“What do you mean?” I murmured.
Kane leaned his head back against the sofa cushion. “Damien had this girlfriend called Nala. She was a cute Asian kid and he adored her. That was little brother’s problem—he cared too much about people. He was messed up when our parents died. He understood we couldn’t cross Marco though. We were brought up around an empire that preached loyalty. It was instilled in us from a very young age. We were loyal to the core to one another, to our parents, and even to Marco, even though the three of them didn’t deserve it. What our father did was wrong; he betrayed someone he swore to be loyal to, and to us and that’s not right. You don’t turn your back on your own, but my parents did.”
I listened to Kane as he spoke, and the more I listened, the more scared I became.
“Even though Damien understood our father was a traitor, he wouldn’t let anyone talk smack about him. One of Marco’s nephews, Trent, did just that. He said our father deserved to be shot and buried, and it was no more than he deserved. That set Damien off; they fought, but Trent pulled a gun-”
I cut Kane off on a gasp, but he pressed on.
“Long story short, Damien somehow got the gun and shot Trent. We were told he died, and in order to protect Damien for betraying one of our own, we began to work for Marco. Different work for each of us. He thrust us into different environments—Dominic into fighting, Alec into being an escort, Ryder into dealing, and me... I became a monster.”
I shook my head.
“Slow down. You said you were told this Trent kid died?”
Kane growled, “Yeah, up until few years ago when the little prick resurfaced. We found out Marco betrayed us, so we bounced. We were paying a debt that wasn’t valid in the first place. Damien never killed Trent... not the first time anyway.”
I blinked. “I don’t want to know what that means.”
“Good,” Kane grunted.
I flicked my eyes over his body.
“Okay, so you got a job to hurt people... how did you get your scars?”
Kane swallowed and looked away from me. “Punishment.”
“Punishment?” I repeated.
Kane nodded his head, still looking away.
“When I didn’t do a job... correctly, I was punished. Severely.”
I didn’t like how that sounded, not one bit.
“I’m confused, Kane,” I murmured. “What job? What punishment?”
“Aideen, you have to have an inkling of the people I am involved with. Even before I explained shit, you had to know deep down that I don’t deal with straight people.”
Why wasn’t that phrased in the past tense?
“I... I guess so,” I admitted. “I know Marco was like Keela’s uncle Brandon, a crooked prick... but that is it. Keela doesn’t talk about Marco or anything that went down with him. He had me knocked out before he shot Storm and took Keela, Alec, and Bronagh to Darkness, remember?”
Kane balled his hands into fists. “I found you unconscious on the floor of Keela’s apartment. Of course I fucking remember. It haunts me.”
It did?
I was taken back by his sudden anger. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“Don’t apologise,” Kane sighed. “I’m not angry with you, none of that was your fault. I just get pissed with I remember what happened to you.”
I knew he found me before anyone else last year when Marco trashed Keela’s place and took her, Alec, and Bronagh captive. It was like something out of a film. They knocked me out, hurt Storm, and just took the others. It was surreal to even think it happened let alone realise I was part of it. Kane found me that night, then he left me with Branna while he and the rest of his brothers went to get Brandon so they could rid themselves of Marco for once and for all.
Ridding themselves of Marco hurt my friend though. Marco was no longer on this Earth, not amongst the living anyway, and yet he still had a hold of Keela through her nightmares. I was beyond delighted to hear her mind was fighting back and was slowly, but surely, ridding her of Marco too.
Fucking Marco.
“Can I ask you something that has been on my mind since the day you woke up in the hospital?”
Kane shrugged. “Shoot.”
“What is your problems with needles?”
Kane stilled. “It’s not the needle, it’s the stabbing.”
I swallowed. “What stabbin’?”
He scrubbed his face with his hands. “When I was punished, to keep me from fighting back, my wrists were bound with rope and strung up above my head.” He paused to touch the scars that looked like circular burns around his wrists.
Rope burns.
“When I was bound, the boss would take a needle so thin you could barely see it. It wasn’t long enough to pierce any organs, so he would stab me in the back over and over until I screamed. He said if I was stabbing him in the back by not working, then he would stab me in mine. Literally.”
My stomach twisted.