Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Hades ran a hand over his jaw, his bicep flexing. But still he didn’t stare at me. He looked out the window as if he were lost in his thoughts.
“It didn’t take long for Zachariah to beat me, too.”
For a moment, I couldn’t compute what he said.
My father used to beat him?
Out of all the things I’d imagined about why they hated each other, that hadn’t been one of them.
“So I covered each one of those scars with my own. Dark slashes, designs, and scenes of how I felt on the inside, now projected on the outside.”
“I don’t understand,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. I was shaking my head, even though he wasn’t looking at me. “I don’t believe my father would be a monster.” I denied it because how could that be true?
At my silence, he turned and looked at me, a sardonic smile curving his full lips.
“The man who was your father isn’t the man I knew. He wasn’t soft or gentle. He wasn’t a brother. Zachariah was cold, hard, and with the help of our father, they beat me until the only thing I knew was pain.” He gripped his neck, his biceps flexing. “I let them think I was nothing, that I could be nothing. But I harbored all that anger and hatred deep inside of me until I rose from the ashes.”
He faced me then, holding out his arms, the muscles flexing, all that unrestrained masculine power on display.
“You want to know the type of man your father and grandfather were? Let me tell you a story, Bunny.”
Chapter 26
Hades
The fist came at me so hard and suddenly that my entire body was thrown back. I stumbled to stay upright, but a wave washed through my head, dizziness clouding everything around me.
I struggled to right myself as I crashed into the wall.
I gripped the brick, my fingers raw, bloody, and the skin torn. But I didn’t cry. At fifteen years old, I was bigger than all the men my father put me up against. All I did was eat, sleep, and train.
My tutoring was done by teachers of my father’s choosing. He wouldn’t even allow me to attend a normal school, not like Zachariah.
No, he’d be too ashamed to allow that shit, wanting to use me as a weapon to make him more money.
But the man my father put me up against tonight wasn’t like any of the other ones I fought. He was a head taller than me, so stocky and muscular that he hardly had a neck. He cursed at me in Russian, spitting at my feet and cracking his knuckles. He grinned sadistically.
His tattoos were ones I’d seen plenty of times covering the men who watched these fights. Prison tattoos that told the story of the underground.
“You stupid fucking piece of shit,” my father shouted, his face red as he glared at me.
He had a lot of money riding on this fight, but I felt drunk from all the hits and couldn’t even walk straight. The Russian had hit me twice upside the head. I was sure he rattled something, loosened my brain so it just slammed against my skull every time I moved.
“Get back in there.” My father pointed back to the center of the room. When I weaved, he grabbed my arm roughly and tossed me back toward the Russian.
My opponent grinned, his mouth tinged red from the one and only shot I got to his jaw. He turned and spit out a mouthful of pink-colored saliva. He crooked his finger at me. I could smell the anticipation coating him.
He swung out but I dodged and ducked. He was big but fast. I landed a few hits to his kidneys, and felt my own sadistic pleasure rise when he grunted from the impact.
I kept landing hit after hit, and I felt fucking optimistic that this wouldn’t be the first fight I lost. I was high on it.
Maybe Father and Zachariah would see me as an equal if I took this big fucking bastard down? Maybe they’d realize I wasn’t a lowly piece of shit, and part of the family? A real Cronus.
It was that moment of arrogance, that sliver of confidence, that had me picturing all the things I’d never have in life, but had always wanted.
The Russian barreled into me, shoulder checking me so hard I crashed to the ground, my head cracking back on the asphalt.
I was dazed, confused. He had his hand wrapped around my throat, hauling me up so just the tips of my toes touched the ground. I felt something warm and wet sliding down the back of my neck, and I blinked furiously to try to get my focus to correct. I couldn’t hear anything but this rush in my ears.
I could see the Russian’s mouth moving but I couldn’t hear anything.