Page 135 of Unveil
“She’ssleeping,” I hiss. As soon as her meds kicked in, she passed out from a bone-weary exhaustion that’s all my fault. I’ll be damned if anyone wakes her after the week she’s had.
“Jesus Christ, you’re almost as bad as I am,” Sol mutters. I barely register his griping as I focus on breathing out the agony pulsing in my veins.
King Fury kin don’t use heavy pain pills if we can help it. Addiction runs in our bloodline, and those types of drugs are already pushed too hard around these parts, leaving more devastation than healing. We stick to over-the-counter as long as we can, although at the moment they’re just not quite cutting it.
But I don’t care. I’ll endure this pain every day if it means Luna’s safe.
“You’re alive,” King’s voice arrives before he does. “That’s good.”
My father’s deep rumble fits him perfectly, unlike his larger-than-life presence in this cozy room, which now feels suddenly cramped as Dash and Hatch file in behind him. Other than our father’s thick beard and thirty years, we all look nearly identical, our Fury genes strong. With their massive frames combined with mine and Sol’s, my room has all the makings of a clown car inside a fun house.
My brothers have already checked on me, but this is the first appearance from dear ol’ dad. Even Grandma Fancy called this morning, taking time out from visiting our family on the coast to see how I was doing. She’s eager to meet Luna when she comes back next week, and I can’t wait either. They’ll be two peas in a pod, both spitfires who take no shit.
Hatch plops into a corner chair, black hair, scars, and his rose tattoo shielded by his backward ball cap, and sprawls outlike he doesn’t have a care in the world. But his usual feral grin has flattened into the tight-lipped smirk that always signals he’s stressed, and his eyes keep flicking to his phone, jaw tightening each time it apparently disappoints him.
I’ve only seen him like this a few times, the first after Momma died. Now, if I had to guess, he’s worried about two things. His future wife. And Dash.
Over the years, Hatch and I have been the ruthless ones, happily doing the dirty work so Dash could have a shot at something better. I think we wanted med school for him—hell, any future beyond this feud—more than he did.
But everything he’s done since New Orleans has given him a taste of the brutality Hatch and I have lived for years. I can see it in his hollowed cheeks and the darkness around his eyes that it’s haunting him like it did us, before we got numb to it. He stares off, unseeing. Probably plotting. Knowing Dash, Brylie’s presence in New Orleans won’t last long before he pulls the same shit I did.
Father’s as stoic as ever. His salt-and-pepper hair and beard add to his wise, regal air. Those shrewd eyes appraise me, no doubt finding me lacking. All the kindness Momma ever brought out of him died with her. He’d never say it, but he’s always blamed me for my mom’s death. That guilt is one of the many reasons I’ve been hell-bent on being the first to make good on this pact, protecting all our families. Every other reason is Luna.
“How are you feeling, son?”
I swallow past the dryness in my throat. “Just peachy.”
He nods, then turns on Sol, all business.
“Clearly, you see the importance of joining our side.”
“No. We’re not doing this now,” I hiss, my eyes darting to the only innocent one in all this.
Sol’s tone gentles. “Don’t worry, she won’t wake up. When she’sasleep”—he emphasizes the word, honoring Luna’s privacy—“she stays that way for hours. We’ll fill her in after she’s rested.”
Luna texted her psychiatrist on the way home to check if it was safe to take her medicine. When the doc gave the go-ahead, Luna took it right there in the car. Poor thing’s been basically out like a light ever since.
I nod to Sol, then settle in and resume my light finger strokes down her back. I still glare daggers at my father for not having the decency to wait, but I don’t interrupt.
“You should’ve called me,” King narrows his eyes at Sol, serious expression so like Dash—with a beard—I almost double take.
Sol scoffs. “I trust you even less than your boys, King. Why the fuck would I call you?”
My father scowls but straightens. “In any case, the Wildes have gone after Luna as I suspected they would. We need to discuss next steps for the Troisgarde daughters.”
“You meanex-pected,” Sol sneers. “You set my daughter up for the slaughter by insisting yourlegacy live on through strong alliances.”
“It’s not about legacy,” King counters harshly. “You may question my motives, but never question my wife’s. We wanted our children to have a chance at what we had, something a Wilde target on their back would never allow without the blood of three and power of many behind them.” His chin raises proudly, meeting Sol’s height. “You don’t know my sons, but I do. This isn’t about legacy for them either. Their Fury blood has already chosen who they belong to.”
The words rest in the air. Dash stands taller where he leans by the door, Hatch sits straighter, and my hands flex over Luna, closing over her shoulder, all of us in silent agreement. The explanation apparently resonates with Sol too, his gaze darting over us with curious interest.
King clears his throat, a glimpse of the man he used to be gone in the matter of a heartbeat.
“Without the threat of the Troisgarde backing us, Bossie and other Wilde kin will try the same stunt again, or worse. It’s only logical to seal the Bordeaux part of the truce now. Luna must marry Orion?—”
“I’m not making her marry me.”
“Oh?” my father’s brow lifts at me, his expression hard.
