Page 33 of The Heir

My mother smothered, it was true, but she also educated those she raised. She passed on little tidbits of her knowledge as a federal agent. I didn’t understand all her babble and profiling shit, but I knew the eyes were important.

I knew it wasn’t good when pupils blew, whether it was due to drugs or… Whatever the fuck it was she always warned Karlotti about.

“I need a drink.” I sighed, suddenly wishing I had a phone.

I wasn’t ready to sit down with my mother and Oak, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to mingle with May until I ended up in a cage again, either.

“We can probably get somebody to buy us a twelve pack,” May suggested, prompting me to stare at him.

“What?” he quietly asked, before giving a crazy look around like he thought someone had overheard him.

“I’m fucking twenty- three, dumbass. I don’t need anyone to buy booze for me.”

“Oh.” He grinned and nodded. “Right.”

Chapter Thirteen

Marchella

I slid the kitchen chair next to Aunt Trista out a bit and planted my ass in it. I wanted to follow Blaze so badly, but I wasn’t born into this life yesterday. When my father or a disciple said to do something, people generally obeyed.

It didn’t occur to me to object, especially with Easy being the president.

My father remained on the floor for several long moments after Blaze and May had left. No one said a word. The constant maddening tick of Trista’s oversized clock was only interrupted by the sound of my father coughing and gagging at random intervals while struggling to regain his breath.

I was in a daze of sorts. It wasn’t the violence that shocked me. I was used to that. I was stunned by everything I’d heard and now witnessed. No one had ever stood up to my father. No one.

Ever.

He was the only god most of my siblings and I had ever recognized, and he was a tyrant on his best days. A monster and a bully. Not even the women who loved him were safe from the demons he carried with him. He was a creature capable of a level of coldness that permeated the bones of his prey and could be detected by everyone in the room when he unleashed it— Andyet, Blaze was either immune or ignorant to it. He didn’t hesitate a minute to slide over me and march off to battle.

I was still reeling at the imagined brawl I’d thought was coming.

I was certain my father was going to kill him, maybe he would have, if Easy hadn’t been there.

Trista slurped, as lazy as she pleased, drawing me from my thoughts. Her mascara coated lashes weren’t blinking and those big eyes were locked on me.

“That good, huh?” She grinned and nudged my arm.

My cheeks flushed and she laughed, causing my father to haul up to his knees and thrust a finger in my direction. The sound died on my lips, and I tried to look away.

I wasn’t quick enough, Easy slapped his finger so hard I heard a joint pop.

“Stop pointing and get up. I got bigger fish to fry with you, mother fucker,” he scoffed, taking off his Disciples kutte and tossing it at Aunt Trista.

She caught it like it was something her husband did every time he walked through the door. I didn’t know where to look, so I watched her fold the damn thing and lay it over her lap. She idly teased her nail along the bottom rocker and stared at her husband and brother across the table.

My father laughed and hauled himself to his feet.

He turned his attention silently toward me and stared like I was the lowest thing he’d ever been forced to look at. When I didn’t take the bait or look away, he focused on Easy, his head cocking, like some wild animal looking for the best angle to charge from.

“Outside!” Trista roared, slapping the table.

“Fuck off,” My father tried to growl. “Ain’t no skirt tells me wha–” Easy abruptly slapped him, grabbed the front of my dad’s face, and didn’t stop the momentum. He charged down the hallway, steering my father dome first and at a backward trot toward the back door.

Trista sighed and looked at me with an apologetic grimace of a smile.

“Brothers and husbands,” she grumbled.

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