He gets out of the car and I follow, shutting the door behind me. Walking around to the front of the car, the bright headlights beam up toward the log cabin.
Brantley steps up beside me as we both watch the front door. “Bishop may be the king of the Kings, but he forgets there’s a higher power than him. His dad.”
I know this already, as I’m sure Bishop knows this too. Hector smiles at Brantley and pats him on the shoulder. “Good boy.” Then I watch as he walks into the cabin.
“Brantley,” I whisper. “What the fuck is going on here?”
He doesn’t answer. He simply gestures toward the door, but it’s not in an insolent way. His jaw is clenched, and there’s fire in his eyes. He’s not happy; actually, fuck that—he’s pissed.
“I believe you already know who this is.” Brantley puts a cigarette into his mouth and lights it, just as Hector steps down the cabin steps with—
I gasp, my legs turn to jelly, and my stomach recoils, breakfast threatening to come up.
Brantley’s lip curls. “Daddy dearest, AKA—Lucan Vitiosus.” Voices come in and out, my head pounding as memories start flooding back. All the hard work over the years I put into blocking them out doesn’t mean shit now, because the wall hasn’t just dropped. I look up, my eyes connecting with my childhood abuser, and that wall shatters to a million pieces. There’s no rebuilding that.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I turn around and go to run, only someone steps in front of me, blocking me from going further, and I fall flat on my ass. That person isn’t Brantley, because I see Black Converse shoes and tight yoga pants. I bring my eyes up to the small torso and frame until I’m met with one of the most exotic-looking girls I have ever seen in my entire life. Her black hair floats effortlessly and naturally down over her chest, her eyes curve in almonds, and her skin holds a natural golden tint. She’s stunning in an obvious way. The kind of way that she’d gain attention anywhere she goes no matter what she’s wearing. All that beauty gets washed out when she opens her mouth.
“You’re so much prettier in photos.” She tilts her head, and I stand to my feet, brushing off the dirt from my butt.
“Who the fuck are you?” I whisper out, I meant it to be harsher than it came out, but with tears pouring down my cheeks, I’m not in a very badass state right now.
Hector appears beside me and tsks. “Madison, play nice with Khales. She’s a good little puppet.”
I freeze. All thought processes mute, and my skin prickles to life. Khales?
I say the first thing that comes up in my head. “I thought you were dead.”
She laughs, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Naw, honey, there’s so much”—she steps toward me and presses her finger to the tip of my nose—“you just don’t know.”
I step backward, squaring my shoulders. Is she intimating? Yes. But I’ve grown accustomed to being around a pack of wolves, so instead of running from them, I learned how to play with them. If she thinks I’m going to roll over and submit to her ways, she’s deluded. Even if I’m feeling emotional about coming face-to-face with Lucan, I won’t bow to her. “I don’t doubt that at all, but why am I here?” I look to Hector. “Where is your son?”
Hector puts a cigar in his mouth. “He’s not here.” He lights the tip of the cigar and rolls it around in his mouth. The silence between all of us borders on awkward, so I turn around to focus all of my attention on Hector.
“And what exactly do you want with me? And why is she alive? Does Bishop know? Does anyone know? Why bring him out?” I point toward Lucan, the mere sight of him making my head spin and my hand itch. I think I’ve passed the shocked phase. I can feel myself slowly brewing, my anger like a swimming pool of lava at the bottom of a volcano, ready to erupt.
I look back to Khales. “And who are you, by the way?”
Hector shakes his head. “That’s not important right now. What’s important is this—”
“No.” The word is instant and automatic.
“Oh?” Hector’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I see you’ve grown a little backbone now that you’re not hiding behind my son.”
I tilt my head and watch as the gray cloud of smoke floats into the dark night. “I never hid behind your son. He shielded me. There’s a difference.”
Hector leans back onto the car, and I step back a little so I can see both him, Khales, Brantley, and Lucan in my peripheral vision. “And anyway,” I add, shooting a glare at Brantley, who is standing on the other side of the car. “Loyalty and all that—right, Brantley?”
“You don’t know shit about loyalty,” Khales murmurs, stepping up to me, chest-to-chest. I can feel her breathing labor as she looks down her nose at me.
I stand up straighter and match her stare. I don’t know who I’m kidding; I’ve never been in a fight before, but I won’t let someone hit me and get away with it. “You don’t know shit about the shit I know, Khales, so step the fuck back.”
“Okay, girls.” Brantley grins, stepping between the two of us. “As much as this is getting my dick hard, we need to stay focused.”
“You’re disgusting,” I mutter to Brantley, eyeing him up and down. I don’t know what he’s playing at or why he’s here. I’m not even 100 percent sure if he’s on our side anymore.
“One question,” I state, looking directly at Brantley. “Your birthday party, when we were little….”
Brantley’s face drops. Hector remains quiet, watching me carefully.
“What of it?” Brantley asks, folding his arms in front of himself.
“What happened that day?” I whisper, leaning against the car. “I mean, I remember vague parts, but
