"Pierce, please I'm trying to study." I let out an aggravated sigh as my eyes flickered upward from the white-colored pages of my textbook. Pierce approached closer to me, sliding the textbook out from my lap and throwing it to the side.
"Take a bre...
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"Pierce." My voice wavered as I stopped, turning back to see him frozen in place. His hands were shoved deep into his coat pockets, his eyes glued to Xander's mansion where light poured from every window, illuminating the darkness around us. I watched his expression shift, his confidence crumble as the weight of what was coming settled in. His lips pressed into a thin, trembling line, and his eyes—usually so sharp—seemed hollow, filled with despair he couldn't hide.
I exhaled slowly, knowing there was no magic phrase to take away his pain. No words would make this easier for him. Abandoning the top step that led to the door, I walked back to him, feeling the cold seep into my skin. I gently cupped his face with my right hand, my palm cool against his wind-chilled cheek. His skin was cold, whipped by the bitter winter wind, but his eyes—his eyes were worse. They were filled with the kind of fear that gnawed at your soul.
"I'm right here with you," I whispered, my voice soft but firm, trying to anchor him, to pull him out of the abyss of his spiraling thoughts. His breath hitched, and he let out a shuddering sigh, his hand wrapping tightly around my wrist like I was his lifeline. His peppermint breath lingered between us, forming a fragile fog in the cold air. For a moment, it felt like the world stood still, but his eyes remained locked on the mansion, fearful of what was to come. Of how they were to react.
"They're going to lose their shit." His voice cracked, and for the first time, I could hear the vulnerability that lived beneath his usual calm exterior.
"Then let them," I replied, shrugging with a casualness I didn't feel. "They'll never understand, Pierce. They don't know what we've been through. None of them do. But I guarantee you—if it had been any one of them in your place, if it had been someone they loved, they would have done the same damn thing."
I meant every word. The truth was brutal, but it was undeniable. Pierce killed his father because he was protecting me. And as much as his siblings might want to cast stones, I knew in my gut that June would've done it for Cypress, Xander for Phoenix. Hell, any of them would've crossed that line if it meant saving someone they loved.
"How the fuck am I supposed to tell them?" His voice was barely more than a whisper, but the fear in it was suffocating. I could see the panic unraveling behind his eyes, twisting his insides into knots. He was terrified, and I couldn't blame him. I was scared for him, too. There was no right way to break this kind of news, no way to soften the blow of betrayal and murder. Not even on Christmas Eve.
I straightened his suit jacket, smoothing out the edges as if fixing the fabric could somehow prepare him for the storm that was about to hit. "We'll do it together. I'll be right there with you, every second. No matter what happens, you're not doing this alone."
Pierce's breath caught again, and he glanced up at me, his usually steel-gray eyes now filled with raw, unfiltered fear. I had never seen him like this—Pierce Gunner, the man who never flinched, never backed down, was standing before me looking as if the world was collapsing under his feet. He was crumbling, and it hurt to see. I could feel the tremor in his hands, see the way his gaze flickered with the kind of desperation that came from being utterly lost.
