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Arkane gave them both a look of pure fury. “You fucking think I’m my father, Kenny? You think I’ll stay quiet while you keep taking out my family one by one?” His tone made the air in the room turn icy, and for a second, no one moved an inch except for Kenny.

“You’ve no other choice, Arkane.” Kenny smiled, the wrinkles in his thin skin stretching. “You’ve more to lose than us.”

Arkane chuckled, throwing his head back like whatever Kenny said was the funniest thing he had ever heard. “You might have tricked my father, Kenny. But not me.” He smirked, slowly walking over to him. “I know what you showed my father thirteen years ago was only a half-truth.”

For the first time, some of the arrogance fell from Kenny’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Arkane.”

Arkane raised a mocking brow. “Oh, but you do.”

Kenny’s pale green eyes narrowed in anger. “Try to touch me, and there’ll be nothing left of your family. This time, I’ll make sure of that.”

This time? Did that mean he had already tried and failed? Was he talking about September thirteenth?

Arkane chuckled harder, putting away his gun and drawing a serrated knife. “You just proved you’re an idiot, Dear Uncle, if you think I give a fuck about the Alacteon over my own family.” He slowly dragged the knife across Kenny’s jaw while the man remained frozen, but his eyes didn’t show any signs of fear.

Why was that?

“Get the fuck away from my father, Arkane, or I’ll put a bullet in your head.” Killian’s eyes flashed with pure murder. I had no doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot Arkane if he hurt his father.

Arkane didn’t have an ounce of fear in his body as he dragged the knife deeper, drawing blood, and a hiss slipped past Kenny’s cracked lips.

Fury blazed through Killian’s pale blue eyes as he inched to squeeze the trigger, but before he could, Jon dug his gun into Killian’s forehead. “Shoot him, and you die,” he warned like a promise. Killian swore about a hundred curse words under his breath, then, in a huff of frustration, fired a shot in the air, and a crack appeared in the ceiling as debris fell to the floor in a cloud of dust.

“Calm the fuck down,” Kenny reprimanded his son, flicking a sly smile toward Arkane. “The boy doesn’t know he’s making a big mistake.” Even though he tried to appear unbothered, the panicked rise and fall of his chest gave away his nervousness. It was slowly starting to get to him that Arkane was going to keep his promise no matter the consequences.

Arkane leaned forward with interest, digging the pointy end of his knife into Kenny’s throat. “And why would that be? I could kill you right now, and it would be the best decision of my life.”

“Kill me and the White Hand will make sure to end your family,” Kenny promised, a fierce fervor in his voice as he glared at Arkane.

“Not if I kill him myself.” Arkane shrugged and nodded to Jon, who, in the blink of an eye, maneuvered Killian into a chokehold and shoved his gun inside his mouth. The latter’s muffled sounds of rage leaked through as he fought against Jon’s firm hold, who effortlessly kept his stance, not moving an inch.

“Don’t,” Lucien warned with a grin when Killian’s friends tried to make a move to save him. “Unlike him, I won’t hesitate to shoot.” He made a point by pressing the guns harder into their foreheads.

A shrewd chuckle left Kenny’s lips. “Go ahead and kill him.” He waved a dismissive hand. His response had Killian freezing, as the men in the room frowned in confusion.

“You don’t care?” Arkane’s frown deepened as he regarded Kenny’s expression.

“Of course, like I care about a bastard child I picked up from the street.” Kenny grinned, a mad, sinister gleam in his pale eyes. “The real White Hand has been among you all this time, boy. In fact, he grew up with you,” he boasted. “He will end every last one of you Stormholds and make the Twins ours.”

I drew a chilling breath as another biting wind sent shivers down my spine, flitting the skirt of my dress. Arkane froze, caught off guard for the first time since I’d known him. Not just him. I was as well.

Heath Glen, on the other hand, showed no reaction.

It was obvious that both these men were simply playing puppets with Killian, and the real White Hand, the actual traitor, was the one really in charge. Only he was one among the Stormholds. He was poisoning the same family that fed him.

Who could it be? My eyes swept around the room as I carefully watched Jon, Lucien, and even Mikhail. All of them wore a look of genuine shock. That, or they could be great actors. Made me wonder why the traitor was still hiding behind the Stormhold family. It did give him a great advantage, but what was the reason for the betrayal?

Arkane quickly gathered himself and waved a finger toward Jon, who nodded, letting Killian go.

For a second, Killian said nothing. There was nothing in his eyes as he stared at the man whom, not too long ago, he addressed as his dad. “Is it true?” he asked Kenny in a flat tone.

“Yes,” Kenny replied like it was nothing, eyeing him sharply. “Don’t get any ideas, Killian. I still raised you. I fucking fed you and gave you all this. You owe me your life.”

Killian threw his head back with his usual laughter, only it was louder and colder this time. “Fuck you, fuck you,” he spat at Kenny, pointing a furious finger at him. “I fucking built the Covent. My men only answer to you because I told them so. They don’t give two fucks about your high ass. The Covent is mine, and I don’t owe you fuck.”

Kenny bristled. “You dare speak to me like that?” he raged, but stopped when Arkane plunged his knife straight into his arm and turned to Killian.

“Leave then, Killian,” Arkane told him in a composed tone. “I don’t want to kill you.” He paused. “At least not today.”