Page 229 of Boy of Ruin
I run my thumb over the screen of my phone, see the healthy baby boy with a skeleton beanie on, minutes old as Sid Malikov holds him close.
That anger I have toward Lucifer softens a little. Or rather, I don’t care about it. Our hatred. The way we’ll never be close.
The way I think I’d give up just about anything for Sid to love me like she loves him.
My throat tightens, and I take in the boy’s big blue eyes, his red cheeks, his mouth open in a wail.
I see Sid grinning from ear-to-fucking-ear. They’re at home, in their big bed, black sheets, and Lucifer is beside her, his arm around her and his face lit up, the happiest I’ve ever seen that piece of shit.
He’s not even looking at the baby in her arms.
He’s staring at Sid, holding her so close it’s a miracle she can even breathe.
Another message comes in, a close up of the baby’s face. Fucking adorable, and I hate babies.
But it’s the next text that undoes me.
The rain pounds on around us, the waves choppy just a few feet from us, the beach stretched out in either direction, as far as the eye can see. My mom told me her sister lived here. She had a daughter. Eden. My cousin.
I think about that as I read the message.
Family I never had.
Lucifer: Rain Malikov is 6 pounds, 6 ounces. Small, but he’ll grow.
I stare at that message for a long, long time, until Nicolas’s hand comes to my shoulder.
I flinch, and he steps back, bringing Ria with him when my eyes connect with his.
But that means it’s time.
The baby is safe. Sid is safe. Lucifer will keep her that way.
And I told her once I couldn’t live without her.
I meant it.
I force a smile at Nicolas, which he must find odd because he asks, “You okay?” before he takes the phone and Ria snatches it out of his hand, oblivious.
She’s scared for her family, but I told her the 6 are distracted right now. Too many loose ends, the whole fucking blanket unravels, and a few threads get forgotten about.
“Yeah,” I lie to Nicolas, “I’m fucking great.” I force myself not to smile again, because he’s staring at me like I just lost my fucking mind.
Of course, I lost that a long time ago.
“I’m going to the gym,” I tell him.
“It’s fucking pouring—”
I cut him off with a look, and he seems to remember he works for me and not the other way around when he nods, looks down at the phone. I see that slow smile curving on his lips, him and Ria lost in the beauty of a baby.
Rain.
I let myself into the beach house through the sliding glass door, grab my keys and head downstairs, out the back door.
It takes me five minutes to get to the warehouse. I’ve always had an affinity for scoping those out, every city I’m in, it’s one of the first things I look for. The opposite of the crate in so many ways, with the same sort of security walling me in. Some things you never get over, I guess.
The parking lot is empty. I own this place, but I’m the only one who knows about it. I grab the gun from the glove compartment, type in a text to Nicolas but don’t send it just yet.
