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“You have five minutes,” Bishop replies calmly. Too calm.
“Three,” I correct, falling to the spot beside him.
Hector stares between us. “Veronica has put a bounty on Saint’s head. She’s had it active for a while, from what I can see. She doesn’t know that I know this, but I’ve known for some time.”
Squeezing my fist in the palm of my hand to stop myself from completely losing it, I manage to grit out, “How long and explain.”
“I’ve known she was alive all along, Brantley.” My mouth opens to ask another question, but he shakes his head, clearly wanting to continue. “The bounty she has on Saint is known by all six gangs in New York City. She kept it local, so it’s manageable if we can get them all together.”
“What’s the fucking problem then?” I’m dancing dangerously close to losing my shit. She has a fucking bounty on Saint, and I let her walk right into the bitch’s arms. “Why the fuck haven’t you worked all these years to get it off her?”
Hector tilts his head to the side. “Have you forgotten what one of the four gangs is?”
“The Gentlemen.” Bishop sighs, massaging his temples. “You couldn’t get them to sway, even if you fucking paid them before.”
“Correct, but now it’s different because Da
I grimace. The whiskey isn’t helping me right now. If anything, it’s making everything worse. I push my glass away on the coffee table and lean forward. “We will handle the meeting with them all, Gentlemen included.”
Bishop’s hand rests on my shoulder before he looks back at Hector. “Sorry, Dad. I fucking flipped.”
Hector stands from his chair. “Son, I respect the hell out of you and am proud of how far you have come and the direction in which you’re taking The Kings—” He buttons up his jacket, pausing when he reaches us. “But either of you try to ambush me like that again and I’ll fucking cut you.” He leaves the same way Bishop arrived, and as soon as he’s out of the room, everything suddenly feels too heavy. I fucking pushed her into Veronica’s arms and believed every word she fucking fed me. I took the damn bait. I’ve never trusted Hector completely. I always knew there were too many secrets hiding behind all that fancy hair. But now, I see it. I see his intention for Saint and how wrong I was to allow Veronica to take her. He had tried to stop it from the fucking begi
How fucking wrong I was.
“Don’t start that shit.” Bishop’s voice is low, his arms crossing in front of him. I forgot he was still here.
I run my hand over my face and let out a frustrated growl. “It’s my fault.”
“Shut the fuck up, Brantley. You did what you thought was right. We know now, and she’s safe. Let that shit go, brother.” He stands, patting my shoulder. “If you need to revise it after we put Veronica down, fine. We will all sit in The Palace and fucking hash through it all, but you’re not carrying that shit on your own. I’ll see you in the morning.” I don’t answer him, and it’s not until I hear the front door close that I backhand my glass off the coffee table and watch as it flies across the room and explodes against the wall. Leaning on my elbows, I close my eyes and start counting to ten. By the time I hit eight, I’ve realigned my priorities and am on the same page as Bishop. He’s right. We need to remain vigilant. We will fucking win this. Flicking off the light, I make my way back up to my bedroom and see she’s not where I left her when I get there. I go for her room first, because if she’s in there, I’m dragging her ass out and into mine. As if I really gave her a damn choice. Do I look like fucking Bishop?
I shove the door open until the handle hits the wall on the other side.
Empty.
The corner of my lip slowly curls up when I turn and realize she’s made the right choice.
Stepping forward, I swing open my bedroom door and find her body wrapped in blankets horizontally. She’s fast asleep, with her arm covering her forehead and her leg dangling off the bed. She looks like an angel, but she sleeps like a fucking menace. I take a moment, just watching her sleep. It’s not until my eyes fall down to Hades and Kore staring up at me from the foot of the bed that I make my way into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
Slipping under the covers on my side, if you can even fucking call it that, I snake my arm around her waist and yank her into my body. She wriggles in my grip. “Tired.”
I sink my teeth into the back of her neck. “Don’t care.”
She moves onto her back and rests her hand on my cheek. “It’s not because I married you tonight.” I pause. I don’t want to have this conversation with her right now.
“Not what I wanted to talk about. Go back to sleep.”
She ignores me. “It’s—there’s something I need to tell you, and you’re not going to like it.”
Instantly, my hackles are fucking arching to the high heavens for the second time tonight. Fuck. “What?”
She tries to shuffle away from me, but I tighten my grip around her waist, pulling her flush against my chest. She sighs when she realizes she can’t fight me. “You know those texts I was telling you I started receiving?”
I nod.
She bites her bottom lip. “And you know how I told you about seeing you in the limo after the ceremony?” My grip tenses around her waist. It’ll bruise. She brings her arm around the back of my neck, and that’s when I know whatever she’s going to tell me, I’m going to fucking flip.
“Before you try to tell me that I have some fucking twin brother, I don’t.”
She shakes her head. “No, I know. It’s not that. It’s, I’ve been seeing someone every time I close my eyes. Sometimes my eyes aren’t even closed.” She pauses, pushing off my chest and turning onto her back. This time I let her. Her eyes are focused on the ceiling. “At first when I saw him, I was confused. I thought maybe you did have a twin brother.”
“Wait, he looks exactly like me?”
She turns her head. “He doesn’t just look like you, Brantley. He is you.” My fist clenches. I can feel the familiar thudding of my heart as it begins racing. “In the begi
Before she can continue, I ask, “So this is who has been sending those texts?” I’m leaning up on one elbow now, glaring down at her.
She flinches. “Yes.”
“So he’s real? As in, I can feel his blood spill over my hands when I fucking kill him?”
She stares up at me. “Yes.”
“Fucking good. So who is he?”
She breathes out, her eyes turning dim. “Well, I don’t know. That’s the problem.”
A deep growl escapes my mouth and I swing my legs out of bed, tearing the covers from my body and reaching for my phone on the bedside table. The light from the screen blinds me, but I search Bishop’s number and hit dial.