Page 14 of King

Memories of her brother came rushing in...his laugh, the way he ruffled her hair when they were younger, the fierce protectiveness he always carried despite his flaws. She had held on to hope for so long, believing they’d have more time and that things could be different. But that hope had been crushed, leaving only jagged edges behind.

Tears slipped through her fingers as her body shook with the force of emotions she couldn’t hold back anymore. Joey’s fragile condition, the blood they shared, the darkness chasing them. It was all a twisted nightmare she couldn’t wake from. And yet, she had to keep going. She had to be strong for Joey, even if it meant breaking apart in private, so she could rebuild herself for the battles still to come.

The door creaked open behind her. She stiffened, quickly wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to pull herself together. A familiar voice, quiet but steady, broke the silence.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Amara.” It was King. He had followed her, his presence filling the room.

She swallowed hard, her voice hoarse when she finally spoke. “I don’t have a choice.” Her eyes remained fixed on the floor. “There’s no one else.”

King stepped closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate. “There is now.”

“You don’t know me.” Amara looked up at him through watery eyes, her voice soft but edged with weariness.

“I know Joey,” King replied firmly, tilting his head slightly as he crouched to be at eye level with her. His golden eyes held a steady, unwavering promise. “And I’m loyal to my friends. If he’s in trouble, I will do everything possible to protect him and anyone he cares about.”

Something about the weight of his words, the calm certainty behind them, broke through her defenses. She felt her heart soften even as her tears continued to fall. “Thank you,” she whispered, not entirely sure why she trusted him but knowing deep down that she did.

Her chin trembled as she struggled to keep her composure, but the weight of everything crashed into her again. “Lee wasn’t perfect,” she said after a long, heavy silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “But he loved his son. He tried...” Her words trailed off, swallowed by grief too deep for words.

King nodded slowly, understanding without judgment. He reached over to the small table beside them, grabbed a tissue from the box, and handed it to her. “Joey loved his father very much,” he said gently.

Amara closed her eyes, inhaling deeply to steady herself. When she opened them again, there was fire behind her tears. “I won’t let what happened to Lee happen to Joey.” Her voice was raw, but her resolve was steel.

King’s expression hardened with approval at her determination. “Then talk to us. Tell us everything you know so we understand what we’re up against.”

She hesitated, fear flickering in her eyes, but she swallowed it and gave a slight nod. “I’m ready.”

She started to rise, but King gently placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “No. Stay here. Take a few more minutes to gather yourself.”

Her gaze searched his face, surprised by his kindness. He wasn’t rushing her, wasn’t demanding, just giving her space to breathe. She nodded again, more firmly this time.

King stood, towering over her with quiet strength. “I’ll bring them to you.”

Amara watched him as he walked away, her heart still heavy but her spirit a little lighter. She wasn’t alone anymore, at least notin this. Hope flickered for the first time in what felt like forever, fragile but alive.

CHAPTER 8

As King stepped out of the waiting area, leaving Amara behind, his entire demeanor shifted. His features darkened, and a fierce energy radiated from him, his body strung as tight as a bowstring. Every muscle coiled with barely restrained fury. The beast inside him wanted blood...wanted to destroy whoever had hurt Joey. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles cracking from the pressure. Someone was going to pay, and King would make damn sure they suffered for every ounce of pain Joey had endured.

His thoughts churned with Slade’s grim words about Joey’s leg. A crushed leg. King clenched his jaw so tightly it ached. He knew enough about dance to understand what that kind of injury could mean. Joey’s dreams, his whole future, teetered on the edge of ruin. A brutal fury ignited in King’s chest, so consuming it felt like fire coursing through his veins. The image of Joey lying broken and pale haunted him. He could still remember the light in the kid’s eyes when he talked about dancing—the passion, the joy, and the unshakable drive that had made Joey come alive.

And now?

Now, Joey was fighting for his life. Even if he survived this nightmare, his dreams might not. King’s body trembled with rage at the thought, his mind spiraling further into a dark place.

His boots thudded heavily against the floor as he strode toward Joey's room. Each step was a promise. He would find who did this. He would hunt them down. And when he did, there would be no mercy.

King pushed open the door, his sharp gaze sweeping the room before settling on Sloan, who stood with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression. “She’s ready to talk,” King announced. His voice was calm but carried a weight that made the others pause. Before anyone could move, he added firmly, “She just found out her brother’s dead, so tread lightly.”

Sloan’s eyebrow lifted. “Or what?” he asked, his tone as smooth as a blade drawn from its sheath.

King didn’t flinch. His eyes locked onto Sloan’s; his words deliberate. “You deal with me.” His voice dropped. “Her brother’s dead, her nephew’s fighting for his life, and even you aren’t that much of a dick.”

Sloan’s lips quirked into a smirk, and after a brief pause, he chuckled. “Good thing I like you, King.”

Behind them, Jared let out a snort. “What the fuck? If I’d said that, I’d be scraping my ass off the floor.”

“That’s because I don’t like you most of the time,” Sloan retorted without missing a beat.

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