Page 33 of Knot All is Crystal
But it feels like she won’t notice unless I am. Like I have to stand in her face and scream, “Crystal, I’m trying to keep you out of trouble!” for her to realize that I’m always watching her back.
Unfortunately, in an organization like the Conglomerate, you have to keep your head down. She already has enough attention on her. It would be pointless if she knew what I was doing to keep her safe, all the eyes I redirect from her.
Safety is in the silence, in the unknown.
“How are you holding up?” I ask quietly, even though there is no one here with us. “After everything with your-”
“Don’t say it,” she snaps, her head whipping toward me. “Don’t.”
“So, good then, clearly.”
She slams her feet on the ground as she spins to face me. “You don’t get to be sarcastic when you brought me into this life.”
I throw my head back, groaning. “Must we have this conversation every fucking day, Queenie? Why can’t we have a normal conversation like coworkers?”
“Oh, you want to tell me your favorite snack food? Your favorite color? The reason why you keep your head shaved?” She rolls her eyes sarcastically. “You wanna tell me about your hopes and dreams?”
I take a sip from the bottle of water dangling in my hands. “Kettle chips, purple, and because it’s how my father wore his hair. I always wanted people to tell me I looked like my father.” I crumble the empty bottle in my hands. “And my hopes and dreams are to make my sister proud.”
Some of the venom drains from her eyes. “You have a sister?”
“Had.” Why did I bring her up? This conversation is dangerous. “She died a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”
“I know.”
We sit in silence that isn’t awkward but hasn’t quite made it to comfortable yet for a few moments before Crystal speaks again. “Why purple?”
Because when you colored your hair purple and I saw the smile on your face, I thought maybe you’d come out of this shitshow okay.
Because you wear purple socks when you’re sad.
Because it makes your eyes glow whenever you wear it.
Because when I catch that glimpse of purple in one of the prisms reflected off the chandelier, it feels like I’m seeing you.
Because it’s the color of royalty, and you truly do deserve to be treated like a Queen.
“My favorite flower is the violet.”
She smiles and crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t know many men with a favorite flower, much less a big tough enforcer like you.”
“I’m more than just the hired muscle, Queenie.” My voice breaks a little, emotion clogging my throat. I hate that this is all I am, all I’m known for. She doesn’t know any other part of me.
And whose fault is that?
The nature of our jobs doesn’t mean I can’t let her get to know me. Sure, she can’t know all of me, but would it be so bad to share small parts of myself with the pretty Omega I’m tasked with looking out for?
What would it be like if we walked side by side, telling jokes and trading smiles instead of me grabbing her arm and dragging her behind me?
“Did I ever tell you I wanted to be an artist?” I say out of nowhere.
“An artist? You?” She’s skeptical, and rightfully so. It’s not like much artistic talent is involved in painting these walls with the blood of those who’ve wronged Kieran.
“Surprising, I know. I wanted to be a sculptor. I liked the idea of taking something that others would think is worthless, and turning it into something beautiful.” It’s been a long time since I sat down and created for the sake of it, but I still feel the desire simmering under my skin.
“What’s your medium? We took several art courses at the Academy, so I played with clay a few times.”
