King of Diamonds.
“Fucking hell,” I swore under my breath.
That name still meant so much to me, but now the nickname felt like a cage, trapping my worst habits and refusing to let them go. Even if Delilah was full of shit, even if her words were wrong, they were right at this very moment. I had proved that by missing dinner tonight and prioritizing retaliation.
I got sucked into battle, and I had lost not by the final score, but simply by playing.
Fuck.
Was this who I wanted to be? A year ago, yes. Even six months ago, yes.
But truly, was there anything more pitiful than a man past a certain age still holding onto petty squabbles, unable to do anything more than cast vengeance on others? A man hardened in his twenties and thirties was to be feared. A man hardened and powerful in his forties was still feared, but with doubts about what would happen to him. A man hardened in his fifties was starting to get sad, and beyond that, it was outright sad.
And if there was one thing I would absolutely not be, it was sad. I might never lose the hard edge to me, the part of me that would protect Delilah and my family at any and all costs, but I would never, ever, fuckingeverbecome sad.
If that meant not playing the game with the Morrils at some point… well, no one got out of life without making some terrible fallout.
“Yo, Adrian!”
I turned suddenly to the unexpected voice of Dante, trailed by Lucas. He had his sleeves rolled up and a scowl on his face, as if looking for an excuse to punch someone.
“The fuck is going on with you?” Dante said. “You look like someone robbed your precious cufflinks.”
“Funny, Dante,” I sneered. Actually, you know what was funny?
The only brother I would not have minded being there right now was Cassius. He was the only one who had an inkling of what I was experiencing. Dante and Lucas could just go fuck off.
“He’s not lying,” Lucas said. “You look terrible, Adrian.”
“What of it?” I said, waving a hand. “Are we not allowed to have bad days? I’ve been trying to figure out what the fuck to do with the Morrils. Remember? That whole shit this afternoon? I’m trying to do my job.”
“I’m sure that explains why no one’s been able to reach you for the last few hours,” Dante said, spitting on the ground.
He did that knowing I would get pissed off. I despised anything that made my penthouse dirtier, spit included. I glared at him. He shrugged, as if to say, “Do something about it,” and I almost rolled up my sleeves before holding back.
Did Delilah think I could not change? How about I could change with my brother?
I turned back to the Strip, drawing a loud groan from Dante.
“I’m not going to fucking pry into what woman has your panties in a twist,” he said. “What I am going to say is what we’ve so fucking told each other. Deliberation works only to the point that you don’t do something self-defeating. Well, we’ve thought well past that point. Let’s take some fucking action. Let’s go hit the Morrils.”
“Letus?” I said. “Don’t we have people we can hire? And don’t you dare fucking say the Black Reapers. Do that on your own time.”
Dante seethed at those words. If he drunkenly confided in me that he had a greater interest in holding power over the Reapersthan he did in defeating the Morrils, I would have believed it to be a truthful statement.
“We can find people, yes,” Dante said. “But that won’t help you acting like a pussy because of one reporter.”
“Watch your fucking mouth!”
Silence filled the room. Dante did not back down, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.
“One reporter,” I repeated, “is just that. One reporter. She has no bearing on what is to happen. But you, Dante, are being impulsive.”
“Better impulsive than introverted, shut up in your fucking penthouse.”
“Dante is right,” Lucas said. The fuck did he have to say? “Staying up here will only drive you crazier, Adrian. The longer you stay in your head, the less satisfied you will be with your options. And the less satisfied you are with your options, the more likely you are to do something self-destructive.”
Fuck.
