Pressed against Zion, holding on to him like a lifeline, I absorbed his presence, imagining it as an anchor tethering me to the milk-hued floor.
This kill wasn’t mine.
So I did nothing besides keep my mouth shut. My father did not deserve a reply.
“After your good-for-nothing mother ran away and gave birth to you outside our wall, I thought both of you had perished. But once I had learned of you becoming a leader, like your father, I had high hopes for you, Gedeon.” The Head of Ilasall traced the rim of his glass. “Now, I know it was a mistake.” He took a sip, and I wished I was free to smash the crystal in his face. “But at least one of my children knows the right way.”
“You mean Ezra.” I stated the obvious conclusion. Not that I considered him or Peter my family. Blood was not the thing that forged family ties.
“I see you have met your brother. How is he doing, by the way? I haven’t seen him since we dropped him at the curb for your people to pick up. When was it?” My father ran a hand through his blond hair, a stark contrast to the black curls my mother had sported. “Something like two years ago, I believe.”
Almost. Eighteen months in total.
I was going to make Ezra pay for each day he had pretended to be a friend, burrowed his way into our inner circle, all the while, he relayed our secrets back to Ilasall.
“He escaped.” There was no point in embellishing the matters. “Don’t tell me— You didn’t know that?” I shook my head. “You should have better control of your snakes,Father.”
Peter’s chuckle pierced me like thorns of a poisonous bush. “You didn’t break his legs? Oh, I have much to teach you.” He tilted his glass toward me. “Heed my advice: you cannot lead without discipline.”
“I’m aware.” Untangling myself from Zion, I glanced at the door and back to him—a silent question.
He dipped his chin in confirmation—he would guard the only entrance and exit point besides the elevator.
Marching to the bar my father lingered at, I ignored how I left bloody footprints on the immaculate floor, the squelching a song accompanying my journey. “It’s part of my plan.”
“And what exactly does your strategy entail?” The Head of Ilasall gestured at the collection of crystal bottles. “Help yourself.”
“To teach you a lesson.” Selecting the safest option, I poured myself a glass of the same drink my father was savoring. “You see, I have a fascination with bones. But I would rather keep my hands clean tonight. I have more than enough of your men’s blood on me already.” Dunking my forefinger into the chilled liquid, I swirled the golden drink, ridding myself of death’s fluids. “So how does Zion sawing your arm off and me using it to knock you out sound?”
“I like it,” Kali piped in, balancing her knife on two fingers. “He wouldn’t be able to wail like a baby then.”
“You think you can touch him?” Livana placed her empty glass in the silver sink, the metal spotless, sparkling even in the lack of sunlight. “You can’t do shit, you despicable leech. You have no power here.” Her screeching leaked disdain. Although she was much shorter than Kali, that didn’t stop her from looking down her nose. “So gather yourtrash”—the green-banded woman waved at me and Zion—“and get the fuck out. This playground isn’t for kids.”
I flicked the wetness off my forefinger. Surprise, surprise, my father’s taste in women spun solely about their looks. The vetting process definitely didn’t involve inspection of their brains—containing grey matter or not.
In one smooth glide, Kali hopped off the kitchen island. “Did you just call my mentrash?”
My men.
I had to suppress a rumbling groan about to rise from my throat.
Leaning against the counter, Livana folded her arms, her breasts spilling out from the tight bodice of her white dress. “Be glad I didn’t point out what they actually are—worms that belong underground.”
Her insult bounced off me like a rubber ball, but Peter’s jaw flexed as he observed Kali sauntering around the kitchen island and coming to a stop at the corner.
As one could expect, my father didn’t know where to direct his attention. For example, to the blade peeking out of Zion’s fist as he guarded the entrance.
“So if they’re parasites, then what am I?” Kali asked so sweetly, it masked the venom boiling in her words.
“A cunt not worth breeding,” Livana scoffed. “A?—”
A strike of steel silenced her. One second, she was standing, and the next, her body fell.
Her head hit the floor, adorned with a black rubber handle peeking out of her left eye socket. Bodily fluids trickled down her face, her blood as crimson as her lipstick and nails.
My core spasmed. Ruthlessness rippled in the air around Zion—a bubble of viciousness. Madness had invaded him through the deep gash opening his cheek to the elements.
I wanted to join that insanity on the front lines, slither under his skin, wear him, ravage him until he forgot who he was.
