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Prologue Torian
I’ve done some heavy shit in my time.
I’ve taken the lives of many and ordered the death of more.
I was barely out of my teens when I had to take down one of my own men—a guy I’d trusted—because he’d dared to touch my sister. He’d raised a hand to Layla, and in return, I’d raised a gun to his temple and didn’t bat an eye when I pulled the trigger.
My father instilled that sense of protection in me. Which, I guess, makes my task today more than a little ironic.
The man who taught me everything, who shaped my prejudices and guided me through my entire life, needs to be shut down for the betrayal he’s inflicted on his children.
Today, I will punish my father out of respect for all of us. And that, by far, is the heaviest shit I’ve ever had to deal with. Not just the thought of confronting his actions, but addressing the betrayal—his against me, and mine against him.
At one time, he was all I knew. Everything I looked up to. All I aspired to be. There was no greater man than the mighty Luther Torian.
Now, he’s everything I despise and all I crave to defeat.
My only concern is the consequences.
If I had my way, I’d tap the brakes and allow myself more time to work out this plan. But stalling isn’t an option after I made a promise to an irrational sister who was hell-bent on taking the task into her own hands.
I won’t allow anyone else to sentence him. I don’t care how big the grievance. He’s mine to deal with.
My mentor. My flesh. My blood.
If anyone is going to instigate a war of loyalties among the men in my organization, it will be me. And I’ve never been more aware of the dangers of a possible split than I am now, standing beneath a portable gazebo, before a polished coffin, waiting for my uncle’s funeral to begin, in front of a crowd filled with potential enemies.
Richard Torian was an unscrupulous bastard.
A rapist.
A pedophile.
But both he and my father have always provided an unyielding level of protection toward our family that very few people dared to breech.
Without them, my stronghold will take a major hit.
Me, my sisters, my niece—all of us will be vulnerable unless I make the right choices.
“Unkie Cole, where’s Aunt Keira?” Stella drags her feet toward me, peering up with pained eyes.
“I’m sure she isn’t too far away.” I lean forward, palm her delicate chin, and encourage her focus to remain on mine. “How are you holding up, pumpkin?”
She nods, silently lying to me as she blinks through grief-stricken tears.
The heartache she harbors for a man who never existed cuts me to the core. She isn’t aware of Richard’s perversions, the ones that brought pleasure to him and agony to others. Hopefully, she never will be.
“She’s doing okay.” Layla grabs her daughter’s shoulders and encourages the child to retreat from me. It’s a subtle shun. A barely recognizable retaliation in front of a crowd filled with dark suits and darker souls. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
I stifle a snarl while Stella nuzzles her face into her mother’s stomach.
My sister isn’t letting go of her grudge against me any time soon. She’s made it clear she doesn’t appreciate me hiding family secrets from her. Secrets that weren’t mine to share. And, like every woman on the face of the earth, she’s clutching the grievance as if it’s a fucking lifeline.
“Lay off him, my love.” Her husband, Benji, places his hands on her waist. “The situation was complicated.”
“Your situation will be complicated if you don’t make intelligent choices about where your loyalties lie.” She scowls straight ahead, fixing her attention on something in the distance.
Benji’s hands drop from her body, his nostrils flaring in a show of a
He’s harsh. Aggressive. And threatening at the best of times.
When he opens his mouth to retaliate, I shoot him a look—one that orders him to be smart and keep quiet.
I know exactly where his loyalties lie. I always have. It’s the reason I gave him my blessing to marry my sister.
Besides, this isn’t the place to air relationship issues. God knows I’ve got enough shit to deal with without their egos fighting for supremacy.
“Unkie Cole?”
I sigh, this time ignoring the pull of angelic eyes as I glance across the crowd. “Yeah, little one?”
“Aunt Keira is late.”
“I know. Just try to be patient for me. I promise she will be here.”
Keira is definitely late, but she’ll show.
That boyfriend of hers will be at her side, too, when I’d much prefer he took up residence in the free plot beside my uncle.
I haven’t hidden my animosity toward Decker. In fact, I’ve made it clear I’d like to take the fucker swimming. While he wears cement blocks for shoes.
He’s a traitor. Not to mention a smart-ass who makes me want to extract every one of his teeth. Slowly.
The only thing keeping him alive is his dedication to my sister.
He saved Keira’s life. And, okay, he saved my ass, too.
But my generosity is wearing thin with every breath he takes.
“Want me to make some calls?” Luca asks over my shoulder. “She was riding with Hunt and Sarah.”
“Give them a few more minutes.” I bite back the a
Fuck.
With the mess in my head, everyone is rubbing me the wrong way. I understand he’s still trying to find his feet in the position of my right-hand man; he just needs to do it quicker. Before I lose my shit.
Maybe it was a mistake giving him Hunter’s previous role. I demoted my long-time enforcer to prove a point about loyalty. I demand allegiance. Honesty. Reliability. Hunt had wavered on all three counts. The non-compliance wasn’t something I could ignore.
Nobody fucks with me.
Not even a little bit.
But Luca will be a suitable placeholder until my point is made. He’s an ex-SEAL who entered the fold due to his relationship with Benji—his brother.
I’m always willing to take on new members who vouch for others with their lives. It makes for easy leverage.
But Luca’s loyalty has always been clear. He’s already had the psychological manipulation implanted in him from the government, making him the perfect soldier.
He’s just asking too many fucking questions when all I want is silence.
The funeral can’t start without Keira. And as much as I’d prefer to put this morning in my rearview, I don’t have the luxury of wishing away the minutes.
She isn’t the only person missing from the festivities.
My father is yet to arrive.
Maybe he’s not going to show.
I could’ve sworn he wouldn’t miss his brother’s funeral, despite the threat of the authorities breathing down his neck.
Each second that ticks by acts like a tightening vise around my chest. I haven’t heard a word from him since I called to relay the details of the graveside service. Not one fucking word.
There have been no whispers of travel arrangements. Or sightings among the many people I pay for information.
As far as I’m aware, he’s still in the Greek islands, pretending to kick back and soak up the scenery, when what he’s really doing is tainting our family name.
Desecrating my mother’s memory.
He’s branded me and my sisters, associating all of us with the sex slave trade.