Page 269 of Vile Boys

I walk up to the casino and stare up at the lights on the front of the building. Just one of so many buildings, I can’t even count all of the riches he owns on two hands. Yet none of them will ever belong to me.

“Move.” My father’s guard shoves me in the back.

“Keep your hands to yourself.” I glance at him over my shoulder. “Unless you’d like to see them bitten off.”

His face contorts with horror, and I take pride in being the cause before I step forward into a hell far worse than Tartarus ever will be.

But I have no regrets.

I knew my choices would lead me here, and I would repeat them a thousand times over.

For her.

I swallow and walk through the crowd of people with the guards right behind me. My eyes skid from left to right across each of the hallways we march through, spotting a ton more guards, all of which have earpieces in. There’s never been this many.

Are they all here for me?

I smirk to myself as we march into the dark hallways, beyond thescope of where guests are allowed, and head straight toward the door at the end where my father’s domain makes my heart throb in my throat.

This is it. There’s no way back from here.

I step inside my father’s office, and the guard behind me closes the door again.

I’m left in a room with my father and one single guard I could possibly overpower … but at what cost? I’d be killed the second I stepped foot outside this door.

No, he wants me to know I’m outnumbered.

That it’s futile to resist.

He clears his throat from behind his desk. “Sit. Down.”

With a monotonous look on my face I step forward and grab the chair, scooting it back far enough so I don’t have to sit right in front of him. I don’t care if it pisses him off.

“Do you know why I’ve called you here?” he says.

“No.”

His eyes twitch. “Take a guess.”

“I have no clue.”

WHAM!

His fist comes down on the table. “Don’tplay coy with me. You know better than to act like a fool in front of your father.”

I fold my arms. “Does it even matter? We both know what you want.”

His nostrils flare. “Tell me it wasn’t you that went inside that Bones Brotherhood auction. Tell me it wasn’t you who murdered all of them.” When I don’t answer, he screams, “Tell me!”

“What do you want to hear? That I’m sorry?” I ask. “I’m not. I never will be. They deserved every inch of pain I gave them.”

The more I speak, the more my father’s face contorts. And honestly, that look on his face alone was worth it.

He stands up, planting two hands on the desk as he towers over me. “How fucking dare you?!”

I already knew I was never going to be the perfect son.

But this … his rage over the fact that he can’t control me … is what I call true perfection.

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