God of Pain (Legacy of Gods #2) by Rina Kent

A tear rolls down my wife’s cheek and I want to massacre that fucking tear to pieces. I want to stab the pain that’s haunting her and choke it to fucking death.

“But what if he doesn’t? What if he…went back to asking questions about who he is and where he came from and why he had to crawl out as a little boy? What if he stopped asking those questions out loud and started to answer them privately? Maybe…maybe that’s why he got shot.”

Her heartbeat quickens against mine, and I want to shake the fuck out of her for it. The doctor said that it’s recommended to not expose her to extremely stressful or emotional situations.

Which is why she works less now and spends most of her time talking to our kids and having girl time with her friends—that I absolutely loathe, by the way, because that means less time for me.

Or more like she talks with one demon spawn—Eli. It’s a known fact that Creighton would rather sleep than indulge in small talk. We’ve always respected his nature and his constant need for space.

But what we’ve been afraid of all along seems to have become a reality. It’s been some time since I suspected that his need for space is actually him withdrawing into himself to plot self-annihilation.

Still, I force myself to keep calm and stroke her waist in a soothing rhythm. “Breathe, Elsa, and while you’re at it, purge those cancerous thoughts from your head.”

“But—”

“Now.”

She goes still at my harsh command, then she glares at me. Good. Glaring means she’s distracted and won’t allow that poison to consume her. Little by little, her pulse returns to normal and she releases a long breath.

“You and your orders are too much,” she mutters under her breath.

“You letting dark thoughts consume you is the actual definition of too much.” I soften my voice. “Go rest, even for a few hours, then come back.”

“I don’t want to leave him. What if something happens when I’m not here?”

“I’ll be here. So will all the kids that alternate visitation time.”

“Still…”

“Elsa. Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder and personally drag your tight little arse to the hotel. You know I’m fully capable of that.”

She lets out a resigned breath. Though it doesn’t really matter whether we do it the nice way or the rough way. My wife knows full well that I would act on my every promise.

“I’ll take you back, Mum.” Eli appears from around the corner like a shadow, probably having eavesdropped on the whole conversation.

He has that loathsome habit that I tried to get him to drop when he was a kid, then soon gave up when he escalated. Eli understood early on that information is power, so he made it his mission to get his hands on any valuable tidbits.

That includes his own parents.

He wraps his hand around Elsa’s shoulder and gives me one of his fake smiles.

I don’t release her.

He doesn’t release her.

Elsa sighs. “You guys know that I can actually go back on my own, right?”

“Nonsense,” I say.

“No way,” Eli says at the same time. “I’m sure Dad will keep an eye on Creigh just fine as I’ll make sure you’re all comfy, Mum.”

“Aw, baby. What would I do without you?” She smiles at him, and although she still looks exhausted, some of that light returns.

“Live a boring life with Dad, probably. Sounds tedious even thinking about it.”

“I will kill you,” I mouth so his mother doesn’t see.

“Mum.” He puts on his acting cap, which he most definitely learned from that fucker Ronan.

Note to self: make him pay next time I see him and promptly think of a way to escape my wife’s wrath.

“What is it, hon?”

“Dad just threatened to kill me.”

“Aiden!” She furrows her brow and Eli grins in the background like a little devil. When Elsa focuses on him again, he switches back to the hurt expression. “You know how your father likes to threaten for sport. He doesn’t mean it.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Mum. Now, let’s go. I’ll escort you safely to the hotel. No one can protect you better than I can.”

“Like the way you protected your younger brother?”

Elsa pales and Eli freezes. His face gradually loses all humor and his posture stiffens.

“Aiden,” my wife whispers. “How can you say that?”

“Isn’t it the truth?” I don’t break eye contact with my son, the one who resembles me so much that it feels as if I’m staring at a younger version of myself. “You had one mission. To keep an eye on your brother and not let him spiral down any destructive paths and to inform me or your grandfather if anything were to go awry, but you’ve failed that with flying colors.”

“I had it under control.” His voice hardens, all attempts to rile me up gone now that he’s the one under attack.

I point at Creighton through the window. “Does that look under control to you? He’s fucking dying.”

“He is not dead.” Eli’s jaw clenches. “I left for a minute, to fix another situation, and when I came back—”

“All I hear are excuses.” I tower over him. “Admit that the situation got out of your control.”