Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
"Give me one reason," I say to Colt, "why I shouldn't paint this parking lot with whatever's inside your skull."
The baby makes a small sound—not quite a cry, just a reminder it exists. That it didn't ask to be born into this war.
Destiny Kane used to be all sharp edges—black eyeliner so thick it looked painted on with a Sharpie, red lipstick smeared like a wound, hair dyed whatever color she could steal from the drugstore that week. A walking "fuck you" to the world that made her.
This girl standing in front of me looks like she walked straight off Savannah's Instagram. Her hair is clean and shiny, falling over her shoulders in soft waves. No makeup except something that makes her skin glow. She's wearing a white sundress with tiny flowers on it. Like motherhood washed all the rage out of her and left something fragile behind.
She's thinner though. Hollow in the cheeks where there should be fullness. Her eyes dart between my face and the gun I'm still holding on Colt.
The baby protests again, and Destiny shifts the bundle in her arms. "Do you want to meet your niece?" Her voice is quiet, careful. Not the Destiny I remember at all.
I don't answer. Can't answer. But she takes a step forward anyway, pulling back the yellow blanket.
"Her name's Marigold. Marigold Ashby."
The baby blinks up at me with dark blue eyes. Blonde wisps of hair catch the light. She doesn't look anything like my sister.
She looks like Savannah.
Something twists in my chest, hard and painful. This child isn't a Kane. She's an Ashby through and through. Golden and perfect where we've always been dirt and struggle.
Even me. This gold hair of mine has always been the other side of clean. Never bright like the sun, but tinted with shadows.
My eyes snap back to Colt, and I breathe through my anger. "She's seventeen, you piece of shit.You fucking preyed on my little sister while I was locked up? While she was alone? What kind of goddamn animal—"
"Legion." Destiny's voice cuts through my rage. "I'm eighteen now." I look at her, but my aim stays true on Colt's forehead. "Why do you think I waited until today to come find you?" she continues, bouncing the baby gently when she starts to fuss. "I'm legal now. That part of the drama is over."
Eighteen now…
It takes me a moment to understand what she's really saying.
Eighteen now…
Today is her birthday.
And I forgot.
I've been so wrapped up in Savannah, in the club, in my own shit that I didn't even remember my own sister's birthday.
Hell, I didn't even go look for her. Didn't even ride down to the damn truck stop and look around.
The weight of my failure sits heavy on my shoulders. I was supposed to protect her. Keep her safe. Instead, I went to prison and left her alone, and an Ashby—a fucking Ashby—stepped in to take my place.
I look at the baby again. My niece. Conceived while I was still inside, counting days on a cinder block wall.
I want to hate this child. Want to see her as proof of everything I couldn't prevent.
But she's just a baby. Innocent. Perfect little fingers curling against the blanket. A Kane by blood, no matter what her last name is.
And despite everything, despite the gun in my hand and the rage in my chest, I feel something protective unfurl inside me at the sight of her tiny face.
"Why'd you run, Des?" My voice is quieter now, but I keep the gun steady on Colt. "Why'd you just disappear?"
She glances at Colt before answering. "Cash found out. About the baby. About us." Her hand tightens on the blanket. "He came to the trailer one night when you were inside. Said some things."
"What things?" These words fall out as rage.
"That no Kane was gonna dilute Ashby blood. That he'd make sure I never kept it." Her eyes harden, and there's my sister again, buried beneath the sundress. "Said he'd take care of it personally."
My finger twitches against the trigger. Colt must notice because he raises his hands slightly higher. "I stepped in. Got her out—"
"You got her out?" I am nothing but demons now. "You got her out? You piece of shit! You knocked her up. How fucking old—" I do some quick math. Seventeen minus three years inside equals… rage, that’s what it equals. "Fourteen,” I say. She was fourteen when I went in." I'm growling now. "She was a child and you—"
"Child," Destiny sneers. "Stop it. I haven't been a child since Mama died when I was eight. You left me.” She’s the one growlin’ now. “For them.” She nods her head at the men behind me.
Fuck.
"You did time for them, Legion. Time you didn't even owe. Time they stole, not just from you, but from me."