Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
“You will this time, because that image can damage your best friend, and on top of that, you know you don’t want to be the one to tell him just how vile his own father is.” He was right. I didn’t. Lucan Vitiosis was a monster. One that no one wanted an issue with. He trained his baby monster perfectly, though. I was almost certain Brantley was as fucked as his father, but when I thought of the photo I just saw, maybe there’s a reason why he was the way he was. But who was the girl in the photo with him? She seemed young. Naive. Innocent.
“Talk.” I waved my curtain out of the way to look down onto the driveway, checking for any movement.
“Ever heard of The Brothers of Kiznitch?”
I paled. “Which one are you?”
“Kyrin. Nero.”
“Ahhh,” I tsked, moving across the room to sit on the sofa that was tucked in the corner. I rested my ankle over my knee. That whiskey looked good right about now. I checked the time on my Rolex. Fuck. It was only ten a.m. “Why are you calling me?”
“I have a sister.”
“I’m sorry for you. Must be horrible.” The words bounced around the walls of my cold, dead house. Being the youngest brother of one was fun until our parents died and it was just he and I. The only reason why we were allowed to live on with no guardians was because—well—we’re The Elite Kings. We had as much money as we did power. Untouchable.
“I just whacked off a guy who raped her tonight.”
“Congrats. How’d you do it? Make it interesting?”
“Fuck you.”
“Mmmm, wouldn’t you…” I reached for the whiskey anyway because this conversation could get interesting fast.
“No, I wouldn’t. Look, I was told that you’re the person to call if I needed extra protection in New York.”
I gazed off into the distance. “I can’t imagine a Brother of Kiznitch, son of The Four Fathers, needing protection.”
“Not for me. For my sister.”
“She hot?”
“Motherfucker, if you so much as lay a single fucking finger on her, I will chop it off. King or not.”
I rolled my eyes again, sipping on my drink. I waited until the liquid burned the hairs on my throat before I answered. “Fine. Send me her school details. Anything I should know? Anything you want me to do?”
“Yeah,” Kyrin added. “I want you to make sure she doesn’t know you’re watching her. As you know, I can’t be on US soil all the time. I need someone here to watch her.”
“Done.”
I sat back in my chair after hanging up with him, a smile on my face. “Mmm, this could be fun.” But even as the thoughts passed through my mind, I knew I wouldn’t.
I wouldn’t fuck with her, and it wasn’t just because of Brantley’s secret he was hiding in his house that he hadn’t told us about. It was because—well, fuck, I didn’t even know…
The music pumps through the sound system and pulses directly into my blood, like an IV line connecting me to the artist. I take the bottle of Grey Goose off Cartier, moving onto the stage.
“Okay!” I wave it around, pointing to all The Dolls who are watching Cartier, Saskia, Maya, and me.
I place the bottle onto the ground. “Perse has agreed to pole dancing.”
“Good!” Wolf adds. “That’s something we all can do.”
“And enjoy,” Jesenia perks in, moving her body to the sound. The alcohol is warming me from the inside out, and suddenly, two days doesn’t seem so far away. Not at all. This was a great idea.
My phone starts vibrating in my hand and I wave at them to hop on the stage. “Make up some shit as you go. I’ll figure out the rest.” I step backward to the girls, falling onto one of the chairs and opening my notifications. Instagram pops up, and I swipe to see my profile. I haven’t looked at it much lately. What with all that has been going on, I’ve struggled to find any fucks to give for this app.
Followers 734.8k Following 11
I sigh, massaging my head. “What does Instagram mean?”
“Means they like you,” Maya says, handing me a half-smoked joint.
I take the brown smoke from her, bringing it to my lips. “Well, they’re a terrible judge of character.”
“Baby girl, your character is not why they follow you…” Saskia laughs, holding her belly.
“Who gave her weed?” Cartier asks, rolling her eyes. “It makes her stupid.”
“Mmmm,” Sass sings, one arm over her belly and the other over her eyes. “I don’t know. I feel really good right now.”
Maya is on her phone, flicking through her home page when she stops, scrolls back up, and pauses.
I look down at what she’s looking at and I wish I hadn’t. It feels as though an iron fist has reached through my chest and ripped out my heart and thrown it to the ground. “What the fuck.”