Page 39 of King of Ruin

“For what?”

“The girl,” I say for Trigger. “I still believe Ezekiel is on our side.”

“He’s Phineas’ son, babe.” Trick’s brows curve upward. He doesn’t want to tell me I’m out of my mind for believing that, but he doesn’t have the keen sense I do. He didn’t see what I saw. Not to mention, Ezekiel let his sister walk right into the lion’s den. He wouldn’t have done that if he thought we’d hurt her.

I need to read the letter to be sure, even if only to validate my suspicion.

“He could be a child of circumstance. Perhaps he hates Phineas as much as anyone with a brain.” I pat a hand on his shoulder before standing on my tippy-toes to press a kiss on his temple.

He leans down, meeting me halfway. I see the doubt glimmering in his eyes, but he trusts me. “Okay. I’ll wait till Maddy gets home and we’ll talk and work out a plan.”

Trigger nods. “I think we should move soon though. If we don’t hear from Ezekiel’s sister in a few days, we go. She could be telling the truth, but she could also be stalling us.”

We all agree and I excuse myself as we wait for Maddy. My feet tremble as I try to take the steps gracefully, an attempt not to display the distress working through my core. When I reach my bedroom, I slip the letter from its hiding place and turn it over, running my thumb over where he wrote her name.

My fingers trace over the edge of the envelope, the foreign war raging in my mind if I should peer into a letter not meant for me and into the working of what was blooming between them.

It was clear Onyx and Ezekiel were creating something with each other. Bridging a connection between two very broken souls. They weren’t set out to heal one another, or to fill the other with purpose. It was deeper.

They were the other’s light. A beacon on the shore so that no matter what they faced out at sea, they would always find the way home. And in each other, they were finding peace.

I saw it every time they were in the same room together. It was in the way Onyx’s shoulders relaxed and her lips curled more often. In the subtle ways Ezekiel lost the edge from the pain he wears so palpably on his skin. Pain so blatant, it was suffocating.

It’s a necessity in the world in which we live, being made men and women. Having an anchor to hold us steady even when we’ll be lost to the waves. A buoy to latch onto when we’re sure we’ll drown.

That’s what they were finding in each other even if they didn’t recognize it quite yet. And I’m never wrong–about anything–and I feel it in the depths of my core that this letter proves it.

I rip the delicate envelope open and take out the two pieces of paper. With one last look over my shoulder, I read.

Is it too cliche for me to start this letter with “if you’re reading this, I’m dead”? I assume so, but in reality it’s true, and if I’m being completely honest with myself, I’m writing this knowing it will be read after my death. It’s been a known factor since I was given this job, and solidified the moment my mouth touched yours.

I didn’t expect to care. I didn’t expect to find myself feeling more at home here than I have anywhere else my entire life. And I sure as hell didn’t expect you.

Somehow, Onyx, you have engrained yourself in me these past couple months. You made me reconsider things I deemed as fact. A deep hatred I can never even begin to encompass has been injected into me since I was old enough to formulate a thought. I had these preconceived notions of what the mafia is and does, especially to members, children included. But you, Onyx, you changed things.

My thinking, my reservations, my assumptions, my doubts. You exposed me to a piece of advice I’d long forgotten.

See, there was a man I met years ago, when I was barely hanging on and everything was getting to be more than I could mentally handle. I’ll never forget the way he looked at my sister as she let her stolen Petco fish out to sea. It was a look I’d never seen before. One of compassion, and empathy. Something I didn’t think a made man had the ability to even do.

He’d said, “When the weight of the world calls for your humanity, it’s the ones we love that keep it bound to us.”

I was a kid then, barely a teen. But I had already lived through five lifetimes and my time to leave this earth felt long overdue. So, if I’m being transparent, hearing him say it in that particular time in my life really pissed me off. It was yet another person drilling into me that I needed to suck it up and continue to suffer no matter how great, for the people around me.

I didn’t understand the gravity of what he said. Not until you.

I can sit here and explain to you how I never wanted this life, and how I only did this because my family's lives were at stake, but I don’t think any apology or explanation would be enough. They wouldn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what I owe you. So instead, this letter is meant for you to know that, without a shadow of a doubt, what we had was real.

Those feelings of fear, anxiousness, worry, and trepidation, I felt them too. They are what I imagine the beginning of something unforgettable feels like. The emotions one goes through before they fall deep into the abyss of another person without a care in the world of how they’ll get out because they never want to.

What was between us was what those standing on the edge feel right before they let go and give in.

I hope you get to feel this again one day. And I hope you allow yourself to fall.

Perhaps in the next life.

-Kane.

I read it one more time before folding it up and sliding it back inside. Three days, Ezekiel. I hope that’s enough. Because if we reach her before then, no amount of my objections will stop my family from killing you.

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