“So you allowed this peon to steal from us?” Tyrone butted in with a look of horror. His weak-ass chin was starting to piss me off.
“Was there an advantage we’re all unaware of?” my father questioned.
“Yes. But the benefit was mine alone.”
Tyrone and my father shared a long look. “Then I expect every penny to be repaid from your personal accounts,” my father dictated.
“Of course. It’s already being handled.”
“And the man responsible? He’s dead, I assume?”
I paused at that since lying would be a deadly mistake, but so would telling the truth. I didn’t give a fuck if Roshaun lived or died. His sister, unfortunately, did. “Dead-ish,” I supplied with a noncommittal rock of my head.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means I’m not done playing with my food. I’m sending a message. Killing him too quickly won’t get my point across.”
“And is that the only reason?”
I took the time to sip my drink before answering. “What other reason would there be?” Staring at him over the rim of my glass, I silently dared him with my eyes to call me out.
Filled with too much ego to play the long game, my father played right into my hands. “Is his sister not your guest at Glainne right now?”
“I wouldn’t call her a guest,” I retorted honestly and yet duplicitously. After all, Coby was the queen of my castle, not a fucking guest. “As I said…” I set my glass on the table with an audiblethunk. “I’m sending a message. Coby Perry is mine until I’m done collecting interest.”
It was all I could do not to outwardly revolt when something like pride and approval filled my father’s eyes. “Very well. Do with the girl what you will, but do itquickly. I want this shit handled before anyone else gets any grand ideas.”
“And now for the other matter, “ Tyrone said. “We’ve set a new date for your marriage to Niamh. Given your recent and troubling objections, we’ve decided to move up the wedding to prevent any further disruptions. The ceremony will take place exactly two months from now.”
Knowing my father was incredibly literal, it was easy to calculate the date he had in mind.
Silently, I swore, but it made no difference. A second later, I threw my glass at the wall in front of me. Unfortunately, Tyrone’s reflexes were better than I gave him credit for, which pissed me off even more, especially when I knew this was his doing.
“And you all agree with this shit?” I shouted at the silent table. “No one finds it fucking weird thatshe’s our fucking cousin? This is the twenty-first fucking century. Even James knew better.” I directed that last part at my father, who idolized the father of theFola. Still, no one at the table said a word or stood up for Niamh, who was only eighteen fucking years old. She regularly babysat for the men around this table, helped a few of them study to get their GED, always remembered everyone’s birthday, patched our wounds when one of us took a bullet or a knife, and always showed love no matter what. “No, of course not,” I said with open disdain. “Fucking pussies would rather cower under my father’s heel than risk being trampled by it.”
Or maybe they were all just hoping my father would disown me and pick one of them.
“Are you done, son?”
Shoving away from my chair, I stood. I’ve known since I was a kid that my father wasn’t sane, but he was so much worse than having a few screws loose because morals and madness were not mutually exclusive. A man with no conscience was infinitely more dangerous. “Yeah, I’m fucking done. Plan all you want, but I ain’t marrying Niamh.”
My father shoved to his feet as well. “You will do as you’re told!”
The crystals in the chandelier above the table shook at the end of his roar. The men around the table looked at each other nervously. The room my mother was having renovated was right above us. One of the contractors probably dropped something, but my fathercapteanscouldn’t see through their fear, so instead of reaching for reason, the trembling chandelier added to the imagined omnipotence of my father.
I palmed my face.
I’m surrounded by weak and idiotic sycophants.
Not for long.
“Aye, I can’t lie. I think Ocean’s right,” Diontay said hesitantly. I forgot all about my father as I watched Dion lean forward to meet the gaze of everyone at the table. “I’m not down with this inbreeding shit. Y’all might be able to look away because it ain’t you, but I’m not dumb enough to believe it will stop with Ocean and Niamh.” Wrinkling his nose, he sat back in his chair and freed a blunt from his pocket. “There’s a planet full of bitches just itching to fill that spot,” he said as he lit up. “I know we all about blood ties and shit, but this is taking it too far.” Meeting my gaze, he nodded.
A heavy weight gradually lifted from my shoulders as pride and appreciation burrowed into my chest. Dion was ouryoungestcaptean. He was loyal, hungry, and smart as hell. He oversaw our weapons caches as well as the distribution and shipments in and out of Black Veil. Among all theFola’scapteans, Diontay’s division was the largest. He had more soldiers under his direct command than even me because if anyone ever got their hands on justoneof our armories, it would be an all-out war.
Fortunately, he was sitting on my side of the table, but that was by design since he had his position because of me. My father was power hungry, but he lacked vision and didn’t trust the younger generation. That’s where I came in. I gave them power, a voice, and a bigger slice of the pie. In return, they made sure that when I inevitably went to war with my father, I would win.
“Sorry, Unc. I’m with Diontay and Ocean on this one,” Keefe said. There were murmurs and faint nods of agreement all around.
