KEIFER POV
I watched the house in the rearview mirror until the gates closed, ensuring Jay was safely inside with my brothers. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to put the car in park, go upstairs, and spend the rest of my birthday wrapped around my fiancée.
God, her in that dress. I'd spent the entire night pretending not to notice the way that slit rode up her thigh every time she moved, or how the blue fabric hugged every curve of her body. My mind had been in the gutter since the moment she stepped onto that stage, but duty—and her persistent, annoying twin brother—had other plans.
I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white. Jare had helped me tonight, and I was grateful for the backup, but calling me out to a "regular spot" as soon as the gala ended was a total dick move.
I pulled up to the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the docks—our "regular" meeting place. It was cold, damp, and smelled of salt and old grease. Jare was already there, leaning against his car, smoking
"You're five minutes late, Watson," Jare said without looking up. He was leaning against the hood of his car, the tip of a cigarette glowing in the dark. "Having trouble saying goodbye to my sister?"
"Shut up, Jare," I growled, slamming my car door shut. I was exhausted, wired, and still thinking about the way Jay looked in that blue dress. "What do you want to talk about that couldn't wait until morning?"
He took a long drag, the smoke curling around his face. "Do you really love my sister?"
I stopped in my tracks. I expected more talk about the Elders, enemies. Not this.
"What kind of question is that?" I asked, my voice hardening. "You know the answer. I'm ready to die for her. I've nearly done it twice already."
Jare didn't say anything for a long moment. He just stood there, taking slow puffs of his cigarette, staring out at the black water of the docks. The silence was heavy, but it wasn't hostile—it was the silence of a brother finally handing over the keys to his sister's heart.
"Want some?" he asked, offering me the pack.
I shook my head immediately, taking a step back. "Your sister will cancel my kisses for the day if I touch that."
Jare let out a genuine chuckle, his shoulders shaking. "What kind of spell did my sister put on you? And what is this 'kisses deal'?"
"She put a love spell on me, clearly," I grumbled, leaning against my own car. "And she told me that every time I smoke, she'll cancel my kisses for the day. I'm not risking that."
"That troublemaker," Jare said, laughing as he shook his head. "She used to smoke too, you know."
"Yeah, she told me she tried it for the first time with her ex, Cyrus," I said. It had bothered me when she told me, but I'd let it go.
Jare smirked, looking at the cigarette in his hand. "No, she smoked long before that. I'm pretty sure she still smokes now, she just doesn't get caught. She's better at hiding things than I am."
I felt my jaw drop. Jay? My Jay, who lectured me about my health and smelled like vanilla and expensive shampoo, was a secret smoker? "You're lying."
"Don't look so shocked," Jare said, tossing the cigarette butt onto the pavement and crushing it with his shoe. "Unlike me, she doesn't do it every day. It's only once in a while—when she's stressed out, or when she's really, really mad at me. If she's furious, she probably smokes two back-to-back."
I blinked, my brain trying to reconcile the image of the elegant girl at the gala with the image of her hiding on a balcony somewhere with a cigarette.
"She keeps her secrets well, Keifer," Jare said, his voice dropping an octave and losing all its sarcasm. "That's why I'm asking if you really love her. Being with a woman like Jay isn't just about the chaos she creates or the way she meddles in everyone's lives. It's about the shadows she carries within her. She has a lot of them."
"I don't care about her shadows," I countered firmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I'm not looking for a perfect girl. I'll sit in the dark with her for as long as it takes. Smoking or not."
Jare studied me for a long time, searching for any sign of hesitation. Finally, he gave a slow, solemn nod.
"Anyways... I didn't call you here to talk about cigarettes," Jare said, his expression turning grim. "I'm here to tell you about her trauma."
My heart skipped a beat, and a cold chill settled in my chest. "You know about it?" I asked. I knew Jay had ghosts, but the way Jare said it made it sound like a wound that had never truly healed.
"Keifer, I'm telling you this because I'm choosing to trust you with her life," Jare said, stepping closer until we were eye-to-eye. "Don't make me regret this. If you ever use what I'm about to tell you against her, I'll make sure you're buried before sunrise."
I nodded
"It happened when she was sixteen," Jare started, his eyes turning a dangerous, bloodshot red in the dim light. "Jeana... she sold Jay-Jay to five men."
I felt the blood drain from my face. My lungs burned, but I couldn't seem to draw in enough air. "She what?" I choked out, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears. The rage that sparked in my gut was unlike anything I'd ever felt—it was a white-hot, suffocating fury that made my vision blur.
Jeana. Her own mother. The woman who was supposed to be her sanctuary had used her as a bargaining chip.
"It was pure luck," Jare continued, his voice trembling with leftover terror and a deep, jagged hatred. "Percy and I were visiting her that day. We had just landed in the Philippines to surprise her. When we got to the house, we saw Jeana leaving the building... and then we heard the screams."
He swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the pavement. "When we burst inside, it wasn't what we expected. There were four men, and they looked... terrified of her. One of them was already on the ground, bleeding. Jay was standing there, but she looked like a ghost."
