BOUND BY HATRED | TOM KAULITZ

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE | TYRA KÄUTNER |

•TYRA KÄUTNER•

Tom interrupted me in the middle of something I'd rather not show him — not yet, at least. But now he's acting weird. We're downstairs, eating two of the meals the chef left in the fridge. Tom is chewing his meat like he can't even taste it, looking moodily out the kitchen window to the pool outside.

"What's going on?" I ask him, taking a bite of braised short rib and grilled carrot. This is about as decadent as it gets in casa Kaulitz, so I'm trying to enjoy my meal. But that's hard to do with Tom sitting stone - faced right next to me.

"Nothing," he says shortly.

"What are you all wound up about? Poking a stick in the hornet's nest?"

I'm aware that someone named "The Butcher" isn't the best target to antagonize. Still, I'm excited at the prospect of hunting down Zajac.

I've been playing the good girl for weeks now.

It's time to get in a little trouble.

"Yes," Tom says testily.

"I'm concerned about teeing up against an unhinged gangster. Especially two days before the election."

"Maybe we should hold off, then," I tell him.

"Wait until after to slap back at him."

"If we don't find him tonight, then that's what I'll do," Tom says.

"But I'd rather deal with it sooner than later."

Tom's phone buzzes with a message. He glances at it, saying, "Your brothers are here."

A minute later they pull up in front of the house, parking and getting out of Ryder's Escalade warily. They haven't been here since Nessa's party.

I can tell they feel awkward coming in through the kitchen door.

"Nice house," Ryder says politely, as if he hasn't seen it before.

"Yeah, very nice," Nash says, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking all around the gleaming, modern kitchen. His eye catches on the one thing out of place. He bends over for a closer look, saying, "Is that a-"

"Yes," I interrupt him. "And we don't need to talk about it."

Simone already read me the riot act about the bullet hole in her cabinet door. I think she was angrier than when I tried to poison her son. This house is her actual favorite child. It would have gotten ugly if Tom hadn't covered for me, telling her it was an accident.

She didn't look convinced.

"How am I even going to get someone to fix it?" she demanded, eyes blazing. "How am I going to explain to some carpenter that he needs to dig a bullet out before he can fill in the hole?"

"You could act totally surprised," I said helpfully.

Tom shot me a look, telling me to shut up, immediately.

"I could get the bullet out first," he said.

"No!" Simone snapped, "Don't touch it. You two have done enough."