Jay was still sobbing, half from the pain, half from watching me smile through it. I let him cry. He earned that ache.
But the one in the wheelbarrow?
He hadn't yet.
I walked over slowly, cracking my neck. My wound tugged at my side, a low reminder that I wasn't invincible, but adrenaline was a hell of a drug. That, and rage. I kicked the side of the barrow.
The bastard jerked awake with a grunt, arms twitching against the zip ties behind him.
"Rise and shine," I said.
His eyes snapped open, and that panic set in fast. Good. That meant his head was still working. He looked around, saw his friend bleeding and shuddering in the chair, saw the rusty metal glinting from the tool bench behind me.
"Don't worry," I added softly. "I haven't decided what I'll use on you yet."
"F-fuck," he breathed.
"Not quite. Let's get to know each other first."
I dragged him out of the wheelbarrow by the collar and dropped him into another chair I'd bolted to the floor. He winced, his heels barely brushing the ground, legs dangling useless now thanks to what I'd done earlier.
"Name."
He hesitated.
I slapped him hard across the face.
He bared his teeth. "Tino."
"See?" I smiled. "That wasn't so hard. You work under Scorpion?"
"Not directly," Tino panted. "I, I'm freelance. Hired muscle. Reddick pulled us in from the south. Said it'd be easy money."
"Why me?"
Tino looked at me like I'd asked the dumbest question on earth.
"You're King, the ghost story, man. You think nobody's coming for that throne?"
I didn't blink. "Is Scorpion behind the contract?"
"Yes, but not just him. There's talk. The old guard's divided. Everyone's trying to claim a piece of you. Some want you dead. Some want you captured. Some… want to put you in a box and show the world they own the crown now."
"So…" A wide grin stretched across my face. "Which one are you?"
He didn't answer.
So I grabbed a small screwdriver and drove it straight through his thigh.
Tino screamed, arching forward, shaking like a dying engine.
"I asked," I said, "which one are you?"
"I, wanted to kill you," he gasped. "I thought it'd be fast. Clean. One bullet. That's all I needed."
"And then what?" I asked, twisting the screwdriver just a little. "Frame someone else? Dump me? Take the bounty?"
"Bounty?" he coughed. "It's not just about money anymore. For Scorpion. It's power. If he drops you, he becomes king."
There it was. The truth. Bitter and stupid and expected.
I stood slowly, dragging a wrench across the floor behind me like a leash.
"You fucked up."
Tino's breath hitched. "I didn't know it was really you, no one was sure, "
"You should've trusted your gut."
And I brought the wrench down across his shoulder. Bone cracked. Tino screamed again, and Jay sobbed louder from the corner.
I leaned in close, blood spotting my cheek.
"Tell your little friends," I whispered. "The King doesn't need a throne to draw blood. I don't want the crown. I don't need the seat. But if anyone thinks they can take my head without consequence, "
I grabbed Tino's chin and forced him to meet my eyes.
", I'll bury them with it."
•••
The screams stopped echoing a while ago.
Now all I heard was the soft tick of cooling metal and the wet squelch of old blood drying on concrete.
Jay was unconscious. Tino was barely clinging to it. I'd tied them tight, wounds wrapped in motor shop rags just enough to keep them alive. For now. They'd stay tucked in the corner like leftovers until Rocco picked them up for disposal.
I didn't need the mess. I just needed the message.
I ran a hand through my hair, took one slow breath, and felt it.
That sick, hot seep down my side.
I looked down.
My shirt, already black, was soaked through again at the hem, blood painting it fresh. My side throbbed with sharp heat, the kind that warned you you'd gone too far.
I cursed under my breath, sat on a stool, and dialed.
Rocco showed up ten minutes later, already muttering.
"Are you insane?" he hissed the second he saw me. "That's not a scrape, that's a rip. You reopened it."
"Didn't have a choice."
"Liar. You wanted to." His eyes darted to the corner, where Jay and Tino were still breathing. "Jesus. What did they say?"
"Enough," I said, shrugging off the wet shirt with a wince. "But they'll say more. Eventually."
He handed me a clean black hoodie and a small med kit. I ignored the kit.
"Kieran," he said, tone clipped, "let me patch it. You're pale as a ghost."
"I've been gone too long."
"She's not your nurse, "
"She called."
I showed him the phone, three missed calls from Kina, all around the same time. And one text:
"You okay?"
No emojis. No fluff. But it made something tight pull behind my ribs.
"She's probably worried I got shot again or something," I said quietly, zipping the hoodie.
"Exactly why you shouldn't bring that into her space," Rocco muttered. "You can't bleed in two worlds, boss."
"Watch me."
I stepped out of the garage before he could say more.
The walk back felt like someone was squeezing my lungs and side with every step. My vision blurred at the edges. The taste in my mouth turned metallic. I'd pushed too hard, but I'd do it again if I had to.
It was almost 11 p.m. when I reached her apartment. The lights inside were off except for the warm glow of the TV.
I turned the knob slowly and stepped in.
And there she was.
Kina.
Curled up on my couch. Her cheek smooshed against the throw pillow, mouth parted slightly as she let out the softest little snore.
Phone still clutched in her hand.
She hadn't gone to bed.
She was waiting.
Something tugged hard at my chest. Not the pain. Not the wound. Something worse.
Something softer.
I leaned against the doorframe, dizzy and stupid and aching, but I still smiled.
Because somehow, in a life full of blood, betrayal, and silence…
This little apartment and the angry girl snoring on a couch too small for two?
Felt the closest to peace I'd had in years.
I closed the door quietly, locking it behind me with a soft click. The living room was dim—just the bluish glow of the TV painting faint shadows over her face.
She hadn't moved.
Still curled into that ridiculous pillow with her nose slightly squished and her phone clutched like it owed her money.
I stepped forward slowly, silent, my boots barely kissing the floorboards. Every breath hurt like hell. My side throbbed beneath the hoodie, hot and slow, but it was dulled by the way she looked right now.
So unbothered.
Like the world wasn't burning and someone hadn't pointed a gun at her last two weeks or so.
Her lips parted again and she mumbled something in her sleep.
"—no, I sent the report…triple checked…"
I blinked.
The fuck was that?
Another half-sentence stumbled out of her, something about spreadsheets and export permits, and I just… stared.
She was dreaming about work.
Even in her sleep, she couldn't clock out.
I hovered, unsure. Maybe I should just leave her be, crash on the floor or something. But one glance at the bandage under my hoodie made it clear I wasn't doing the damn floor tonight.
I looked down at her again. Should I… move her? Carry her to bed?
And have her wake up mid-air, flailing like a rabid raccoon?
Yeah, no thanks.
I let out a quiet sigh and lowered myself slowly, painfully beside her. Every muscle protested. My side pulled with a sting that made me grit my teeth, but I managed to drop onto the cushion beside her.
I didn't lean back, just sat there. Breathing. Watching her.
She shifted, her hand brushing my thigh.
I froze.
But she didn't wake up.
Just sighed again, softer this time. Like whatever nightmare meeting she was having had ended.
And I wondered…
How could someone be so comfortable? So unaware? How could she fall asleep, knowing someone like me was around?
Was it stupidity?
Or trust?
Either way… it made something ache in my chest.
Because if she ever let her guard down like this around the wrong man, it wouldn't end with her snoring on a couch. It would end with her in a headline.
I leaned back slightly, careful not to wake her, and stared at the ceiling.
"Idiot," I muttered under my breath.
But I didn't mean her.
Not really.