Page 83 of King of Cruelty

“The only thing that makes you my father’s daughter, Lyla, is taking your anger, pain, and insecurity out on Kenzie. That was very Eddie Blaine of you.”

She flinched again, jerking back like I slapped her.

“But you don’t have to be like him anymore. Eddie Blaine was such an evil, abusive jackass, he destroyed any chance at having a real, loving family that would’vewillinglystuck by his side.

“What about you? Because this is the moment where you choose. Do you want two sisters who will put the past aside, and support and stick by you through the good and the bad? Do youwant the cutest, cuddliest niece ever born using you as her pillow all the time?

“Or do you want to keep seeking love and validation from someone who wasn’t capable of it when he was alive, and can’t give it now that he’s dead?

“Your choice.”

Lyla was quiet for so long, I almost thought she fell asleep with her eyes open. She was so still.

“Kenzie won’t,” she whispered so softly, I had to lean in. “She won’t forget the past. She won’t... forgive me.”

“Yes, she will. I know because”—I took out my phone—“of this.”

I passed her my cell with the text Kenzie sent me displayed loud and proud on the screen.

Kenzie: Everyone keeps asking me why Lyla hates me so much when we don’t have history, but River just made me think maybe it’s not about our history. Maybe it’s about something way more twisted and illogical: family.

Do you think it’s possible that our dad had another daughter, and that daughter is Lyla? If it is, we have to find out for sure. I can’t imagine how lost and alone she’s felt all these years. We’ve got to let her know that everything is going to be okay and that

“Us Blaine sisters stick together,” Lyla read—the final words of Kenzie’s text a thin, raspy croak.

Lyla took one look at me, and burst into tears.

I let her cry, knowing she was getting all the comfort she needed from the family peacemaker. Laurel chewing on her expensive, designer shirt and covering it with drool was the first step to letting the healing begin.

After a long while, she straightened and grabbed for the tissues on her coffee table. She had to toss aside her strewn bra to get to them.

“Okay,” she said, clearing her throat. “Let’s say I’m interested in... things being different between us. What would that even look like?”

“It looks like brunch, Christmas vacations, shopping for fabric with Kenzie, going hiking with me, movie nights on the weekends, and getting to watch Laurel grow up. But that’s later,” I said, getting to my feet. “For today, it looks like you babysitting Laurel for a few hours while I get my sister and everyone I love out of the Fairfield.” I glanced out the window, clocking that rising tower easily in the distance. “I feel in my bones that she’s in danger, and I can’t sit by and do nothing.”

“Wait— Me? Babysit? I can’t do that,” she cried. “I told you, I don’t know anything about babies, and I just met this kid. I—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Open up!” blared through the door. “I know you’re in there!”

We bolted off the couch.

“Quick!” I snatched her hand and tore for the bathroom. “Get inside the bathroom! We—”

The door flew off the hinges, banging into the opposite wall and rattling the whole apartment.

Selfie Bitch flew in—the neon-red bump on her forehead as stark and glaring as the murder in her eyes.

“Good little hiding spot.” Her gun flew up. “But not good enough.”

Chapter Nine

Kenzie

“I only said that for the benefit of your boyfriends.” She stepped into my path, blocking my escape. “By the time they realize you’re not joining them, they’ll already be gagged and bound to the coffee table. A lot less shouting and fighting back that way.”

“You don’t have to—”

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