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“What’s our plan ifhe doesn’t take the bait?” I called out to my father’s retreating form as he exited the car before me.
The warm summer night enveloped me like a cocoon as I escaped the limo’s AC. I walked past our driver, who held open the door for me. The servant didn’t meet my gaze—it was forbidden in our household. I didn’t even know his name, but he’d been driving us for as long as I could remember, helping to keep my identity hidden.
My father paused on the driveway, lighting up a cigarette before passing the embossed case to my brother. “We’ll cross that bridge should your allure fail.”
The caustic smoke drifted over me, begging me to suck at the poisonous tip. But I’d given up smoking; Drakos didn’t like it. “Shouldn’t we have a plan in place?” I insisted, desperate to show my worth. “Père, I have other ideas. Should this fail, we can still beat Drakos—”
“Fail?” My father flicked his cigarette. “Fail?” His volume rose.
“Père, it’s strategy!” I gasped as my father advanced. Shit, I’d done it now. In three steps, he was on me, hand raised. I braced myself for the strike. I knew better than to anger him, to step out of line.
But this time my father dropped his hand and didn’t strike. It was a first. A wave of concern laced through me. He always punished me when I misbehaved. It was why I was so careful to mold myself as the perfect soldier. Trying always to do the right thing—just like Claude. My big brothernevermessed up enough to incur any paternal wrath. I tried so hard to be like him.
“No, I’ll not mark your pretty face,” my father muttered, retreating with his lip curled in disgust. “It’s our best card right now.”
From the side, I caught movement, but I wasn’t able to dodge the blow. My brother rammed his fist into my side. The breath left my body in a wheeze. I staggered, falling onto the gravel.
“No more of your disrespect,” Claude said, bottom lip sticking out to give his speech the gummy, garbled effect it always had.
I drew in a painful breath and addressed my father as I came to my feet again, breathing hard. “I mean no disrespect, père. My only goal is to see us succeed!” I pleaded.
“Then seduce the butcher.” My father flicked his cigarette into the gravel, not bothering to step on it to ensure it was extinguished.
As the head of our household and his heir walked into the house, I looked longingly at the still-lit death stick. I wanted it, craved it with every fiber of my being. Looking to the moon, which hung heavy on the horizon, I breathed through the pain and the torment of denying myself the comfort of a smoke.
I won’t fail you, père. Someday, when I was wearing black and we had our enemy’s kingdom safely folded into ours, my father would see me. He would know I was far smarter than my brother. Future displays of disobedience would be overlooked, because while I could never be the perfect child, like Claude, I would be the brains that brought our family wealth, power, and vengeance—all the things my brother never could. And only if I kept my hands clean when I took the butcher’s life. Because the terrible truth was, my father would willingly sacrifice me as a murderess if it accomplishedhisgoals. He’d never said as much, but the truth was in his adoration for my brother and not me. But I could do it. I could cause an accident so someone else took the fall. I would walk away from this and claim my place in this family.
“You’ll see, père. You’ll see,” I quietly vowed. With iron-clad will-power, I turned away from the cigarette.
Chapter 3 – Constantine
Those midnight eyeshaunted me as I exited Club Black and walked toward my town car flanked by Ralph, my personal body-guard. Philip, my driver, moved from where he lounged against the car, pretending to read. A quick draw, he was one of my most valuable soldiers.
Philip opened the back door, and I slid into the cool interior. Ralph rode shotgun. The contract was now securely in a zip lock bag, the paper never having made contact with my skin. Being paranoid had kept me alive, and Gustave Beaumont had always wanted me dead up until tonight.
