Page 108 of Feed Your Fiends

His eyes grow wide again.

“You and Elle talked about a lot, but not about your second accident that night?”

“Gant—”

“The accident where you killed my mother? I guess you were too busy playing in her pussy and paying her off to remember that part.”

Why had they only discussed Elle’s accident?But then it hits me. After he choked her, she must’ve been terrified, too terrified to let him know what she did.

“Gant, listen to me carefully. I hadnothingto do with your mother’s accident.”

“That’s what you say. But we both know how much of a filthy liar you are. I wanted to hear you yap, you know? I wanted to see how much rope you’d hang yourself on.” I lift him by the throat pointedly, and he scrambles and fails to get his knees in an attempt to relieve the pressure because I’ve propped my foot on his back. “About that much,” I say, bouncing him like a yo-yo. “Elle would never let you touch her pussy. She’s too in love with me. So in love, she’ll pretend to be sleeping just so I can do whatever the fuck I want because she’s too obsessed to tell me no. Even though she’s pissed at me, she finds little ways to have me while trying to remain true to her boundaries that I can tear down with a simple blow on her clit.”

“Gant, don’t do this. We’re family. You’re an idiot if you think you're special to her.”

“Maybe,” I say, pulling so that he has no choice but to flip onto his back. Until he has no choice but to burst another blood vessel as those irises take on the darkness as he eases into unconsciousness again. But only for a second. I don’t want him to miss the festivities downstairs. “But I’m not stupid enough to believe that you had nothing to do with my mother’s death.”

I drag him out of the bedroom, his eyes opening and closing at my whim depending on how much air I give him as I tug him down the stairs and into the foyer without incident, just likehepromised.

Sylo nor Delphine comes out of their rooms thanks to those sleepy teas, and I’d ensured Delphine drunk a fuckton of it at teatime.

I release my grip on Silas’s throat halfway to the kitchen so that he can come to fully.

“Since you’re so family-oriented and willing to go to such extreme lengths for me,” I say, as his head bangs against the entryway to the kitchen. “I think it’s finally time you met mine.”

I use my back to push the kitchen door open, and I’m met with the sizzling scent of frying meat.

“It smells delicious in here,” I say to Zedd, who’s happily cutting into the last of the pork belly with his new birthday gift. The thinnest knife set in the world.

“Chicharron, like you asked.”

“Are you almost done?”

Zedd nods, barely sparing Silas, who I’ve dropped at my feet a glance. “Yeah. I’ve made more than enough. It was a lot easier than I thought for my first time.”

“I told you it was easy,” I smile. “There’s a first time for everything.”

“Good. Pack it away. We don’t want any cross-contamination,” Bart says, wiping his mouth and tossing the napkin onto his plate. “Gant, I saved you a plate.”

I tuck into a barstool behind the island and crunch on the thin layer, ignoring Zedd’s erotic gaze as he watches me nibble. He’s so obsessed with food and his little knives that it’s almost like he’ll do anything to use them.

“Silas, Bart Auclair. Bart Auclair, Marisol’s murderer and her first baby’s father,” I say, waving a piece of chicharrón between the two.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Silas,” Bart says, pulling Silas’s collar until he’s on his knees. “And to think you’ve been right under my nose all along, or rather Delphine’s cunt.Sit.”

“Gant—” Silas gasps, pleads.

“We insist,” I say, forcing him into the chair between Bart and me and in front of a manic Zedd. Oil sizzles in the background, smoke wafting between us.

Silas swallows, resigned. “What do you want? I’ll tell you anything.”

“Just the truth will do,” Bart says.

“I told you I don’t know anything about Marisol’s accident.”

It’s so fast that I barely see the fork stabbing through Silas’s hand. I just see blood and move my plate over. His knees buckle, a cry trying to escape his lips as he falls over the island, but it’s like the scream can’t escape his bruised throat.

Bart is gracious enough to let the fit pass.

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