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I grab Lorenzo by the scruff of his neck. “Do you know what Blackthornes used to do when there was a mutiny? They’d find the person involved and feed him his own tongue. They’d also break a limb or two just to make sure the point was made.”
A ripple of unease moves through the crowd.
Lorenzo pales. “We need someone strong and focused and dedicated to us. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
I grip him tighter, something low and unpleasant unfurling in the center of my stomach. “Is that so?”
Lorenzo looks over at the others and then back at me. “This is why we have a voting system in place. You said it yourself.”
I bare my teeth at Lorenzo. “Don’t lecture me about a system that I put into place. There’s no room in our ranks for a rat who’ll lead the others to their death.”
Unfortunately, I know why Lorenzo is bringing up the vote. I put it into effect years ago to ensure that no Blackthorne head had too much power over the rest, including myself.
Especially myself.
I’ve been dancing too close to the sun for too long, and I’ve seen what power does to people and how it strips away their very sense of self, turning them into a vessel for greed and malice.
I have no intention of turning into another Blackthorne cautionary tale or an urban legend whispered about in the dead of night. Lorenzo isn’t wrong to point this out to me, but I still want to slam his face into the nearest wall.
It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to throw him onto the floor and pummel him into a pulp. I imagine myself rounding on everyone else in this room and taking them on one by one, but I know it isn’t going to do me any good.
As much as I hate to admit it, they aren’t wrong to demand answers. Nor are they wrong to want someone else at the helm.
Since meeting Isabella, the empire hasn’t had my full attention, and I’ve known it for a while, but letting go has never been easy for me. Even when I know it’s the right thing to do.
Regardless of whether or not I’ve been fully accepted as one of their own, the Blackthornes are my family, the only people I want to ally myself with.
After giving Lorenzo a firm shake, I release him, and he stumbles back in surprise. He’s so startled that he collides with a group of men in the back, and a murmur of confusion rises through the room. I shove one hand into my pocket, and the other makes a vague hand gesture.
“The voting system was put into place for a reason,” I say in a strange voice. “If anyone invokes it, it shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
Silence stretches over the room.
“After the truce has gone into effect, and our enemies fall into line once and for all, there will be a vote,” I add, with another quick look around the room. “Remember that the vote has to be unanimous, or it doesn’t go into effect.”
Several startled looks are exchanged. Lorenzo is still sputtering in the background, but I ignore him.
When no one says anything, I pull my jacket on and make a beeline for the door. It takes Ernesto and Tristan a few moments to catch up to me. I wrench the car door open, settle into the back, and count backward from ten. There’s still a low thrumming in my ears when Ernesto twists to back out of the alley. As soon as he merges onto the main road, he adjusts himself and places both hands on the wheel.
Tristan turns to look at me. “What was that?”
“I should ask you the same fucking thing. You didn’t even have the decency to tell me the truth?”
Tristan’s jaw tightens. “I knew they were discussing a vote, but I didn’t think they were going to go through with it. With everything else happening, I thought it would be better not to bother you with this.”
I press my lips together and give Tristan a pointed look.
Tristan runs a hand over his face, and his face falls. “We’ll figure something out. Ernesto and I won’t vote to have you removed. I’m sure I can convince Paul—”
I hold a hand up. “That’s not how this works. You need to do what’s best for the family.”
Tristan drops his hand, and his eyes widen. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” My voice is calm and even, and I can hardly believe it.
But Tristan and I both know the truth about where my loyalties are, and I can’t sit there and pretend otherwise. Not with a daughter on the way. In a few months, Isabella and I are going to be married, and shortly after she gives birth, I know the last of my defenses will melt away.
As will any pretense that I am still fit to lead the Blackthornes. Realizing that I no longer am doesn’t make me as angry as I thought it would.
