CHAPTER 18
OLIVE
Filet mignon is my favorite,and Dylan must be a mind reader.
The dinner is delicious—a perfect filet, Caesar salad with homemade dressing, and delicious warm bread.
“I baked it myself,” Dylan adds as I pepper him with compliments. I fight back a moan as I bite into the meat, and Killian quirks an eyebrow at me.
But Brock is quiet, lost in his thoughts.
“That’s why I’m friends with him,” Killian adds. “He’s going to cook me my last meal, if I ever end up on death row from murdering Brock.”
He says it pointedly, purposely trying to get his attention.
Brock shoots him a glare and aggressively bites into a piece of buttered bread.
“Anyway,” Killian adds. “We have something to discuss. Family meeting, and all.”
“Is that what we are now?” I ask.
His blue eyes are piercing. “I told you that from the beginning, baby,” he purrs. “We’re your family now.”
“Killian,” Dylan warns as I sigh.
In a twisted way, it’s a sweet thing to say, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Dylan and Brock were Killian’s only family. But I miss my parents.
My dad, who taught me to program, and practically did a backflip when I was accepted into a prestigious school for computer science.
And my mom, a professor of English at a community college.
I miss them like crazy, and I know they miss me, which makes it worse.
I know they’re hurting because ofme.
But I stop that train of thought. I can’t blubber all over Dylan’s meal.
Besides, there’s an issue that needs to be addressed as soon as possible.
“I’m almost out of suppressants,” I say calmly.
As if it’s not a big deal, when in fact, it’s a fuckingemergency.
And finally, Brock snaps out of whatever mental spiral he was in.
“What?” He asks, as Dylan’s mouth falls open. Killian is the only one that’s calm; he leans back in his chair and grins.
Their scents mix with the aroma of their worry, and it makes my head ache.
“Yes,” I continue. “I have about three days left, unless I start rationing. And we all know—”
“But she won’t have to do that,” Killian adds quickly. “We have a plan.”
“Really.” Brock growls, glaring at him. “You have aplan.You mean like buying tainted pills filled with God-knows-what and poisoning her?”
“Well, it’s better than sending her toEden, like you want to do,” Killian retorts.
Brock’s face contorts in anger.