Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I look to Brantley, hate brewing in my gut. I trusted him; Bishop trusted him. That must be why Bishop told me to leave. I look back at Hector. “Wish I could say I was sorry.”
Hector pauses, tilts his head, and then chuckles, pulling a cigar out from his suit jacket. “Well, I guess you have been reaping all the benefits.”
“Why am I here?” I ask, sounding way more confident than I really am.
He rests his ankle on his knee, taking a puff of his cigar. “I thought it was about time you were filled in on something. A few things, actually.”
“Oh?” I whisper out hoarsely. Secrets revealed just gives him more of a reason to kill me if he wants, but I’ll take it.
“Does the name Venari mean anything to you, Madison?” His eye squints as the smoke puffs past.
Swallowing, I close my eyes, shutting out my early distant memories.
Don’t remember.
Let it go.
Build the wall and stay over it.
“No.” I open my eyes and plaster a fake smile. “It doesn’t.” Wall back up.
He narrows his eyes at me, as if to try to read my mind. He won’t find anything by trying, just darkness and pain I’ve suppressed from childhood memories. Memories I used to fight every day to forget. But I’m curious how he knows that name. “Why?”
The limo stops and he looks to Brantley, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s take a walk down memory lane.”
He gets out of the car and I follow, shutting the door behind me. Walking around to the front of the car, the bright headlights beam up toward the log cabin.
Brantley steps up beside me as we both watch the front door. “Bishop may be the king of the Kings, but he forgets there’s a higher power than him. His dad.”
I know this already, as I’m sure Bishop knows this too. Hector smiles at Brantley and pats him on the shoulder. “Good boy.” Then I watch as he walks into the cabin.
“Brantley,” I whisper. “What the fuck is going on here?”
He doesn’t answer. He simply gestures toward the door, but it’s not in an insolent way. His jaw is clenched, and there’s fire in his eyes. He’s not happy; actually, fuck that—he’s pissed.
“I believe you already know who this is.” Brantley puts a cigarette into his mouth and lights it, just as Hector steps down the cabin steps with—
I gasp, my legs turn to jelly, and my stomach recoils, breakfast threatening to come up.
Brantley’s lip curls. “Daddy dearest, AKA—Lucan Vitiosus.” Voices come in and out, my head pounding as memories start flooding back. All the hard work over the years I put into blocking them out doesn’t mean shit now, because the wall hasn’t just dropped. I look up, my eyes connecting with my childhood abuser, and that wall shatters to a million pieces. There’s no rebuilding that.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I turn around and go to run, only someone steps in front of me, blocking me from going further, and I fall flat on my ass. That person isn’t Brantley, because I see Black Converse shoes and tight yoga pants. I bring my eyes up to the small torso and frame until I’m met with one of the most exotic-looking girls I have ever seen in my entire life. Her black hair floats effortlessly and naturally down over her chest, her eyes curve in almonds, and her skin holds a natural golden tint. She’s stunning in an obvious way. The kind of way that she’d gain attention anywhere she goes no matter what she’s wearing. All that beauty gets washed out when she opens her mouth.
“You’re so much prettier in photos.” She tilts her head, and I stand to my feet, brushing off the dirt from my butt.
“Who the fuck are you?” I whisper out, I meant it to be harsher than it came out, but with tears pouring down my cheeks, I’m not in a very badass state right now.
Hector appears beside me and tsks. “Madison, play nice with Khales. She’s a good little puppet.”
I freeze. All thought processes mute, and my skin prickles to life. Khales?
I say the first thing that comes up in my head. “I thought you were dead.”
She laughs, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Naw, honey, there’s so much”—she steps toward me and presses her finger to the tip of my nose—“you just don’t know.”
I step backward, squaring my shoulders. Is she intimating? Yes. But I’ve grown accustomed to being around a pack of wolves, so instead of running from them, I learned how to play with them. If she thinks I’m going to roll over and submit to her ways, she’s deluded. Even if I’m feeling emotional about coming face-to-face with Lucan, I won’t bow to her. “I don’t doubt that at all, but why am I here?” I look to Hector. “Where is your son?”