Sixteen months later …
Czar glares at me from across the table, and who can blame him? He still feels utterly betrayed by the one man he always defended, and now he’s burdened with a wife he doesn’t want nor trust.
Every move I made was to protect him. When will he see that? Has he learned nothing from Hevan’s assault?
Still, the hatred rolls off him in venomous waves.
When my world crumbled over a year ago, he was the one who helped me succeed, the one who collected the empty bottles along with the dozen full ones and disposed of them. The one who threatened every one of our dealers with decapitation if they so much as came within one hundred feet of me. Difficult, considering we’re drug dealers.
My father noticed me slipping and, truthfully, he believed my lie because of my reaction to Hevan’s absence.
He was told she had been moved to a safehouse after the night he assaulted her, but her refusal to accept me pushed me away, and the guilt of his actions caused me to tailspin into the abyss. Thankfully, he’s a cruel, coldhearted bastard who takes enjoyment in others’ misery, and after a year of coaxing me, I finally relented and agreed to have “the whore” moved back into the auction house “where she belonged.”
Our father claps his hands together, and I refrain from wanting to leap across the table and throat-punch him. Not with so much at stake. “I’m relieved you’ve finally come to your senses, Azrael.”
I lift my glass with an equal expression.
“Tell me.” He leans forward. “Is her cunt still tight?” I feel my body pale, and in return, it’s replaced with a rampant jealousy.
“Bet she hasn’t let him near her, am I right?” Czar adds, and again, I’m thankful for my brother stepping in to add to the crafted story.
Our father clucks his tongue. “Fucking take it, then!” He slams his fist down on the table, and it’s ridiculous how quickly he can go from happy to angry. The man really has no control over his emotions at all. The redness of his face seems to deepen somehow, and I wonder when he burns in hell if his face will flare the same shade. Will mine too?
“I might take it tonight. Force her to see the error of her ways,” I state.
A loud, rumbustious laugh erupts from him. “Yes. Yes. I have the first of the latest shipment arriving too.” His eyes dance with jest, and I curl my lip into a knowing smirk. Theonly thing that keeps me sane as he discusses the abuse of children like they’re cattle is the thought of what tonight will really bring.
I was named after a devil, and tonight, I will rain down hell on our empire.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Azrael
The call comes just as I expected, and I don’t so much as glance in Jensen’s direction; instead, I peer ahead at the girl on stage who is strung out. How the fuck anyone can find this enticing is beyond me. She’s no clue who she is, let alone where she is, and I guess that’s a small blessing, given her circumstances.
Jensen clears his throat. “Sir?” he queries with urgency in his tone.
I don’t turn to give him my attention, choosing to take another swig of my Scotch. I then swill it around the glass before responding. “Hmm?”
“Sir, we have an issue at Lexis.”
My father’s and my head turn in his direction. Lexis is our fight club; the same club Czar is entertaining a fight tonight. The one I orchestrated with the help of my new allies. I just wish I could have let my brother in on the plan, but he would have tried to help me, and I couldn’t risk thathappening. He’s needed here because he was born to be so much more than the spare.
“Go deal with it.” My father waves in his direction. So fucking predictably.
“Am I required?” I ask with boredom.
“No!” my father snaps. “You’re needed here.” He means for me to supposedly fuck Hevan to show I’m just like him. No doubt he’s already checked with his men for her arrival, and they will have confirmed she’s in his room, ready and waiting.
Hell, they’ve probably already abused her, and while I should experience guilt, I find nothing but satisfaction.
He’s not even asked if Czar is okay or if he needs backup. Nope, all the sick bastard is bothered about is his cock, and let’s not forget the cash, that too. He’d rather his son struggle than him miss out on getting his sick rocks off.
“Go. Azrael is taking a night off, isn’t that right, son?”
Son?
It’s the first time in a long time he’s referred to me as that, and tonight of all nights for him to call me it is bittersweet. As a child, I wanted a sign from him to acknowledge me on a grander scale, for him to show I meant more to him than purely being his heir, more to him than his men and the likes of Vector. But I gave up on that notion the night I became a made man, and not once have I ever wanted to hear the words since.
