MARRY YOUR KILLER
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Cracks
---
The contract stayed on the nightstand.
Jay woke the next morning to sunlight and the sound of Keiran's voice echoing through the house. He was in the kitchen with Percy, asking questions about everything, his voice high and fast and endless. Percy was answering them, or trying to, his own voice rising to match the boy's energy.
She sat up. The ring was still on the nightstand beside the contract. She looked at it for a long moment. She didn't put it on.
She dressed in black. She pinned her hair up. She walked to the kitchen.
Keiran was at the table, a plate of eggs in front of him, his hands moving as he talked. Percy was beside him, his chin in his hands, his face soft. Keifer was at the counter, pouring coffee. Keigan was in the corner, his arms crossed, his face cold.
Keiran looked up when she walked in. His face lit up.
"Ate Jay!"
He ran to her. He hugged her waist. His arms were small. His hands were tight.
"You're awake! Percy made eggs. They're not burned. He said he learned how to make them. He said you taught him. He said—"
"Keiran," Keigan said from the corner. "Sit down. Eat."
Keiran looked at his older brother. His face fell. He walked back to the table. He sat down. He picked up his fork.
Jay walked to the counter. Keifer handed her a cup of coffee. His fingers brushed hers. She didn't pull away. She didn't lean in.
"Morning," he said.
"Morning."
She sat at the table. Keiran was beside her, eating his eggs, his eyes on her. Keigan was across from her, his face cold, his hands still. Percy was beside Keifer, his face soft, his eyes moving between them.
Keiran finished his eggs. He looked at Jay.
"Ate Jay," he said. "Are you going to work today?"
Jay looked at the study door. The map was inside. Her uncle's face. The war.
"Yes," she said.
"Can I come? I can help. I'm good at maps. Kuya says I'm good at maps. He says I have a good memory. He says—"
"Keiran," Keigan said.
Keiran stopped. He looked at his plate.
Jay touched his arm. His skin was warm.
"You can help," she said. "After breakfast."
Keiran looked up. His face was bright.
"Really?"
"Really."
He hugged her again. His arms were small. His hands were tight.
She looked at Keifer across the table. His face was calm. His eyes were not.
---
The study was full.
Keiran was standing at the map, his finger tracing the lines, his voice low as he read the names. He knew them all. He had been listening to his brother for years, learning the names of the enemy, the places where the war was fought.
"Your uncle," Keiran said, touching the photograph. "He's the bad man."
Jay stood beside him. "He's the bad man."
Keiran looked at her. His face was serious.
"Kuya will stop him," Keiran said. "Kuya stops everyone."
Jay looked at Keifer. He was at the desk, his laptop open, his hands still. He was watching them.
"Your kuya is very good," she said.
Keiran nodded. He looked at the map again.
"Can I put the pins in?" he asked.
She handed him the pins. He put them in, one by one, careful, precise. He had done this before. He had been doing this for years.
Keigan stood in the doorway. His arms were crossed. His face was cold. He was watching her.
She met his eyes. He didn't look away.
---
Percy found Keigan in the garden.
He was standing by the fence, his arms crossed, his face turned toward the house. The flowers were blooming. The steps where Keifer sat every night were empty.
Percy stood beside him.
"You're watching her," Percy said.
Keigan didn't answer.
"She's not wearing the ring."
Keigan's jaw tightened. "I know."
Percy looked at the house. At the study window where Jay was standing with Keiran, her hand on his shoulder, her face soft.
"She signed a contract," Percy said. "Two years. Then she leaves."
Keigan looked at him. His face was cold. His eyes were not.
"She's not leaving," Keigan said.
Percy looked at him. Seventeen years old. Already a killer. Already a weapon. Already the man their father had trained him to be.
"How do you know?" Percy asked.
Keigan looked at the window. At Jay's face, soft in the morning light, her hand on his brother's shoulder.
"She's not leaving," he said again.
He walked back to the house.
---
Care found Cole in the kitchen.
He was making tea. His hands were steady. His face was calm. He looked at her when she walked in.
"Keigan is here," he said.
"I know."
"He's watching her."
Care walked to the counter. She stood beside him.
"She's not wearing the ring," she said.
"I know."
She looked at his hands. They were steady.
"She's not going to put it back on," she said.
He turned. His face was close. His eyes were soft.
"She might," he said.
She looked at him. His hair was messy. His shirt was wrinkled. He looked like he had been standing in this kitchen for hours, which he had.
"You're always hoping," she said.
He smiled. "I'm always hoping."
She almost smiled. Almost.
"Ask me in a year," she said.
He laughed. He kissed her forehead.
"A year," he said.
---
The night came.
Keiran was asleep in his room, the dinosaur posters on the walls, the nightlight shaped like a moon. Keigan was in his room, his light on, his door open, his face turned toward the ceiling.
Jay stood at her window. The garden was dark. The steps were empty.
She looked at the nightstand. The contract was there. Twenty-three pages. Two years. A promise to leave.
The ring was beside it. Gold. Thin. A circle that meant nothing.
She picked it up. It was warm in her hand.
There was a knock at the door.
She didn't answer. The door opened anyway.
Keifer stood in the doorway. His face was tired. His eyes were dark.
"You're awake," he said.
"I'm awake."
He walked into the room. He stood beside her at the window.
"Keiran asked me today," he said. "He asked me why you're not wearing the ring."
She looked at the ring in her hand.
"What did you tell him?" she asked.
He took her hand. His fingers were warm. His grip was steady.
"I told him you weren't ready."
She looked at him. His face was close. His eyes were steady.
"And are you ready?" she asked.
He took the ring from her hand. He held it between them.
"I've been ready," he said.
He slid the ring onto her finger. It fit. It had always fit.
She looked at her hand. At the ring that was there, that had always been there, that she had taken off because she was scared.
"You signed a contract," he said. "Two years. Then you leave."
She looked at him. His face was tired. His eyes were dark.
"I'm not leaving," she said.
He pulled her close. His arms went around her. His face was in her hair.
"I know," he said.
---
END OF CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE