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“Don’t call me that,” I hiss, my lip slightly curling.
“Hey, I’m doing you a favor.”
“Fuck you.”
He laughs, his breath falling over my neck. I can’t hide the disgust; I dry heave, ready to spill my guts all over the road.
“What the fuck is going on?” Hector asks again.
Where is Brantley? This was all a setup. He and Khales are nowhere to be seen. I look around again, as much as I can from the position I’m in, and sure enough, they’re both not where they were a few minutes ago.
Hate.
“First, let me start with this. Silver, do you know much about the last names of these boys here?”
What?
“The hell has that got to do with you and what you did to me all those years ago?”
“I’ll get to that part.” He grins. I can hear it in his sick voice how much he’s getting out of this, and that’s the thing about age. The tone of your voice is one of the last things to change. Therefore, Lucan still has the same voice.
“What are you doing, Lucan?” Hector warns. His tone should be enough to put the fear of God into Lucan, but it doesn’t, because he continues.
“Hector and Bishop Hayes… Hayes meaning ‘The Devil,’” he starts, and just as I open my mouth to ask another question, his hand slams over it, pausing me. “Everyone shut the fuck up and let me finish, or I swear to God I will shoot her.”
He clears his throat, before smugly murmuring, “Now, where was I? Oh yes, the names. Lucan and Brantley Vitiosus. I’ll get to the meanings of the names and the English translations when I’ve finished.” He laughs. Then his lips skim over my earlobe before he whispers, “and you know how theatrical I can get, don’t ya, Silver?”
The first teardrops, followed by anger. Rage.
He continues. “Max, Saint, and Cash Ditio. Phoenix and Chase Divitae. Raguel, Ace, and Eli Rebellis.” He laughs at these last two. My eyes shoot toward Nate, who is now being held back by Chase and Cash. He looks absolutely feral. The lack of light and smudged tears in my eyes make for hard looking, but even if I couldn’t see it, I could sure as fuck feel it.
Lucan carries on. “Nate Malum-Riverside.” Then he laughs, bringing his lips to my ear again.
I shut my eyes, fighting the bile that’s about to spew out of my mouth from not just his proximity, but his touch. “Johan, Hunter, Jase, and Madison Venari.”
I freeze. All life drains from my face.
“You hear that, Silver? You’re adopted… you and that skitzo brother of yours.”
What? More tears spill out of my eyes. This can’t be true. There’s no way. He’s fucking with me. My dad is my dad and my mom was my mom. Lucan is being what he is.
I look at Bishop, who is finally looking directly at me, and I see it. The look. It’s the look he gives me when it’s just us together. His eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are zeroed into mine.
Not only is it true, but he knew.
Sobs wrack through my body, and my knees buckle, but Lucan yanks me back up. “Careful, careful… maybe you can talk with your man here about the meanings of those last names and what they mean in regards to each family’s duty in The Kings, but let me tell you this, Silver,” he whispers so harshly into my ear. “When you know all there is to know about this—they will kill you.”
I don’t care.
I’m adopted. My whole life was a lie. I was wrong. I can’t trust anyone. I can only trust Daemon. Daemon. His face lights up inside my head, but instead of it soothing me, it brings on another set of tears.
“So I’ll make this easier for you and tell you the big firework kicker!” he yells, laughing hysterically. Leaning down, I pause, my heavy breathing the only thing breaking the silence.
“You—”
A gun fires and Lucan screams, his hand loosening from around my mouth as he falls to the ground.
I freeze, static buzzing in my ears from the gunshot.
Pain.
Anger.
Rage.
Rage.
Rage.
Heat rises inside of me as I think over everything. His touch when I was a kid. What he made me do to Brantley. And what he made Brantley do to me as a kid.
“Stop!” I scream, my eyes unblinking and fixed on the car in front of me.
Silence.
I slowly turn around, noticing Bishop is beside me, kneeling down next to Lucan, who is bleeding out on the road.
I look at Lucan, tilting my head. Smiling, I whisper out, “Seeing you in pain soothes my anger.”
Lucan looks at me square in the eye. “I will live in your memories, Silver. Forever.”
Squaring my jaw, I bend down to Bishop’s level, bringing my hand to his boot. I feel up toward where I know he keeps a knife. I feel him freeze, realizing what I’m about to do, but before he can stop me—if he was going to stop me—I unclip the holster and pull out the large hunting knife then slowly raise it into the air. Lucan’s eyes follow it slowly.
