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“Lock him up.”
Porsche stared at Kinn, disbelieving—no, unwilling to believe.
“I trust no one.”
Didn’t Kinn realize that Porsche had done this for him? Because Kinn had been betrayed by a man he once loved, because Kinn didn’t trust this man and Porsche didn’t want him getting hurt a second time. Kinn had told him all of this—had made love to him after—and Porsche had vowed to protect this man, body, heart, and soul and now…
“Kinn,” he called, not letting himself accept that this was truly happening. After everything they had been through together recently, how could Kinn turn on him so quickly? He could feel panic claw at his chest at the turn of events, a pressure creeping up his throat as Big and Ken grabbed at his arms. He stood there, looking down at the man he loved and willing him to just trust him. For once in his life.
But Kinn’s eyes were hard, unrelenting. They held no emotion and Porsche felt his heart sink, a ball of lead in his stomach. Because this was the face Kinn wore in the field, in meetings, against enemies of the family. This was not the man Porsche knew; this was not the man he loved.
One last try.
“Kinn,” he said, willing himself to not cry in front of everyone. With that one word he tried to convey all of the anguish, love, and conviction he felt. Kinn of all the people here knew him best; if he couldn’t see the truth and reasoning behind Porsche’s actions, no one else would.
And yet…
Kinn didn’t so much as blink, impassive as ever in the face of having Porsche’s life and his heart in his hands. A wall had come down between them and Porsche had no way of breaking through.
Feeling his vision begin to blur, Porsche spared his lover one last look. ‘Who are you? Who are we?’ he found himself wondering, roughly angling his body away and tearing his arms from Big and Ken’s hold.
He knew where the prison cells were. He would get there on his own.
—
Porsche sat there, breathing through the pressure that sat on his chest like a boulder, immovable, pressing, pressing, pressing…
He shuddered.
The cell’s floors were hard, cold, unforgiving. Like Kinn, his mind reminded him, and he exhaled shakily at the thought.
He didn’t know what this meant for him now. Would he ever be a bodyguard again? Would they find him guilty? If they did, would he be fired or just killed, tossed into the ocean to be forgotten and never found again? What would happen to Porsché?
His poor brother. To lose both parents so young and now facing the possibility of losing the last of his family as well.
Porsche felt the guilt surfacing, battling against all of the other emotions that were waging a war within him as he sat here in this dark, silent cell.
If they did decide to kill him, perhaps he could get Kinn to promise to look after his brother after he was gone? His lover had always seemed to have a soft spot for the bond Porsche had with Porsché. Maybe he would be willing to—but no.
Kinn didn’t show mercy to traitors. And for all Porsche knew, maybe he had only cared about Porsché because he loved Porsche. ‘Did he, though?’ a voice echoed in his head.
He clenched his hand into a fist, gritting his teeth and exhaling, the breath coming out in a low hiss.
‘Or were you just warming his bed?’
The pressure behind his closed eyelids came back with a vengeance, the feeling of suffocating and choking again clawing at his throat, forcing him to gasp and gag through it, willing the tears to not fall. To think he had trusted—no. No. He pressed a clenched fist to his temple, visibly shaking.
He did—does—trust Kinn. He has to, because without trust in the other man, there was no hope left for him or them.
‘Was there ever a them?’
Try as he might, the tears found their way down his face.
—
Kinn had had no choice. Like the majority of his life, everything and every moment was about maintaining a façade, an image of control and power in the face of constant betrayal.
The lost look in Porsche’s eyes, the pain and confusion as he had stared down at Kinn and willed Kinn to trust him—
“You never trust me.”
Kinn clenched his eyes shut at the reminder, tossing back another shot of whiskey. He had apologized to Porsche after that, he remembered, and here he was ruining every good memory they had created together since then.
But if he hadn’t instructed Big and Ken to lock Porsche up, the outcome could have been so much worse. Potential traitors would think he had gone soft, people would begin rising up against him thinking he wouldn’t retaliate, even his own bodyguards would begin disrespecting him, and—
…and now the one man he did trust, loved, sat alone in a dark cell, likely thinking Kinn had lied to him this whole time. Likely thinking that every single moment they had shared—the café, the temple, the pool, the playful sneaking around—they had all been lies, tricks by Kinn to get him into bed.
Kinn felt self-hatred bubble under his skin, the feeling so strong it felt like it would consume him whole if he let it. Maybe he deserved it.
He poured himself another finger of whiskey. He couldn’t go visit Porsche yet; it would be too suspicious. They had to get through this “big meeting” first to at least play out the situation. Kinn could only pray that Porsche loved him enough—trusted him enough, even if Kinn never properly returned the favor—to hold onto whatever little bit of faith he had left in Kinn.
Kinn would set things right. He would fix this.
He just needed Porsche to hold on for a little bit longer. His lover had pledged his life to Kinn—to protect him, love him, cherish him; he would die for Kinn. Kinn vowed he would return the favor or die trying.