Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
A frown appears between his brows, and I can’t help but look at that bandage. This is the first time I’ve felt remorse in my life—because of him, because he hurt himself for me—and I don’t know how to stop this feeling.
One would think I’m immune to that, considering I slowly but surely killed my father using one of Julian’s undetectable drugs.
Years.
It took fucking years for his lungs to fail, but we got there. People thought it was because of the smoking, and we left it at that.
Yes, I became his favorite, and I honestly didn’t care for the fuckery he put me through with Vencor. The dark part of my soul enjoyed that shit. What I didn’t enjoy, however, were childhood images of my beaten-up mother curled up in depression and Ma Jina hiding in a room to cry so my mother didn’t see her.
I never forgave him for that.
After he helped me establish myself in the corporation and Vencor, he had no use being alive.
So off he went.
And I never regretted it. Not once.
But looking at Gareth’s Band-Aid and stitches sends a burn of discomfort through my bones.
“What do you mean I’m not coming along?” Gareth’s voice is low, controlled, but the tension threading through it is unmistakable. His anger simmers just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.
Before I can answer, the door flies open, and Jethro stumbles inside, clutching his laptop like it’s a lifeline, shielding his eyes with Moka’s cage as she hides inside. “I better not see any dicks, lovebirds. Are you covered up?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank fuck.” He puts down the cage and straightens. “Simone’s out there fighting for her life shounen anime style.” He whistles, shaking his head. “I disabled their communications, but your brother sent an army, Kayden. Goddamn, he really hates your guts.”
I grab Gareth’s wrist, pulling him toward Jethro. “Take him through the tunnel. I’ll meet you at the port.”
Jethro grins, already edging toward the door. “Don’t mind if I do. Fighting isn’t my thing, so let’s get out of here, Blondie.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Gareth yanks his wrist free and faces me, his jaw tightening. “I’m coming with you.”
“I said you’re not.”
“And I said I am.”
“You want to die or something?”
“Do you?”
“Sorry to interrupt this touching moment of overprotective banter,” Jethro interjects, inching toward the far-right door leading to the tunnel. “But the fighting is getting closer, and I’m not staying to be collateral damage.”
I shove Gareth toward the tunnel, my hand firm on his back. His muscles tense beneath my grip, rigid and defiant.
“Kayden, I said I’m not going—”
“Listen to me.” I grab his shoulders, forcing him to face me. My voice drops, firm and unyielding. “Your presence will put me in danger because I won’t be able to focus on anything but you. I can protect myself better if I know you’re safe. Do you understand me, Gareth?”
His lips part, trembling for a moment before he presses them into a thin line. “Am I your weakness?”
“Not a weakness,” I say, my voice softening. “But you’re the most important person to me, and I need you on your way to the port. Now.”
“Then come with me.”
“I can’t abandon Simone. I’ll get her and follow you. All right?”
I see the resistance in his eyes, the stubborn refusal to leave. Or maybe it’s his fixation, that all-consuming need to keep me within reach.
That’s why he came here in the first place. Gareth doesn’t like the thought of someone else ending my life.
But I’ve already made my decision.
“I won’t die.” I brush my lips against his forehead, and he goes still, a faint shiver rippling through his body. I step back, meeting his gaze. “You didn’t allow me to, remember?”
“You better not,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up to wrap around my throat. His chin quivers, his grip firm but hesitant. “I didn’t forgive you yet.”
“All right, we really need to go.” Jethro reaches for Gareth’s arm, casting me a wary glance.
“Protect him,” I tell Jethro, my tone brooking no argument.
Jethro gawks at me. “Pretty sure it should be the other way around. I’m the nerd in this situation.”
Gareth steps toward me, but I turn, pushing the door shut.
And lock it.
As I walk out, a gun in hand, I send Jethro a text.
Take him the fuck out of here. Drop him at his parents’ and tell them to ask their mafia connections for protection.
So maybe I lied.
Pretty sure I’m dying today.
Even if my brother’s men don’t manage it, the other founding families will. In their eyes, I’m an anomaly—a dangerous precedent that needs to be wiped out. And as a high-ranking member, they’ll want to make an example out of me, a gruesome one at that.
But at least Gareth is safe.
A long breath escapes my lungs as I move through the chaos, firing at anyone in my path. Each shot is a message—a dent in Grant’s little army for daring to come at me at the worst possible time.