Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
He lets out a rough laugh. “Unforced loyalty? In our business? You’ve indeed seen the world, boy, but you clearly haven’t learned much about human nature from your travels.”
His condescension grates on me, his words dripping with a disdain only someone evil could muster. But I hold my temper in check, reminding myself that he is still the one behind the reins.
“Perhaps you’re right,” I concede. “Perhaps I haven’t learned all there is to learn. But I know enough to realize it’s time for a paradigm shift within our family. Our business needs to evolve if we want to survive.”
He rolls his eyes. “There’s no room for evolution in our line of work. You either rule or you’re ruled. You feast or you starve. You kill or be killed.”
But even as he says this, I can see the weariness in him. No matter how strongly he projects his outward confidence, he’s an old man now. One whose day in the sun has passed.
“Yes, Grandfather,” I reply patiently, “and I’m willing to do my part. But right now, I need your connections with the EPA.”
“What for?”
“I told you. Puzo.”
“Don’t underestimate my intelligence, boy. Puzo has nothing to do with the EPA and we both know it. You want this for something personal.” He crosses his arms. “We don’t do personal.”
I scoff. A laughing scoff at that. “We don’t do personal? Just yesterday you wanted me to kill Raven Bellamy to punish her brother. An innocent young woman who is trying to recover from a catastrophic illness. You don’t get more personal than that.”
“What do you need the information for?” he demands.
No way am I telling him I need to stop excavation of land so I can recover Diego Vega’s dead body from the Bellamy property. My grandfather would find a way to use it against the Bellamys, whether Savannah is engaged to one of them or not.
I grab the gun quickly and retrain at my grandfather’s head. “Asked and answered.”
“Fine,” he says, his voice laced with frustration. “But remember this, Vincent. You’re playing a dangerous game. And in our business, you can’t afford to lose.”
“I don’t intend to,” I reply, keeping my gaze steady on his.
He gazes back at me for a moment longer before leaning back in his chair and running a hand across his weary face. He takes a deep breath and pulls out a small worn notebook from his desk drawer, flipping it open to reveal page after page of names and numbers. With a heavy sigh, he jots down a few names on a piece of paper and then slides it across the table towards me.
“Here,” he says, “These are the people you need.”
I take the piece of paper from him, scanning through the names quickly before pocketing it. “Thank you, Grandfather.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he mumbles, going back to the pile of paperwork on his desk. “You’ve yet to see the consequences of your choices.”
“I can handle them.” I place the gun back on his desk and rise.
As I turn to walk away, my grandfather’s voice echoes one last time.
“We’ll see, Vincent. We’ll see.”
I exit his office, my heart pounding in my ears. The ghost of his chilling warning lingers, but it’s drowned out by the sweet taste of rebellion.
I let out a long sigh, my mind racing with plans and possibilities. I glance at the piece of paper. These are government officials who can be bought. The price will be high, but I will get what I need out of them.
As I stride down the hallway, my shoes clicking against the marble floor, I glance back at the door of my grandfather’s office.
I’m doing this for Savannah, for Falcon.
For Raven.
I drive home to my parents’ mansion. It’s quiet, as only my mother, the housekeeper, and I live here now.
I head to the room that once housed my father’s home office. It’s mine now. Once inside, I shut the door and lean against it, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’ve been holding. The paper feels heavy in my pocket—heavy with the potential for chaos.
I pull it out and stare at the hastily scribbled names again. There are three—a senator from Louisiana, an EPA chief, and a city councilwoman from New York City.
I text the EPA chief from a burner phone. She’s the one I need, after all.
The response is swift, a short and simple Yes?
I take a moment to consider my words, knowing that they carry great weight. This is a person Grandfather—and probably my father as well—has had dealings with.
I type out my message.
Need a favor. Confidential.
Her reply is almost immediate. Who is this?
I smirk at the screen. She isn’t playing games.
A mutual friend, I reply.
A pause before she replies again.
What kind of favor?
The kind that requires your professional involvement and discretion.
Another pause—longer this time—before she finally sends back a single word.