Page 56 of Chaos Kills

“Aboutwhat?” Levi doesn’t pry his fixed stare off Ozzy, sounding fatigued, as if he doesn’t have another ounce of energy to spend on it. “And why does that include a damn shotgun, Astor?”

I take a page out of Ozzy’s book and choose not to respond.

“Well?” My best friend steers his question to me, but it lacks the sternness and irritation of just a moment ago. “Do I get to stand here and guess all night? I’m tired, Bay.”

Same.

However, my best friend deserves an answer.

“I was just looping Ozzy in on what happens when he breaks into my house in the middle of the night with my sisters inside.”

His brows clash. “He just brokein?”

“No, months ago. He was with Reeve Stanton that night. The one when I shot?—”

“Oh.” Levi advances to the kitchen, suddenly ignoring the firearm in the room. “That.”

Huh?

I gape at him as he yanks open the fridge and pulls out three beers, balancing them between his thick fingers as he comes up to my side to deposit them.

“What?”

My lips press together to form words, but they don’t correlate with my brain.

I remember how pissed he was the following day. How I needed to take it more seriously. Asking me if I pissed someone off in a way that would’ve led them to breaking and entering.

Levi reaches for the shotgun still aimed at Ozzy and slowly lowers it. “Easy, killer. I’ll explain everything.”

No shit.

But I can’t fathom how Levi is calmly standing here like I just told him about some random, insignificant thing.

“Oz sought me out when he discovered which house he had broken into. Apparently, he didn’t know who was inside only that he had orders.”

“From?”

“Emilio.” He twists the cap off the Coors Light bottle and takes a generous swig. I watch the black ink of his tattoos move with each swallow, then he smacks his lips together.

“And that’s why he’s not dead yet.”

“I…”What the hell? “Tell mehowyou’re okay with this. I’m still hella confused.”

“Because he’s Ellie’s fucking brother.” He whips his focus to Ozzy. “Andthat’swhy he’s not dead…yet.”

Slowly, my head cranes back to Ozzy, who’s still just aimlessly staring at me. A surge of protectiveness claims me, and I narrow my focus because— “No…you’re fucking not.”

Ozzy, shockingly, doesn’t confirm or deny the fact.

Ineedhim to confirm or deny that fact. Preferably deny.

All day deny.

“He is,” Levi confirms flatly, bringing his beer back to his mouth again. “He’s also my cousin.”

What in the actual fuck is going on right now?

I lay the shotgun along the kitchen island and fix my best friend with an irritable glower. “Explain.”

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