Page 36 of Christmas Mafia Prince
“No!” Father yells, and a few other men gasp in horror when Aspen shakes our great aunt’s ashes over Titus’s head to put out the fire.
A sudden silence fills the room. Killian’s ragged breaths are the loudest, and they catch my attention, but it’s hard to look away from the clusterfuck that is Titus on his knees in front of the fireplace, covered in Aunt Lydia’s ashes.
Aspen looks around. “What? It’s just dust.”
Father’s face turns even redder than when he saw me with Killian last night. “Those are human remains!”
Aspen hums and puts the empty vase down. “So… do I, like, pick it up? We could probably scrape most of it off…”
Father rubs his face. “Leave it. And you,” he turns to me with a glare that tells me he’s going to blame me for everything, just like he always does. “Have you not caused enough chaos already? Accept that the trap in the maze was a freak accident. Unless you have proof that Titus caused it. And you, Titus, do not cause havoc with your brother’s spouse. I don’t care if you like it or not, and for the record, I don’t, but he is family, just like Victor or Bree.”
I didnotexpect that.
I do have Father’s support, despite bringing over a person he did not expect and claiming to have married in secret, without his approval. That doesn’t minimize my idiot brother’s actions, but while I don’t believe that, it’s true that this could have been a freak accident. And if it was not, maybe Titus has learned his lesson.
He coughs up some of Great Aunt Lydia and attempts to wipe her off his face, and I’m treated to the uneven hairline resulting from my attack.
Serves him right.
“Well, there can be no freak accidents whenyour grandchildrenare about to play in that maze,” I add, regretful that my sister’s husband isn’t here to overhear it and turn the next hour of her life into a nightmare with his complaints.
Instead of my father, Colin speaks up. “Um, sir? Please excuse me interrupting, but it seems to me that Killian is having a panic attack. Would you like me to attend to him, or…?”
I dash toward him and take my trembling boy out of his arms. “No. No, I’ll take care of him,” I say, and my heart melts when Killian’s arms slide around my neck. His breath is ragged, choppy, and he wheezes as I carry him out of the room and straight into a hallway used by staff.
Chapter 13
Damen
Ipushthroughthekitchen door shoulder-first and take a lungful of air while my scared bird shakes in my arms, his mind likely still back in the hole, about to die.
“Everybody out,” I shout, glaring at the chef and his assistants. The main man scowls, ready to protest the violent takeover of his kitchen, but one of the sous chefs squeezes his arm. Moments later they’re all gone, and I’m surrounded by stainlesssteel counters with piles of diced meat and vegetables. There’s space available in the corner dedicated to desserts, so that’s where I carry Killian, seating him between a display fridge full of Christmas-themed cupcakes and a rack with various baking utensils.
“Breathe, baby,” I whisper, cupping his face as I bring our foreheads together.
He latches on to my gaze like it’s a lifeline. “You… you think it’s y-y-your b-b-brother?” he chokes out eventually, but keeps wheezing. My hate for Titus is hotter than the sun, but Killian’s wellbeing is more important than my feelings, so I kiss his cheek and sigh.
“He’s never getting near you again.”
It takes a while longer for Killian to catch his breath and I put my hand on his chest to make sure his heart isn’t rattling anymore.
“Damen… those were real saws. Actual saws. They would have slowly shredded me to pieces.” Two massive tears stream down his cheeks as he looks at me, bewildered.
I can’t believe Titus dared to raise his hand on someone so fragile. Someone who smells of flowers. Someone who’s mine in almost all ways.
One way or another, I’m going to get back at him for this. For now, I focus on my Killian and wipe the dampness from his cheeks. “I know, baby. From now on, I won’t leave your side. Sooner or later, he will have to give up on this.”
He’s trembling, as if afraid to speak what’s on his mind, so I stroke his hair in encouragement. “I don’t think I can do this, Damen.”
I freeze, my hands on his thighs as he looks down with shame painted all over his face.
Fuck.
Titus did this.
I’m going to have his balls.
“I don’t understand,” I say flatly, even though I absolutely do. He’s backtracking, and were we not so far away from civilization, he’d be already working on a way to run from me.
