His nonchalant attitude makes me fucking livid. “You killed them,” I shout, and the fingers in my hair tighten, holding my head in place. “Adam, Saint, Haidyn, and Ashtyn. You killed them all.” I give a manic laugh. “Your brothers are going to make you suffer.” That’s something I don’t want to miss. My father deserved death long before now. But what’s that saying? The good die young. Evil lives for fucking ever.
“No,” he argues. “They’re going to make you suffer.”
“Don’t fucking put this shit on me,” I scream, yanking on the cuffs that dig into my wrists. “You?—”
“You did this, Kashton.” His voice is much calmer than mine. “You didn’t get to them in time.”
What? He can’t be serious. “You didn’t even let me try.” Panic grips my chest and my breathing becomes labored. He set me up. My father has always hated me. I was never going to be good enough for him.
Now he’s gone and done the unspeakable. He’s killed his brothers’ only sons and framed me for it.
He stands from the table and removes a revolver from the inside of his suit jacket. Opening up the cylinder, he empties all the bullets into his free hand and pockets them. Then he places one on the table next to the gun andmoves to stand in front of me. He nods to the man behind me, who lets go of my hair and then undoes the cuffs.
I jump to my feet, and the force kicks the chair over. “Going to fucking kill me, Father?” I challenge. “Then run to your brothers and blame me for you killing their children?”
“I’m not going to do anything, son. You’re going to do it yourself.”
“No—”
He punches me in the face, and it sends me falling to the floor. I’m off balance from the drugs. Getting to my hands and knees, I spit blood onto the concrete.
“I wanted to teach you a lesson, Kashton. Your mother…” He pauses. “She was too soft with you. Wanted you to be a ‘good boy.’ It’s pathetic and embarrassing,” he shouts. After taking a deep breath, he huffs. “I left you one bullet, son. As you said, your brothers are dead and so is Ashtyn. You failed them. You let them die. Suffer. Now it’s your turn to do the same.”
I get to my feet and sway. My vision is a little blurry from the hard hit to the side of my face. I’m so tired. All the anger has left my body and it’s drained me. I’m like a balloon deflated.
“You have sixty seconds.” He pulls the cuff back on his suit jacket and watches the seconds on his Breitling.
My eyes fall to the revolver that is sitting on the table. I’m all alone. My brothers made this horrible life tolerable.
The thought of suicide has never crossed my mind, but I’ve never thought about living alone, either. My brothers and I were in this life together. I had their backs and they had mine. I let them down. They needed me and I didn’t help.
I’ve got one more initiation to pass before I have any power in our world. Right now, I’m just a son of a Spade brother, and my best friends are dead.
Their deaths are on me. My father was right. It doesn’t matter that he rigged the game. He set me up and I fell right into his trap.
“Twenty seconds,” he warns.
Stepping forward, I pick up the gun with shaking hands and open the cylinder. I slip the bullet in, lining it up with the barrel and close it.
“Fifteen,” he calls out.
I lift the gun and point it at his chest. His eyes find mine and the corner of his lips twitch. I hate myself even more. He knew I’d make this move. He fucking knows everything.
“Going to kill me?” He snorts. “Just like you did your brothers?”
“I didn’t kill them,” I scream in his face. “I was trying to save them.”
“Time’s up, Kash.” He steps into the gun, and it trembles in my hand. “You or me?”
As much as I want to kill him, it won’t solve anything. My father deserves to be miserable; he deserves to know what it feels like to suffer, and I’m the only one who can do that. There’s no one left to punish him.
I move the gun to the right of him and fire. “Fuck you,” I shout over the ringing in my ears.
He begins to laugh as he pulls my cell phone from his suit jacket. “You’ve always been weak, Kashton. Not killing yourself proves just how much.” Placing it on the table, he shakes his head before he disappears through the plastic strip curtains.
“Goddammit.” I slam the gun down on the table.
I’m shaking and tears sting my eyes. I fucking hate the Lords. Everything about them. My father, most of all. He wants me to hate life. We’re tested to see just how low we’ll go, and I will not give him the satisfaction of killing myself. I’d rather live and disappoint him. No matter how alone I am.
