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I take the stairs slowly because my ribs ache with each step I take. The crazy fucker probably bruised some of them.
I barge into said asshole’s office without knocking. Because fuck him and his crazy ass.
When we were teens and I decided to fight him, everyone told me not to challenge the “King.” That it was stupid and reckless and I’d get my ass whipped.
But I did. The best way to become a king is to slaughter one.
And I was out to do just that.
Yes, he used me as a punching bag the first few times, but I didn’t give up until the king himself fell at my feet.
Until I became his worst friend and best enemy.
And right now, it feels like we’re back to those times where he’s the king and I’m out for his throne.
He’s sitting in the chair at his window that overlooks the front pool. This is probably where he was when I was kissing Gwyneth earlier and decided to use his fists.
But now, he doesn’t look like he wants to touch me, because he has a gun in his hand.
“That’s smarter,” I say, locking the door behind me so Gwyneth doesn’t have the chance to come in. “Better than your clear jealousy of my looks that you tried to ruin.”
“Explain yourself before I fucking kill you.”
I might have lied to Gwyneth just now. I don’t think I’ll be fine.
33
Kingsley
People spend their entire lives avoiding crime—or try to.
Not me.
I knew that I’d do it one day. That at some point, the crazy genes, as my father and his bitch of wife called them, would catch up to me and I’d snap.
That’s why I chose law. It definitely wasn’t out of a warped sense of justice. I just had to learn law to get around it and apply self-restraint so that I didn’t end up murdering someone accidentally.
Or intentionally.
It’s been easier with Gwen around, because I have someone to focus on, someone not to get caught for. I had to raise her, to be the parent my own parents weren’t. I had to be the person who protected her from the world.
But I couldn’t protect her from my motherfucking friend.
Ex-friendbecause I’m going to blow his brains out in about five minutes.
I always knew I’d kill. I just didn’t know it’d be the man I considered a fucking brother.
Nate and I didn’t start our friendship the conventional way. We were rivals for way too long, then we saw similar traits in each other. So for the sake of our ambitions, we decided to put our differences aside and partner up.
And with time, I realized he was the only person I could call a friend.
Not anymore, though. Because he’s going to die.
Said asshole flops onto the chair in front of my desk, running a hand over his battered face—the face I should’ve punched a few more times and erased its expression. He dares to sigh as if he’s the wronged one, as if he’s the one who was stabbed in the fucking back.
He places both his elbows on his knees and leans his chin on the backs of his hand. “I know you’re upset—”
“Upset?” I storm in front of him and tighten my hold on the gun. “Try enraged. Try fucking murderous. That girl is my daughter, my flesh and blood, my fucking second chance at life. And I left for one second, one fucking second, and you swooped in and ruined her. She’s become a stranger who stands up to me when she never has before.”
