Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
I swallow past the swell in my throat. “That’s why you threatened to take River. Because she’s a living Stuprum.”
He lowers his body onto the sofa, crossing his legs at the ankles. His head bends to the side as he studies me. “Yes. But you know, then I thought, hmmm… Was this set up? Did Mother Katsia know that I was going to do this and adopt this useless bag of bones as a decoy to protect someone else?”
He shrugs.
He was wrong. The old Katsia wasn’t even of Stuprum blood. Good to know our classified files stay that way.
“I guess we’ll never know now that she’s dead, but I had a better idea. I use River to get to you. A Hayes. Not just any Hayes, but one who is also Venari. How is your grandfather, by the way? I must say, I’ve not seen him in a long time.”
I clench my teeth. Of course, he knows Pop. Every bad man in this world knows him. But they always forget, Pop was nicknamed Hector “Mad King” Hayes, and whispers are fast swirling about Priest “Mad Prince” Hayes. Something I’ll never get to see. The rise of my brother taking the gavel. As us Kings. It hurts too much to feel, so I squash it down with my anger.
My teeth grind together to stop myself from losing it. Waiting a few moments until I’m calm, I move to the final boy. “And him?”
“Well, this one right here is Deacon.” The man’s eyes flash with pride. “Deacon Hayes.”
My heart stops as the boy lifts his head up to me. Forest green eyes that I’m sure will burn when given the chance, and soft sable hair. His chin is pointier than mine and Priest’s, but he has the Hayes cheekbones.
“What?”
“Mhhmm. That’s right. Your grandfather hasn’t been as honest with you lot as you would have liked, and by ‘you lot’, I mean your father.” Acid rises up my throat.
“Pop had another son?” My brows knit together. Not possible.
“No.”
My eyes fly to the aged piece of ham on the sofa.
“Your grandfather actually gave me this idea, so I should give him props. I bet not a single person knows this, not even your mother, but when your father and the Kings were, I don’t know, around your age, Hector was still running around as the Mad King.” His eyes widen as if reminiscing. “He ordered the three of them to give samples of their semen just in case, ya know—" He waves his hand. “Someone got someone pregnant and then the rest also needed to get pregnant within that birth window that you lot are wild about, or worse, none of them settled but they still needed another generation to carry.”
“You’re a liar.” My nails dig their way into my palms. “How would you know this? No one is privy to King business.”
“I know, Halen, because I was your grandfather’s oldest friend.” The wrinkles in his cheeks deepen when he smiles. “Think of you and Evie.”
My blood turns cold. “Don’t you ever say her name again.”
“Noted.” He pushes up from the sofa. “As I was saying, the samples were saved for a long time. When your father met your mother, and Nate and Brantley, and so on, they all ordered Hector to destroy them. Your pop did, because at that point, he was all I’m a good father now. Which is also around the time we stopped being friends.” He stops a moment.
No one knows much about Pop’s life, and I can bet that the mothers didn’t know this happened either.
“He didn’t destroy one. Bishop’s. Because even though he was trying to be a good father, he was still, after all, the Mad King. I knew he wouldn’t have discarded it. I knew Hector better than he knew himself.” He moves to a small kitchen tucked in the corner of the room. I keep him in my peripheral, but I don’t turn. My eyes stay on Deacon. “I had shared many things with Hector over the years. My ideas. What I thought the Kings needed to be stronger. One of them was breeding from the most powerful bloodlines known in the underworld. It was having generational power and, well, leverage. I cornered him one night. It was after your mother had you and your brother. He was outside, smoking a cigar, and looked the happiest he had ever been. I couldn’t have that. He knew from the moment he saw me that I had been planning something. He noticed the gang of young boys across the street, and knew they worked for me. I told him that there would be a day that would come, where I’d take something from him, just as he did me. He knew he couldn’t fight me. He knew he’d die a street rat. So, he gave me the one thing that would stop me from ever coming for you.” He gestures out to Deacon with his glass. “Ta-da, the sperm!”