Page 89 of Seizing Control: Part Two

“Boss.” Layla is unusually sympathetic as she tells me, “It’s gruesome. If you don’t want Hunter, then I can meet you there. It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re not alone when you see what Hugh did.”

As my mind processes her previous statements, bile fills my mouth.

Hugh St. James.

My dad.

A message.

It doesn’t make sense.

Until it does...

Spinning on my heel, I stomp through the Shamrocks clubhouse. The building is still gloomy, the need for pretence continuing as I hide in the shadows and skulk around in the dark. Gabriel’s denial of my requests for resurrection have grated. Almost as much as his two-timing with Slash behind my back has irritated me.

The purpose of killing Ezekiel Miles was to save Lily from Hugh and the Maddisons.

My fictional relative, Lazarus Abaddon, is supposed to live in the light.

Not march in the obscurity as one of the Adjudicator’s henchmen.

“Tell Hunter to meet me out the front,” I order.

“Of course.”

“Have Atlas dump Noah’s St. James’ body in the Swan River.”

“Of course.”

The ease of Layla’s compliance with my second request tells me that her mousetrap of a mind has already led her down the same path as mine. Her fingers fly across the keyboard in a flurry of activity that telegraphs more than her words ever will. All-seeing Skye’s allegiance now belongs to me.

Gabriel Abaddon is playing a dangerous game, and he’s badly miscalculated the fidelity I generate in my soldiers. I have always lead from the front. Never expected more from my brother’s than I was prepared to give myself.

It’s a lesson Gabriel skipped when he decided to manipulate us all like chess pieces.

Layla was his Queen.

Always one step ahead of everyone else, faithful in her protection of the King.

Hunter is quickly rising through the ranks as a dedicated Rook.

I was supposed to be Gabriel’s Bishop. Steadfast and loyal. Happy to accept the scraps thrown my way as I waited for the true power I’ve been promised. It’s unfortunate for the Adjudicator, but he made a lethal error of judgment when he tricked me into believing I was recruited to become the heir to the throne.

My place is at the front, not in the darkness.

As a leader, never a follower.

I have never been a pawn.

I refuse to start now.

“I want our people on this. Exclusively.”

“Already done.”

“Layla,” I say her name in a tone that brooks no arguments. “There’s no going back.”

“Lazarus.” She matches my tone with steely resolve. “I am cognizant of the risks, and I’ve made my choice.”

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