Page 35 of Kingmakers, Year One

I intend to be at the top, like always.

Bram probably thinks the same thing. He narrows his eyes at me, tossing back his longish hair and muttering something to his friends. The other Penose give me venomous looks.

Bram’s the next shooter. He rolls the point number three times before hitting a seven, ending the round. He scoops up his winnings, grinning.

“Hey, Dmitry,” he calls. “Why don’t you come join?”

He’s calling to a tall blond boy who’s standing at the railing looking down at the water. The boy took his shirt off because of the heat. A Siberian tiger is tattooed to the right of his spine, done in the classic style as if it were crawling up his back. Because he’s so pale, the tiger looks snow white with black stripes.

Dmitry turns slowly to face our group.

He looks right at me and seems to recognize me immediately.

I get a similar jolt.

He’s strangely familiar, even though I know we’ve never met.

His eyes narrow, his jaw tightens, and his lip curls up in a sneer.

“No thanks,” he says coldly. “I don’t like the company.”

“What?” Bram says, glancing back and forth between us. “TheAmerikanets?”

“What’s wrong with Americans?” I say. I keep my voice level, but I’m looking the blond boy right in the eye.

Bram and I sized each other up last night, and it was clear that we both thought we were hot shit. Who’s shit is hotter remains to be determined. With Dmitry it’s something else. He’s doesn’t eye me like a rival. He’s glaring at me like an enemy.

“It’s not Americans,” he says, voice dripping with disdain. “It’syou.”

Something in his voice, coupled with his coloring and the familiarity of his features makes it all click at once.

I’m talking to my cousin. He’s calling himself Dmitry, but this is Dean Yenin, I’m sure of it.

Not that Dean considers us family.

His father and my mother are twins. They were best friends growing up. Until my mom chose my dad over her own family.

Dean’s grandfather tried to kill everyone I know and love at my parents’ wedding: my uncle Nero, my aunt Camille, Uncle Dante, my godmother Greta, even my father. He succeeded in murdering my grandpa Enzo, so that I’ve only ever known him from a portrait that hangs in my father’s office.

And in return, my father rained down bloody retribution on Dean’s family. Dean’s grandfather is dead, strangled to death by my dad. And his father Adrian is burned up worse than Vader from what I’ve heard.

So weareenemies, maybe more than anyone else on this boat.

I knew that Dean was coming to Kingmakers.

I knew this was coming.

But it’s something different to meet him face to face, after never even having seen a photo of him.

He’s the main reason my mother didn’t want me coming here. She’s tried to reach out to her brother over the years—tried to repair their relationship so they could at least have a measure of forgiveness, even if they could never be close again.

He never responded to her, not a single word.

It’s clear from the expression on Dean’s face that my mom was right. The Yenins weren’t just avoiding us. They fucking hate us still.

“Is that any way to talk to your cousin?” I say to Dean.

I won’t give him the satisfaction of glaring back at him. Instead I paste a grin on my face, like I don’t take him seriously. I know that’s the best way to really piss him off.

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