Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 160578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 803(@200wpm)___ 642(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 803(@200wpm)___ 642(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
“Is that so?” I challenge, brushing off my moment of confusion. What the fuck am I doing? I don’t give a shit about girls, or boys, or fucking anyone. I fuck who I want and don’t give a fuck if I wake up to them dead.
Because I often did.
Very often.
Almost always.
In fact, Vaden ran statistics. Getting fucked by me leaves you with a two percent chance of survival, and that two percent only exists if he finished you off and not me.
So.
Here we are. Standing head-to-head with little Luna Nox while thinking of all the ways I’d love to fuck her ass into a new statistic.
Literally.
When my boot meets the tip of her heels, I lean down with a smirk, the tip of my nose touching hers. “I don’t believe you, Madness.”
She doesn’t cower, her defiance clear when she uses this time to search my face. “Good thing I don’t care.”
“Priest!” Vaden calls out from behind me, breaking the tension igniting between us.
“Saved by the damned—”
She levels me with a glare.
I smirk. “Once again.”
* * *
I trace the borders of the window that looks over the bright streets of Riverside. Once upon a time, this view was a reminder of how much I’ve got to hold, but tonight, it only serves as a reminder of everything I must protect. Not because I have a heart, but because it’s my one purpose.
The Watch Tower is sacred to our generation. Absorbing the light from everything instead of mirroring it, its sharp edges tower through the sky in a blunt reminder of who sits behind the tinted glass. With a modern kitchen and boundless living spaces splayed out with an array of oversized couches, it’s our playground for business. A dimly lit bar hides in the corner, close enough to the main table.
“How do you feel, son?” Dad’s reflection in the window catches the corner of my eye when he exits the elevator. The house was finished long ago, hidden in the deepest mountains of Riverside. Dad decided to keep it from Halen for as long as possible, since we all know how quick she is to throw her toys out the cot if I get something before her. Now that they all know it’s here, I wonder how long it’ll take before they throw their first party.
“Lighter than I thought.” I swirl my whiskey, staying fixed on the glowing streets down below. “If it’s the gavel that you’re referencing.”
Dad laughs a little, his shoulder brushing mine. We’d not long come back from the ritual, and as eventful as that was, whatever shit he’s going to say is only going to either annoy or bore me. Dad and I are different. At times, I thought we might be too different, but the way his jaw sets, hardening the darkness in his eyes when he looks back at me, I think I may have had it wrong.
And I’m never wrong.
“What?” I ask, standing straight. I hate when he does this because nothing good ever comes from Bishop Hayes being aloof. He always has some shit to say. Can never be the quietest in the room because he’s been raised to think he needs his voice.
“There’s something you need to know, and I couldn’t tell you until you took this.” He hands me the bone hammer, dribbled with gold. I’ve never thought about this moment. Not once has it crossed my mind the way that it did Dad’s because this, the gavel itself, is irrelevant to me. I don’t care for it.
My fingers curl around the trunk. “What? More secrets?” It’s a joke, but I’m not joking.
He chokes on his laugh, running his hand through his beard. It disappears beneath his suit jacket and returns with a black envelope. “When I give you this, you must understand that this is part of what it is to be a Hayes. For as long as your great-great-grandfather, this has been a requirement. Until me. How you handle it is your business. I’m not stupid, son.” He pauses, his eyes softening as he stares off into the distance. “I know you won’t be running the EKC the same way I did.”
I drown his words in whiskey. I’d kept much of how I would handle the Elite Kings close to my chest. When the time came, I’m sure those who need to know would.
“What gave it away?” I hide my smirk from behind my glass.
“Probably that you remind me of someone.” I fight my eyes from rolling. How many times have they compared me to my Uncle Daemon?
Too many.
I am nothing like him. From what they have said, he was sick. I’m not. My brain works at the same frequency as everyone else, without one essential component. Empathy.
“We don’t have to talk about that. You don’t owe me anything like I, your grandfather, but that right there…” He flicks the black envelope. “Is the key to your last name, as you will need to have this same conversation with your own.”