Page 39 of Making the King

I straighten my spine and take another step backward. “Do you honestly think—”

Before I can finish speaking, Mateo gets in my face. Fury rolls off of him as he slaps me. “You stupid fucking cunt,” he snarls. “You never did learn your place.”

My hand shoots up to my cheek, it’s burning. “W-what?” I stutter, confused by his outburst.

Everything happens so quickly I barely have time to react.

Mateo lunges, swinging his fist at me, and I don’t lift my arm quickly enough to block him. His fist connects with my chin, causing my head to snap to the side as I stumble backwards.

No!

Not to-fucking-day.

In prison, I took up kickboxing in the gym, and unofficially I learned to throw knives. Since I don’t have my own blade, the latter won’t help me.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I sneer.

Then I kick out, aiming for his stomach. But Mateo manages to move to the side, avoiding me.

“You bitch,” he shouts.

Rolling my shoulders back, I stand as tall as possible, refusing to show any weakness. “At least I’m not some pathetic mama’s boy,” I taunt. “Unlike you, I don’t hide behind our parents.”

A sinister smile spreads across his lips. “And unlike you, dear twin, I’m fucking worthy. All you were good for was being sold. Tell me, did your pathetic husband finally fuck you?”

There’s something in his voice that causes me to really look at him. They say that all twins have a special bond, and right now, that feels true, even though it’s not a good one.

“It was a warning,” I say. “Coming to Rocco’s house last night was a warning, wasn’t it?”

He shrugs, pretending to look indifferent but I see the relief in his eyes. “So what if it was?”

Yeah… so what if it was? I don’t know. But surely it has to mean something.

“I don’t know,” I almost whisper. “Why would you do that?”

As if he’s angered by my question, Mateo clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides. “Don’t start asking questions, Cara. You and I were pitted against each other since we were kids, and that’s how it will always be.”

Tears form in my eyes, and a single one escapes, trailing down my cheek. “Okay,” I choke out.

I’m not going to attempt to change his mind, because he’s right. We haven’t been close since we were kids, and one somewhat kind act isn’t changing that.

I see the second he decides to attack me, and I swiftly kick out at him again. This time, I hit him square in the chest, and it’s his turn to stumble backwards.

“You cunt,” he seethes.

Rolling my eyes, I volley, “I’m getting so sick and fucking tired of people using that word against me.”

Without pausing, he comes at me. Or, he tries to. But before he reaches me, Rocco steps in front of me, a gun in his hand.

Rocco

“You lay one more hand on her and it’s the last thing you’ll fucking do.” I seethe, my whole body vibrating with rage as I stare down who I assume is Cara’s twin brother given the same gray eyes staring back at me.

“This is not your concern.” The gutless prick glares at me even as I feel Cara’s dainty hand on the back of my shoulder.

“You’re wrong about that,” I hiss. “Cara is my wife and therefore my only fucking concern. The only reason I haven’t pulled the trigger yet is out of courtesy for her, but please, give me a reason to ignore her.”

“Rocco. Don’t.”

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