Jare stopped, his breath hitching. "I don't really know everything that happened in those minutes before we arrived, but they tried to..." He choked on the words, stopping himself. "They tried to rape her. But thank God, nothing happened. She fought back. She fought like a demon until we got there."
The image burned into my brain—sixteen-year-old Jay, cornered and alone, having to turn into a monster just to survive. My hands were shaking. I wanted to destroy the world for making her pick up a weapon at that age.
"She was terrified, Keifer," Jare whispered, and I could see the ghost of that day in his eyes. "She was covered in blood that wasn't hers, shaking so hard she couldn't even drop the glass shard she was holding. She didn't even realize she was holding it. She just kept screaming, 'Don't touch me, please!'... You have no idea how it felt for us, seeing her like that."
My jaw was clamped so tight it ached. A glass shard. She had defended herself with a piece of broken glass. "What happened to those monsters?" I asked, my voice barely more than a lethal growl.
Jare's expression shifted, a dark, twisted smirk appearing on his face. "We took care of them. We showed them exactly what happens when someone touches our sister. They didn't have quick deaths, Keifer. I made sure of that."
"Does Jay know? Does she remember what you did?" I asked.
"No, she doesn't," Jare said, his voice turning clinical. "After we got her to the hospital, the doctors explained that her mind practically fractured to protect itself. Her brain auto-deleted the memory of the actual assault to keep her sane. She remembers being in the house, she remembers the fear, but the details... they're gone."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a warning whisper. "I'm warning you now, Keifer. My sister should never know the full truth of that day. I'm telling you this because for the past few weeks, Jare mentioned she's been having flashes. Nightmares that feel like reality. If she starts questioning things, if she starts to remember... you tell her it's just a dream. You tell her she's imagining it. You do whatever you have to do to keep those memories buried."
I nodded slowly. It went against my instinct to lie to her, but if her own mind had built a wall to save her, I wasn't going to be the one to tear it down and let the rot back in.
"What else should I know about her?" I asked, needing to be prepared for every trigger, every shadow.
"Angelo and Aries don't know about this," Jare added, checking his surroundings. "Not that I don't trust them, but it's safer this way. Angelo is too much of a Boy Scout; he'd start saying shit like 'she deserves to know' or 'it's her right to heal.' He doesn't understand that some things are better left dead. You and I? We know how to keep secrets."
I looked at Jare—really looked at him. For the first time, I didn't see a rival or an annoying brother-in-law. I saw a man who had been a silent guardian for years, carrying a burden that would have crushed most men.
"I'll keep the secret, Jare," I promised. "And I'll keep her safe. From the world, and from her own head."
Jare finally let out a long breath, looking like some of the tension had finally left his frame. "Good. Because if she finds out because of you, Keifer, there won't be enough of you left for a funeral."
"One more thing," Jare said, pausing with his hand on the car door. He looked back at me, a brief flash of that annoying older-brother smirk returning to his face, though his eyes remained serious.
"When you catch her smoking—and you will, eventually—don't throw a fit."
I raised an eyebrow. "I told you, she's the one who made the rule about the kisses. I'm just following her lead."
Jare let out a dry, humorless laugh. "I'm serious, Keifer. If she's smoking, it means her head is getting loud.So don't take them away—just buy her a better brand."
I actually laughed, shaking my head at the absurdity of it. "Normally, when a brother finds out his sister is smoking, he tries to take the pack away. But you're telling me to act like her supplier?"
"That's what I do. I give her a better brand—one where she isn't really inhaling the worst of it. It's less dangerous," Jare said, his hand on the door handle. "Or better yet, share that cigarette with her. And make sure to give her some milk chocolate afterward. It's good for the aftertaste."
I stared at him, bewildered. "Where did you even get that from?"
"Jay-Jay," Jare said simply. He slammed the door shut, the engine roared, and he drove away into the London fog.
I stood there for a long time, the silence of the docks echoing the weight of what I now carried. The trauma, the glass shard, the 'deleted' memories. I felt a fierce, burning resolve settle in my gut. I will make sure she doesn't remember any of it. I'll be the wall that keeps those shadows away from her forever.
I drove back to the house, my mind racing with everything Jare had shared. When I got inside, I checked on Keiran and Keigan first. They were both passed out, finally quiet for once.
Then, I went to check on Jay-Jay. I headed straight for my room first—sorry, our room—because I had a hunch she wouldn't stay in the guest wing.
I pushed the door open, and my breath caught.
She was sprawled across the bed, fast asleep. But she wasn't in my hoodie anymore. She was wearing a silk nightdress that was... definitely not something she'd worn around the house before. It was delicate, lace-trimmed, and left very little to the imagination.
Dear God, where did she even get that from? I wondered, my pulse jumping.
I discarded my suit quickly, changing into nothing but my boxers. I moved carefully, not wanting to startle her after what Jare told me about her triggers. I slid into the bed beside her, the cool sheets warmed by her presence.
The moment the mattress shifted, she murmured something in her sleep and instinctively gravitated toward me. I pulled her back against my chest, her silk-clad curves fitting perfectly against me.
