God of Wrath (Legacy of Gods #3) by Rina Kent

My day starts by waking up early in the penthouse of a building owned by my father, then I fix some breakfast for Ilya and me and we drive to Cecily’s house.

Usually, she has breakfast with her parents, her grandfathers, her uncle, and Ava. Sometimes, her mother’s friends join them. Other times, her father’s friends do. Upon meeting them a few times, I can absolutely see where the kids get their personalities from. Especially Remington. He’s a younger version of his father, Ronan, Xander’s closest and most chill friend.

Then I follow from afar as she goes to whatever organizations she volunteers at. Once, she pushed Ilya and me to give out food and shit because they were short on staff. Or more like, she pushed Ilya and told him to tell me to help instead of being a stalker with no purpose.

That’s what she does. She tells Ilya to tell me things when I’m right there, but she doesn’t speak to me.

I still follow her around anyway and make sure she gets home safe before I leave with the promise of seeing her again the next morning.

Some days, she stays home all day, reading, watching shit, and being Ava’s subject of torment. On other days, Ava convinces her to go out, and that usually ends up with them at the cinema, shopping, and fooling around. In classic Ava style, a documentary of each of their days is posted all over social media. One more thing to appreciate about the social butterfly.

Ilya and I try to remain as out of sight as possible so as not to disturb Cecily, but she sometimes looks at our hideout as if she always knows exactly where we are.

I guess being the subject of my ‘stalking’ for months has given her a pointer or two.

The other day, she was a bit drunk, stumbled to where I hid behind a corner, and said in a slur, “Why can’t you leave?”

“I just can’t,” I replied and held her so she wouldn’t fall.

She looked up at me with her big eyes, so lively and enchanting and fucking mine, pursed her lips, then murmured, “What if I don’t love you anymore?”

“Then I’ll make you love me again.”

“Prick,” she whispered, then fell asleep against my chest.

I stayed like that for far too long, enjoying the feeling of her body against mine until she started shivering from a cold breeze.

That’s when I drove her home and got a whole questionnaire from Xander about if I’d done something to his daughter.

I fucking wish, future father-in-law.

He’d be happy to know that drunken hug was the only time I’ve touched her so intimately in fucking months.

My hand and cock have a vendetta against her and will carry it out in full the moment I have her again.

But I have to put that on hold.

For now.

I watch her from my hideout behind the tree opposite the window of Glyndon’s house. I’ve come to know all their houses and their security, which are okay, I guess. They could use some improvement, but then again, they don’t share the lifestyle I have back at home.

Today is apparently Glyndon’s birthday and everyone is there—Killian included. He’s about to be punched by Landon and will eventually punch him back, and I’m here for the show.

Now, if only Kill will get rid of him for good, I’ll die a happy man.

As if knowing I’m outside, Landon leans in to tell Cecily something that she smiles at.

I tighten my grip on the bike’s handles, but I force myself to remain calm.

There’s nothing between them. He’s just getting on my last fucking nerve because of everything I did to ruin his fun right before school ended.

I slashed his tires, too, the other day, just to be a dick. Looks like I’ll have to bust the windows of his car next. While he’s inside it.

Can’t stand the fucking asshole.

I engrave every detail of Cecily to memory. The laughter, the beautiful flowery summer dresses she doesn’t shy away from wearing lately.

She doesn’t go into that paralyzed state either.

My Cecily has learned to move past her trauma and grow into this…ethereal being that I want to hide from the world.

But I can’t. And I won’t.

I just want to have her because I simply can’t imagine life without her.

After one last look at her, I slam down the shield of my helmet and rev my bike before I speed down the road.

Half an hour later, I’m at the airport. One of my father’s guards nods at me, and I nod back. I stare behind me in search of Ilya since he’s supposed to bring the car and follow after.

A few minutes later, the car stops by the plane’s stairwell.

The passenger door flies open, and Cecily nearly throws herself outside. She runs to me, panting, her breath caught, and her face so pale, I can see the veins.

She grabs my hand in hers, tears gathering in her big green eyes. And while I’m over the moon that she’s touching me, I don’t like the tears.

“Why haven’t you told me?” Her voice is brittle and so fucking sad, it cuts me open.

“Told you what?”

“That you’re sick. You’re dying?” She all but bursts out crying, her tiny frame shaking, her choked breathing filling the air.

Ilya steps out of the car next, looking absolutely calm.

“I’m dying?” I mouth.

“I had to do something. It’s boring to watch whatever foreplay this is.” Then he takes the stairs and gets on the plane.