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A ripple goes through the air as realization dawns on Cade’s face… realization about what, I don’t know.
“All this time, it was you.”
“It was.” Lincoln’s face is a stone mask, giving nothing away. My mind is running a hundred miles a minute, trying to place the missing pieces of this puzzle.
“No. No! It can’t be… why? Why the fuck would you do that?” Cade shrieks, jamming his fingers into his hair and tugging sharply. “I… I…”
“I let you believe what you wanted, Son.”
“Don’t call me that. Don’t you dare fucking call me that. I did all this…” His eyes flick over to me. “For him. I did it for him and he’s—"
“Gone, Cade. Your father is gone.”
“No… NO.” He grabs a nearby candelabra and launches it across the room. It crashes against the wall and clatters to the ground.
“Look,” Lincoln approaches his nephew with his hands held in a non-threatening manner, “I know you’re upset, but we want the same thing, Son. We want—"
Cade rips a gun out of the waistband of his jeans and presses it to Lincoln’s temple.
“Easy.” Surprise and fear flicker across Lincoln’s face. “You don’t want to do something you’ll regret. I helped you, remember? I fed you the information you needed.”
“You played me,” Cade grits out, staring at his uncle with fiery anger.
“No, I didn’t. Think about it… did I lie? Did I ever say I was Gregory?” Cade falters for a second, but Lincoln remains eerily calm. “I didn’t play you, Cade. I just withheld certain facts because I needed Q to believe you were acting alone. I needed them to turn to me in their hour of need. I needed you, Son.”
“Y-you did?” The raw vulnerability in Cade’s voice doesn’t surprise me. He’s a kid again. A kid molded by cruel words and physical abuse. A kid in desperate need of his father’s validation.
“You don’t want to do this.” Lincoln slides his hand over Cade’s and gently eases the gun away. “You truly are your father’s son.” A flicker of emotion crosses his expression. “And together we can be strong. Powerful. We can make them pay.”
“He’s lying,” I cry. “Think about it, Cade. He doesn’t want to help you, he wants to use you. He didn’t kill my father, you did…you did.”
Cade’s eyes snap to mine, narrowing with suspicion.
“Think about it. Your father has been dead for years. Where was your uncle then, huh? He doesn’t care about you, he doesn’t—"
“Shut her up, Son. Now.”
He blows toward me like a storm, dark and unforgiving. My eyes home in on the gun, my breath lodged in my throat.
“Cade, you don’t want to do this.” Tears streak down my cheeks. “He’s using you… just like your father did. You’re not him, Cade. You are not your father.” My chest heaves as his hand shoots out and grabs a fistful of my hair. A pained cry spills from my cheeks as he wrenches me up, and my ankle smarts from the pressure.
“Cade, please…” He clicks off the safety, pressing the barrel of the gun against my temple. I feel like I’m drowning, my lungs burning and gasping for breath.
“Do it, Son,” Lincoln orders. “Before they get here.”
A tiny seed of hope blossoms in my chest. Quinctus are coming, they have to be. Bexley will come… he’ll come and save me.
“Do it,” Lincoln snaps.
“Cade, please.” I clutch his hoodie, staring right into his eyes. “You don’t want to do this. I am not my father, just like you’re not yours. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of this. Please…”
His eyes flash with something as he hesitates, glancing between me and his uncle and back again.
“You can’t trust him.” My voice cracks as Cade’s grip on my hair doesn’t falter. I may not understand Lincoln Kingsley’s motivation, but I understand these men. Powerful men driven by greed and money and dark deeds. I don’t trust Quinctus, and I definitely don’t trust Lincoln.
“I know Q had your father killed… but this isn’t the way, Cade… this isn’t—"
“Lincoln.” Phillip Cargill steps into the chamber, his hard glare immediately flitting to me and Cade. “What is this?”
