen, here’s how I bring it about.

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