King of Me (The King Trilogy #3)(51)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“I’m sorry. I was…” How long had it been since I’d seen her? In my mind, it felt like ages. But in her reality it had only been about a week. “Taking care of some business.”

“You should’ve called. We were worried sick.” I heard my father’s deep voice in the background asking if it was me on the phone.

“I know. I just…”

“You don’t need to explain, honey. I know this is just as painful for you as it is for us.”

She referred to Justin’s death. But I’d told them that he wasn’t dead. I’d told them that he was fine. All because I’d planned to bring him back.

“But he’s not—”

“Mia,” she said sternly, “you have to listen to me. He is gone. And he’s not coming back. You have to accept it.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“But I promise,” she said, “with time, things will get better. It just won’t be today…” Her voice faded into a throaty deep sob.

I could no longer hold back my own tears. “But what if he’s not gone? What if you could see him again?”

“Mia, that’s not going to happen. So, please, just come home, I’m begging you,” she cried. “We need to bury our son.”

I underestimated my mother. Instead of completely falling apart, she was trying to help me face my own pain. And in that moment, I felt a great big weight lift from my shoulders. She would be all right. She would make it through this somehow, though it wouldn’t be easy.

But that doesn’t make your choice any easier. Like Mack, I still loved my brother even though he might have lost his way and done some very, very bad things. But that was where I had to step back. I could not make my decision based on what other people told me, or thought of him. That would be like telling a mother to stop loving her child because he or she committed a crime. Love didn’t work like that. As for Justin, I had no clue what he had or hadn’t done, so I could only follow what I knew to be true in my heart: Justin was good. And sometimes good people did bad things—no one in this world was completely without fault. No one. But wasn’t that the purpose of family? They loved you no matter what. Otherwise, many of us with shaded pasts would be forever lost, with no reason to seek redemption. Love was what brought us back from our darkness, what restored us from the pain of our mistakes.

So maybe that was my true purpose in all of this: To be brave enough to love the unlovable. Only, now I had to choose which man really deserved a second chance.

“Mia? Are you still there?” said my mother.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I’ll feel much better once you are home. Where are you?”

“I’m…” Dammit. The less she knew the better, but I didn’t have the energy to lie anymore. “I’m on the next possible flight home. I’ll call you before my flight leaves. Okay?”

“Uh…okay.” She knew something was up and that I wasn’t going to tell her. “We’ll see you soon. We love you.”

“I love you guys, too.” I hung up and stared at the floor for a few minutes, thinking about Justin. Growing up, he reminded me so much of my mother. Their selfless attitudes. I wondered at what point his life steered off course. If I’d known, maybe I could’ve stopped it.

That’s it. I can save them both. My heart cartwheeled inside my chest. I’d been too tired and too in shock to see the options. If I had the ability to “see” for myself, then I could change the outcome of his fate. At least, I hoped I could.

I threw on the slip and dress, and dashed from the room, not bothering with my wet, sloppy hair. I ran toward King’s chamber, hoping he was there.

“Stefanos!” I called out, pushing the door to King’s room.

There, laid out cold on the bed, was King, shirtless and wearing his black jeans.

Stefanos stood to his side, still dressed in his police uniform, talking to another man. One of his brothers, I guessed.

“Stefanos, do you have the rock?” Because last I’d heard, King had acquired it, along with Vaughn, who’d had it in his possession.

He looked at me, obviously curious as to why I was so excited.

“Yes. Have you chosen?” he replied.

I nodded. “Give it to me.”

He waited, expecting me to speak. I responded by sticking out my hand.

Stefanos narrowed his brown eyes and then pulled the rock from his pocket and handed it over.

I stared at the thing, amazed by how it had colors of its own now as if the thing had a soul. Red and black. The colors of death and pain. It made sense given the connection to King and how it bound him to this world even after death.

I sat down on the bed and stared at King’s exquisitely handsome face. Even now, it was impossible to believe that he wasn’t a real man. But inside him, a war raged between the curse and his soul.

I reached out and touched his face. “I hope you’ll forgive me some day for what I put you through.”

Likely on his last ounce of patience, Stefanos wrapped his hands around the dagger sticking from King’s neck. “Are you ready?”

I looked up at him and nodded. “Ready.”

I closed my eyes, focused my energy on the stone in my hand, and squeezed it. Please work. Please work. But after a few moments, I realized it wasn’t going to crack.

“What are you waiting for?” Stefanos asked.

“I can’t break it.”

He narrowed his eyes and then glanced at his brother, who hung back near the door. “Get her a hammer.”

I smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Stefanos continued glaring.

Yeah, I finally understood why they hated me but also felt compelled not to harm me—it was not in King’s best interest, and their curse bound them to put his happiness ahead of their own. “I only meant for the Spiros to protect Callias. I swear it.”

He bobbed his head. “Did you have to bind our curse to a handful of sand?”

I grimaced. His point was that there was no way to undo their curse other than King’s curse ending. “…until he finds peace” were my words.

“I’m sorry. I really mean it.” The decision to curse the Spiros had been in the heat of the moment, but that didn’t undo the damage. Nevertheless, the only thing to do now was make things right.

His brother returned a few minutes later with a regular old hammer. He handed it to me, and I kneeled on the floor, positioning the rock between my fingers as if holding a nail.