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I hadn’t heard English in so very long.
Efendim echoed over and over. The Turkish word for my lord or master.
I was no longer a refugee.
I was a lord.
And my father was the boss. The patron of these cutthroat dealers and traffickers, killers and criminals. But also in the room were members of parliament. Two men who’d risen up the ranks thanks to Cem lobbying their parties and buying their souls in the process.
Cem watched us closely.
Watched his generals pay homage to the man who would lead them if he died.
He watched me.
My skin prickled, and more fear percolated in my belly.
I wouldn’t give him any reason to put me back down there. To turn on that machine again. To give me another lesson I might not survive.
“I accept your knife, your death, and your loyalty,” I said firmly. “We are bonded until the grave.”
My mouth worked.
My tongue formed Turkish words.
And another general came to swear his allegiance.
I accepted his pledge. I gave one of my own.
I repeated the ceremony until the twelve men in the room had all given me their lives and loyalty, and Cem nodded silently in approval.
Only once everyone had lined up below our dais did Cem come toward me, place his hand over mine on my cane, and say to his generals, “My son, my lion. I call to each of you to teach Aslan how my empire runs. His education will begin in earnest with every operation from the lowest of drug runs to the most expensive female trade. He will learn the languages of politics, he will become fluent in the darkness where we hide our other wares, and through your guidance, you will inherit a worthy leader for when I am gone.”
Cem faced me, smiled, and kissed my freshly shaven cheek.
He’d told me about this part.
He’d schooled me on what was expected between the current boss and the newly crowned master.
I held out my left hand.
Taking a delicate jewelled knife from his breast suit pocket, Cem sliced my palm from thumb to pinkie.
Blood welled.
Dark and ruby.
But I didn’t flinch.
I barely even felt the pain.
It was nothing to what I’d learned to endure.
Without a word, Cem handed the pretty dagger to me. Shifting as best I could and resting my lionhead carved cane against my thigh, I took his offered hand and cut him with the exact same slice.
His nostrils flared.
He sucked in a breath.