I thought about the milk chocolate and the cigarettes, and the strength it took for her to be the "bossy brat" the world saw. I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder, making a silent promise to the girl who fought her way out of the dark.
"I've got you, Jay," I whispered, holding her close. "I'm never letting go."
The sound of my voice must have been enough to pull her from her light sleep. She stirred, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks before she looked up at me with sleepy, dark eyes.
"Keifer?" she murmured, her voice a little raspy.
"Hmm," I hummed, stroking her hair.
"When did you get here?" she asked, blinking away the fog of sleep.
"Just now," I said, shifting so I could bring her fully onto my chest.
She let out a light gasp as I hoisted her up, her silk nightdress riding up as she moved. I settled back, tucking one hand under my head so I could get a better view of her. The moon was hitting her face just right, highlighting the sharp, beautiful features of the girl I was going to marry.
"Now I can see you properly," I told her, my voice dropping an octave.
She stayed there for a moment, resting her chin on my chest. "Did you eat?" she asked, always the one worrying about the small things, even when she was half-asleep.
I nodded. "Wealthy people love their caviar. But," I said, my gaze dropping to her mouth, "I wouldn't mind having some dessert now."
Jay's eyes widened slightly as she caught my meaning. She let out a small, playful huff and pushed against my chest, but she didn't move away. Instead, she shifted and sat upright, straddling my stomach.
I stayed still, my hands resting on her hips, just looking at her. The way she sat there, looking like a queen even in a tiny piece of silk, made my heart hammer. I thought about what Jare said—about her strength, about the things she'd survived—and it only made her more incredible to me.
"What?" she asked, tilting her head, her fingers playing with the edge of her nightdress. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?" I asked, my voice thick.
"Like... like you're seeing me for the first time," she whispered.
I tightened my grip on her hips. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I'm just realizing how lucky I am that out of all the people in the world you could have meddled with, you chose me."
She smiled, that familiar, confident smirk returning to her lips. "I didn't choose you, Keifer. I claimed you. There's a difference."
I chuckled, pulling her down until her face was inches from mine. "Well, then. Claim me properly, Jay-Jay. No more talking."
She leaned down and kissed me, her lips soft and tasting of the mint she probably used before bed. I kissed her back, my hands sliding up from her hips to her back, pulling her closer until I could feel every inch of her. But just as things were heating up, she broke the kiss and rolled off me, settling back onto the mattress.
"What happened? I was enjoying that," I complained, feeling the sudden loss of her warmth.
"Idiot," she muttered, pulling the duvet up to her chin. "Sleep. And why are you only in your boxers?"
"Because I can't sleep in full clothes. To be honest, I prefer sleeping naked, but for your sake, I stopped myself," I teased, winking at her.
"Gago," she whispered.
I froze for a second, then a huge, triumphant grin spread across my face. She did it. She finally broke.
"Finally! Wifey, you cussed. Now pay up for all your profanities," I said, shifting so I could loom over her. "Let's see... the ones you said to me today, the ones Cin and Felix reported to me earlier, and we have to count the texts. You've probably crossed ten thousand by now."
Jay sat up, her eyes narrowing. "Wait, wait, wait. Texts? What texts?"
I felt the blood drain from my face. My ego had just written a check my life wasn't ready to cash. "Yeah... I texted you... remember? You called me a 'crazy idiot' once because I kept talking trash from that burner number..."
The silence in the room was deafening. Jay's eyes went from sleepy to murderous in point-five seconds.
"ASSHOLE! YOU WERE THAT PERVERT WHO KEPT TEXTING ME?!" she yelled, grabbing a pillow and whacking me over the head with it.
"Sorry! Jay-Jay, I'm sorry!" I yelped, trying to shield myself. "I just wanted to talk to you without you hanging up on me!"
"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" she shouted, hitting me again. "NO KISSES FOR YOU! FOR A MONTH! AND NO PROFANITIES? FINE! I'LL BE SILENT WHILE YOU SUFFER!"
"No, no, no!" I practically lunged for her, catching her wrists to stop the pillow assault. "You can't do that! Jay, baby, I can't live without your kisses. A month? I'll die. I'll actually wither away and die."
"Then die!" she huffed, turning her back to me and wrapping herself in the blanket like a cocoon. "Go sleep on the edge of the bed, you burner-phone creep."
"Jay-Jay... please," I whispered, poking her shoulder. "It was a love tactic! I was courting you... anonymously?"
"It was harassment!" she muffled into the pillow.
I groaned, flopping back onto my side. I had gone from the King of the Serpents to a begging puppy in under three minutes. Jare told me to be the light in her darkness, but he didn't tell me how to survive when she's the one bringing the lightning.
"Ten kisses," I bargained. "I'll let ten 'gagos' go for ten kisses."
"Make it twenty 'gagos' and zero kisses," she shot back.
"You're cruel, woman. Absolutely heartless."
I sighed, staring at the back of her head. Despite the yelling and the 'no-kiss' sentence, I felt a strange sense of peace. This was the Jay I knew—fiery, stubborn, and completely in charge. I'd take the pillow hits and the silence any day, as long as it meant she was here, safe, and loud enough to drown out the shadows.