Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
The Augustines are already that, to a point. But the legitimate connections we will make once Madelena is of age and we’re married will solidify our place in social and political circles in Avarice and beyond. It will pave the way for the Augustine name not only to become a fixture of high society, but to own it outright. Those who snubbed us will bend a knee. Those who refused to do business with us will clamor for any crumb we throw their way. Those who openly opposed us will be cut out.
In my bathroom, I take off my jacket, remove my cufflinks, and roll up my shirt sleeves to wash my hands and my face. Remnants of blood stain the towel I use to dry my face as I take in my reflection. At first glance, I am respectable—a well-groomed man in a bespoke suit. Good looking. Promising. The Augustine heir.
But there are signs pointing to what I really am, what I come from. On my face, there’s a scar that splits my right eyebrow from a fight with Caius when we were kids. In my eyes, determination. Or, to the keener observer, ruthlessness.
I set the towel down and look at my hands, back and front. The cut across the center of one is not so out of the ordinary. My gaze travels up my arm to where the edge of one slash is visible. I push the shirt sleeve higher to see the rest. Forty-two slashes dug deep and healed roughly. All a part of my makeup now. Maybe one of the most defining things about me.
That thought brings on another. One of Commander Avery, or the Commander as we came to know him. Of what happened five years ago that irrevocably changed the course of my life. Of all of our lives. Ultimately, we came out on top. But the cost was brutal.
I draw a deep breath to steel myself.
I am an Augustine.
No, not only that.
I am the Augustine heir.
We are criminals. Killers. Just like the Commander. As much as our family may appear to be moving away from its roots, at our heart, we are a crime family through and through.
I wonder if Madelena saw the shadow of my past in my eyes when she laid her small, unblemished hand in mine.
“Santos.”
I startle at the sound of my mother’s voice. I blink, shifting my gaze to hers in the reflection of the mirror. She stands in my bedroom, leaning against the door frame, watching. How long has she been standing there?
Clearing my throat, I push the shirt sleeve down over the scars. I turn to her.
“Your father is waiting,” she says. She brushes a length of hair down over the right side of her face. I think it’s subconscious. She has a scar there, a burn she sustained when she was a teenager. She’s always careful to hide it under long bangs.
I smile, move to walk past her. “I’ll be right down,” I tell her, but she steps in front of me to block my path.
“Are you all right?” she asks, adjusting my tie.
I take in the blood red fingernails. Why do women do that, grow nails like claws? Although maybe she needs her claws. With a husband like Brutus Augustine, it makes sense.
She meets my eyes once she’s satisfied with the tie and smooths out the shoulders of my shirt. I look nothing like my mother. Nothing. I am wholly my father’s son. Where she is blond, I am dark. Where she is pale, I am olive-skinned.
“You did what you had to do,” she says with a reassuring smile.
“She’s fifteen,” I say.
“She won’t stay fifteen forever. Remember how they snubbed us for years. And never forget what they did to your aunt.”
“I won’t.”
“It’s for the family, Santos, and as your father’s chosen heir, the responsibility falls on your shoulders.”
I draw in a tight breath. I want to ask about Caius, about how he feels about that. I want to know how she feels about her first-born being set aside.
But I don’t get a chance to ask before she takes my bandaged hand, making me wince when she squeezes. “You have five years to get used to the idea of her, and she has five years to get used to the idea of you. Don’t disappoint your father. You know him.” I don’t understand her meaning but she smiles a wide smile and relaxes. “Let’s go. We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
4
Madelena
2 Years Later
* * *
“Did you see her?”
“What is she wearing? I mean, Morticia Addams much?”
I recognize the voices. One is Jane Smith, a generic girl with a generic name and a generic life. The other is Ana Hollis. I’ve known Ana since we were six. I met her in first grade, and we’d been best friends for just shy of ten years.