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KAYDEN “Alexander Carson speaking.” I release a long breath at the sound of his voice. Not too long ago, I wanted to kill this motherfucker with everything in me, but now, I don’t wish him harm—just because he’s Gareth’s grandfather. The grandfather he wouldn’t stop talking about. Grandpa this and Grandpa that. I don’t know when my animosity toward Alexander stopped, but it was probably around the time Cassandra started appearing in my nightmares trying to kill Gareth. And I wanted to kill her, in the nightmare, for daring to touch him. All sorts of fucked up, I know. “Hello?” Alexander speaks again. “Who’s this?” “Kayden Davenport,” I say as I leave the room where Gareth is sleeping and walk down the hallway. We brought him to one of my family’s safe houses in Chicago’s suburbs. The doctor stitched up his arm and head and said he’d lost a lot of blood, so he needed a transfusion. He also suffered a severe concussion and needs to be monitored carefully for the next twenty-four to forty