God of Ruin (Legacy of Gods #4) by Rina Kent

“Not if I have information they don’t.” I take a sip of my beer in a failed attempt to hide my grin.

I happen to be quite proud of the fact that Mia told me things she’s never spoken of to her family. Prick Nikolai and pretentious Maya included.

Have you ever thought she told you that because she believes whoever knows will be killed by her kidnapper? part of my brain that’s wishing for a bullet whispers like a stage-five twat.

Besides, I could’ve asked Mia about the rest of the story and she would’ve eventually told me, but I didn’t want her to relive her kidnapping incident when she already gets nightmares about it.

“But…” Glyn trails off and plays with the zipper of her tiny backpack that I’m surprised can fit anything bigger than a mouse.

Speaking of which, I would rather I was in the company of my own little mouse, but, apparently, we’re not supposed to meet often.

When I asked her if she was hiding me from her family, she didn’t reply, and that was enough of an answer. She’s still ashamed of me, possibly refusing to tell her brother and his band of meddling fools that she’s seeing me.

And will be for a very long time.

But that’s okay. Everything will fall back into place. Not because I’m a hopeful romantic—disgusting—but because I’ll make it happen whether she likes it or not.

I’m open to anything, including relearning the entire world fucking history and seeing it in rosy colors instead of human greed, but letting her go is not an option.

Not in this lifetime or the next, or the twenty after.

“You don’t like lying to Killian?” Bran finishes for Glyn, bringing me back to the present moment.

Of course he’d figure out what she was about to say just by looking at her. I figured it out, too, but mainly because I’m nothing if not brilliant at linking patterns.

Glyn is somewhat of an empath, so she’s partially fine with exposing Mia’s secret if it means she’ll participate in helping her. What she’s not fine with, however, is going behind that twat Killian’s back to help me.

And I happen to be her brother, for fuck’s sake.

“He told me what he knows because he trusts me,” she says. “I don’t want to lose his trust.”

“You won’t, because none of us will tell,” I say in a calmer tone than I feel. “Think about it this way, the good outweighs the bad in this situation. Do you think he’ll be mad if what you disclose will help his beloved cousin?”

“Well, I don’t think so.” She releases her bag’s zipper and straightens. “Okay, so Kill has always avoided this subject whenever it comes up, but a few days ago, after the show you put on, something changed.”

Thank fuck.

I don’t say that out loud, though, or my attempts at rehabilitating my image with my siblings would take a sharp dive toward the worst.

I actually like that they don’t wear expressions of dread or disgust whenever I’m in their field of vision. They actually come to hang out in my room without me forcing them to—in Bran’s case it’s more to keep an eye on me.

They’re tangible proof that, yes, I controlled them over the years, but despite my godly logic, that process never produced a great relationship. This softer version, while not my favorite, is able to generate better results.

“In what sense did it change?” Bran asks.

Glyn leans forward in her seat. “So he was livid, understandably, since you apparently called her a mute upon first seeing her.”

“An ancient mistake,” I say.

“Killian doesn’t see it that way. He feels that you’re unable to respect that part of her. So I probed a bit more and he told me what he knows. The story happened when Killian was nine and Mia was about eight years old. Maya and Mia were being driven home when they were attacked in the middle of the road. One bodyguard got killed, but the other managed to protect the girls. However, one of the assailants reached in and took both of them. Mia struggled, kicked, and bit his hand until he released Maya. In the end, she was the only one who got kidnapped. The other bodyguard managed to get Maya home safely. For three days, they didn’t have any news. Her parents expected a ransom call, but they didn’t get one in the beginning.

“Killian said that was the darkest time for their family. Her parents mobilized the entirety of their resources in the Russian mafia to find her. They closed New York and flipped it upside down in search of the assailant, but they came up empty. Just when they were about to go crazy, they got a call. The kidnapper wanted twenty-five million sent to an offshore bank account, and only when they made the transfer would he tell them her location. If they didn’t agree to his demands, he would’ve still told them her location, but she would have been dead. Naturally, they made the transfer, and he sent them a GPS location. They found Mia balled up in a fetal position inside a dark, humid basement. She was starved and had a bloody lip and welts on her body, but she wasn’t crying. The doctor said that while she was hit, thankfully, she wasn’t sexually assaulted. But ever since then, she’s never spoken a word, and the professionals ruled it as mental rather than physical.”

My fingers tighten on the bottle so hard, I’m surprised I don’t crush it to pieces and watch my blood spill on the ground.

Just listening to what happened to her triggers an avalanche of feelings I know so well. It’s similar to when those twats made Bran the joke of the school, but these emotions are a lot stronger in intensity and could only be categorized as black rage.