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“No, Matthew. You stopped playing that role long ago and you became it.”
“I’m not crazy!” he roars, flailing his arms wildly, not really doing himself any favors with that unhinged reaction. “I know what I’m doing! Look around! You’re beat.”
He lashes out with his boot, aiming for my gut.
I bring my arm down in an instinctive move to deflect the blow.
It works, but in my current state, it costs me my balance. As I stumble, one of my knees hitting the floor, he’s there with his blade to my throat, forcing my head back.
“It’s over, almighty Don. This is where you fall. It’s time for my reign now.”
Over my dead body.
He fists his hand in my tactical jacket, jerking me against him, the blade grazing the skin of my throat. His eyes flash with rage when it gets no discernible reaction from me. “You always thought you were better than me, always steps ahead. You see where that arrogance has led you?”
“It’s the other way around,” I seethe.
He laughs. “You’re delusional.” He releases my tactical jacket roughly and runs his fingers over the blade reverentially. “I was going to allow you some last words, but I changed my mind. I want my voice to be the last thing you hear, to haunt you in the afterlife.”
“Never happening.”
He grabs a fistful of my hair and jerks my head back painfully, snarling, “All your foolish codes have brought you to this point. All that bull about loyalty and honor. It’s handicapped you. It’s nothing but weakness! Your friends are about to die any moment now, then you and the last of your men. To come at me to protect that boy, King, is the worst move you’ve ever made. All for sentimentality. Loyalty is weakness! Where’s the reward in it? The payoff?”
“Here,” a voice rumbles from behind Priest, his body blocking my view.
Before he can even attempt to react, a shot is fired, a bullet plunging into his chest.
He grunts and falls back, his blade jarring from his grasp and clattering to the ground. It’s clear the heavy-duty Kevlar of his tactical gear has absorbed a great deal of the impact, preventing it from burrowing into his flesh and driving into his heart. But it’s still enough to severely compromise him, as he reels against the shelves, gasping for breath.
I look up into the eyes of none other than Julian King.
Dressed all in black, sporting a moto leather jacket, a V-neck tee and cargo pants, he looks a world away from the clean-cut CEO image he usually projects. Except for the fact that he’s still clad in luxurious brands. Somehow, even still in designer gear, that menacing edge of his gives off a dangerous and deadly disposition. Just what is required for this situation. The Glock aimed at Priest is really adding to the overall image.
His shoulder-length wavy black hair is windswept and out of place, telling me he rushed down here to assist me. His deep-blue eyes flick to mine, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“I figured you could use a hand.”
“Your timing is impeccable.” He gives me a hand-up and I stagger back to my feet, wiping the blood on my throat with the back of my glove. “I’d rather you hadn’t endangered your life by involving yourself in this, though.”
“He killed my parents, he’s threatening a friend of mine, I’m involved,” he says resolutely.
“Your father was a weak man,” Priest croaks out.
Julian spins then and stalks up to Priest. He slams him against the shelves, making them rattle at the bone-jarring impact. “Say that again,” he seethes.
“Thomas King was a weak, pathetic excuse for a man,” Priest hisses back. His eyes flash and he yells irately, “You should’ve been the same way, King! You screwed up my plans! You screwed up everything!”
“And it’s been an absolute pleasure,” Julian growls.
Priest glares at him for a moment, before his expression shifts on a dime once again, just like his moods, the true mark of a madman indeed. A sadistic grin spreads over his face. “You do have one thing in common.”
Julian’s eyes narrow.
Priest smirks. “Your loyalties are about to cost you everything.”
In the next beat, I see the glint of another blade.
“Julian!”
