Page 109 of Blades of Obsession

“Really?” She seems to contemplate in her head.

“We can invite Frankie and Asher, you guys can have a movie night like you always used to while I handle what I need to at John’s. Then you can come with me on the mission and stay in the car, we’ll make it work.”

A small smile spreads across her face. “Okay.”

I press a kiss to her lips. “Together from now on. We’re a package deal.”

She mumbles through the kiss, “Together.”

“I won’t go on so many missions and leave you alone for days anymore. Thank you for voicing your problems with me so I can know what to change for you, angel.” I kiss her once last time.

•••

“So, what’s so important you had to threaten my relationship for? Oh, and if you do that again, I’m going to slit your fucking throat. I don’t play about my relationship and not you, or anyone else is going to threaten it.”

John’s face flashes with anger at my tone, his expression darkening, but he restrains himself from reacting and I can see the exact moment he decides not to respond to it. Good choice on his part. “Someone’s snooping around, trying to tear the Serpents down. He’s got info that could crumble us from the inside out.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Who?”

“Your father.”

The two words hit me, but I don’t flinch, or show any sign of shock or emotions. Years of training taught me how to mask them. I force a nonchalant shrug, remaining stoic, even though my heart is racing.

“And why exactly should I kill my father for you?”

“Look, do you want to be president one day or not? Because the president puts the group first, even before family, especially lousy drunk family. The strength of the group is the most important thing and I’m not letting anyone alter it, even a little bit. And you can’t be reigned in as president unless you feel the same.”

I’m not killing my dad. Ever since I killed Eli and Jacob came for revenge, I vowed to myself to stop senseless killings, the ones that John sayshaveto be done, without giving any real details why.

It causes too much chaos, not just the life of the person you kill, but it puts the people you love in danger. Anyone can have a friend or spouse or sibling off to the side wanting revenge, and I don’t have time to track down everyone important in the lives of the people I kill. The only people I’ll kill from now on are people who personally wrong me or those whodeserveto be killed. Not for random missions because John says so.

But sitting here denying him will only make him suspicious. So, I let out a fake sigh and say, “Okay, fine. The bastard has always had it coming anyway. He was a shit father.”

“I knew you would be sensible in this situation. A true leader.”

As John lays out his plan, I wrack my brain for my own strategy and how I want it to go down. I just need to get specifics on a few details and I think I can make it work.

Chapter 41

BLADE

I throw the duffel bag at the lump on the bed. It lands with a dull thud, followed by a startled grunt. “Hey, wake up!” My father sits up, eyes bleary, looking like he’s been sleeping for days. “Pack up, you’re going to Mexico.”

He blinks a few times, rubbing his right eye. “Mexico?!” He looks over at the alarm clock—it reads just after midnight. “You’re waking me up at midnight and saying we have to go to Mexico? Are you high?” He reaches for the glass of whiskey on his nightstand, probably there from before he passed out.

I snatch the cup out of his hand and slam it down. “John put a hit out on you, and you’re worrying about fucking drinking. You’re going to Mexico. Unless you prefer to die.”

His eyes widen, and he mumbles, “Fuck,” before swinging his legs over the bed, standing up unsteadily.

“Yeah, fuck. Now pack up this duffel and that suitcase over there. Only the essentials, and no, that doesn’t include alcohol.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t afford to up and move and—”

“I got you a place there. I’ll send you money from a secret account once the coast is clear.”

He sighs, something like gratitude flickering in his eyes, almost heartfelt. I must be imagining it. He’s never beenheartfelt a day in his life. “Why are you giving me this warning? And helping me?”

“I don’t know.” I really don’t know. Why am I doing this for the man who was a terrible father, who was never there for me when I needed him? Even now, if the roles were reversed he’d probably take the money and kill me. It’d be so much easier to just kill him. But something is stopping me from doing it. “Stop questioning your blessings—that’s how you lose them. Now pack up. We don’t have much time.”

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