Page 24 of Cruel Crown

“Get. To. The. Point.” I bit back.

“I was sent to follow Julian, Rivera’s son. It’s no secret they want Chicago, but Giovanny Estacado and his sons are ruthless. So, I did my duty, I came, mostly got laid, but imagine my surprise when I saw him meet with Yorovich.”

“They were supplying Sinestre?” I hushed the words out.

“Oh no, it goes much bigger than this. I investigated more, and it just not in Chicago. It’s in Texas, New York, and your old director didn’t budge because of the Sekt—he was in on it, opening the borders to transfer the product. Your old agent probably figured it out, and they turned him into a pet. Did you know Daphne found him and gave him the only mercy she could?”

“No,” I breathed. “She never told me shit.”

That’s when he said something that shocked me.

“She doesn’t know any of this, at least not yet.”

Oh, Petal, your world is going to be turned upside down, and I’m going to get a front-row seat to watch it.Revenge was delicious.

Daphne

Location:Sweden

“Again,” I barked as the girl tried to hit me.

Her lips trembled, but there was defiance in her eyes and fire in her soul. She straightened her shoulders and ran for me with a war cry that I somehow found amusing. I almost felt sorry when I jumped and kicked her, sending her flying backward and on her ass.

“And you said you’ve been training,” I mocked her. To my surprise, she only took three seconds before she got up again.

The young girl Gideon had helped me save was now a woman. A little taller but not much since she was malnourished, drugged, and abused. Her skin had some color now. The pale was now a lovely olive tone, and her hair looked healthy. She was still skin and bones, but that was because she pushed herself rigorously.

“That’s all I ever do—train for what? For nothing.”

And we were back to the argument we’d been having for a while. I called her Cam since she couldn’t remember her name, nor where she came from. Too much damage had been done to her, and sometimes it was better to forget our darkest days.

Not for me though—I never wanted to forget whose blood I washed my hands with, and whose bones I stepped on to get where I was today. I never wanted to forget whose heart I ripped out to get my kingdom. My crosses, my sins, and my lies were all I had left.

“You’re not ready,” I told her for the thousandth time.

Cam’s face filled with rage and I liked seeing it there. It was better than the empty look she used to have. Like the one Rebeca had when I dropped her off with Franco.

“When will I be ready?” she yelled at me. “When will I be allowed to go out? I train and train and fucking train, and I am a prisoner. I traded one cage for a bigger one.”

Cam was short for Chameleon. She was good at adapting, so since she couldn’t remember her name, I had to call her something, right? I was a bitch, but it had to be done. I walked up to her and started to attack her until she was up against the wall.

“When the touch of a man doesn’t scare you anymore…” I said with a harsh voice as I brought my hand between her legs. “And when you don’t freeze when someone touches your sex. Then you’re fine to go out and be on your own.” I pulled away quickly, not wanting to traumatize her more. “While you’re here scared, yourmasteris still out there. He’s partying. Drinking. Fucking…and he doesn’t give two shits that he broke you. He doesn’t care about you…”

Cam whimpered for me to stop, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

“He’s living his life while you’re too scared to own up to yours.”

With those words, I walked away, leaving her to let her rage slowly start to consume her. Yates was her kill to make, so for now, I let the bastard live large. His day would come, and if it weren’t by her hands, then it would be by mine.

The basement was decked out with a state-of-the-art gym. She would be down there for hours, punching out her frustration. The mind and the body had to be equally strong. While she worked on her body, her mind was slowly catching up.

Walking up the stairs, I went to my room and grabbed my phone. It had been three weeks since Colombia, and Bastian had yet to make an appearance. I got a thirty-second phone call saying he was okay, but he didn’t explain more.

Not that I was worried, but this was unusual. Or maybe not at all and it was just me. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I let myself think about him. Was he alive? Captured? Dead? Would any of the outcomes matter?

Picking up my phone, I called him.

“Hello?”

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