Page 12 of Primal

“Her brother—Mason Godwin—was murdered,” Braken announces as if someone getting killed is a normal piece of news to get at 6am. “And it happened on Frost property. Which makes my family look extremely guilty in playing a part.” Braken speaks without any change of expression, as if announcing theweather or a stock market trend; the accumulated fatigue has drained all emotions out of him.

Soren and I share a glance filled with dread and shock. Mason Godwin wasn’t merely a figurehead for one of Seattle’s most powerful families; he was a beacon, a symbol for someone you don’t fuck with. Ever. And now he’s dead.

“Did your father order the hit?” Soren breaks the silence, his voice strained, edgy.

Braken clears his throat, his gaze fixed on the steaming cup of coffee in his hands. “No. But optics are still bad.”

“Is that why Fiora is hiding out on Heathens Hollow?” I ask.

Braken shakes his head. “The hit just happened. It was a car bomb, and I don’t think Fiora is even aware of it yet. No way could she know if the Godwins have no way of finding her.”

“So, what happens now?” I ask.

Braken stares into his coffee for a long moment, as though the answer might appear in the black liquid. “It’s time I confront Fiora and let her know we all know who she really is. I need to tell her about her brother, and make sure she knows I’m not the enemy. And, somehow, I need to convince her father that the Frost family has no issues with the Godwins.”

Soren crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the bar, his expression grim. “Easier said than done. Your father and Hector Godwin have not always seen eye to eye.”

“I know. I’ve tried damn hard to stay out of all that family vendetta bullshit. I just want to run The Vault, oversee the hotels in Seattle, and keep my head down. But sadly, I think I have to step out of the shadows on this one. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure The Vault and all of you don’t get pulled into this.”

Talking about murder, family vendettas, turf war, and the seedy underbelly of the rich and dangerous is still foreign to me. Although my business partners have all tried to maintain a muchlower profile than they all once led, they are still as night from day different to me.

I grew up rich, but the kind of rich that involves playing tennis and attending charity dinners. The only type of crime my family and friends would engage in is maybe lying on your taxes a little.

By comparison, I’m a god damn Boy Scout.

The only thing that I have in common with these men is that we all share an equal stake in The Vault. I would stand by their side in the bloodiest of wars if I had to. Legal or not, I wouldn’t say no to anything asked of me.

Locke, Braken, and most definitely Soren are my new family. My found family.

They don’t care where I put my cock, or how I choose to live my life. Unlike my own blood family, my new family would throw themselves on the sword for me. Of that, I have no doubt, and they get my undying loyalty because of it.

“Any idea who ordered the hit, if it wasn’t your family?” Soren retrieves a bottle of whiskey from the shelf behind him. He pours himself a generous glass, ignoring our incredulous looks. “What? It’s been a long night.”

“Too long,” I grumble, accepting when Soren passes me the bottle. I take a swig straight from it. The burn of the whiskey shooting down my throat is oddly comforting.

Braken watches us both, his eyes hardening as he takes in our exhaustion and the alcohol. “No idea yet,” he says, breaking the silence once more. “But it’s only a matter of time before we find out. Word is getting around. Mason Godwin was a mean son of a bitch and had just as many enemies as his father. Frankly, I think more people wanted to see Mason dead over Hector.”

I lean back against the bar to study Braken. “If Hector Godwin thinks you had anything to do with Mason’s death?—”

“He’ll have my head on a spike,” Braken finishes grimly.

“All of our heads,” I add. “He’ll burn The Vault to the ground. No doubt about that.”

Soren nods, draining his whiskey glass before setting it down onto the counter with a softthunk. “I’m going to have to call Locke and let him know what’s going on. Yes, he’s having a romantic getaway, but he wouldn’t want to be kept in the dark on this.” Soren grabs his phone and walks away so he can make the call while Braken and I continue talking.

“Do you think Fiora’s life is in danger?” I ask.

Braken lifts his gaze to meet mine, the soft glow of the bar lights reflecting in his eyes as he shrugs. “There’s no real way of knowing yet, but she’s a Godwin, and her brother was just murdered. So, I’d say she isn’t exactly safe, but regardless, someone needs to break the news to her, and I feel it needs to be me.”

Chapter 8

Fiora

I need to figure out what I’m doing with my life. I’ve never been one to be impulsive, and yet, here I am, hiding out on Heathens Hollow. It’s only a matter of time until my father finds me. I know this, even though a part of me feels he doesn’t care I’m gone. At least not yet. Because if he truly did care… he’d be standing on my doorstep.

No one can escape a Godwin.

Every creaking branch outside my window or rustle of leaves in the wind causes my heart to leap into my throat. Because truth be told, no matter how far you run or where you hide, there’s one thing you can never truly escape—your past.

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