Page 57 of Twisted Kings

Aheadache gripped my head like a vise. I could barely speak from exhaustion, but I forced a smile when Landon handed me a cold beer.

Since leaving home, I hadn’t slept a wink, caught between fear of what my father would do to my mother, and worries about him tracking me down and dragging me home.

As I’d left my iPhone in my bedroom, my father had no way of contacting me. He was almost certainly back home by now, ready to welcome his guests for the annual Christmas Eve drinks party.

He’d be livid with me.Beyondlivid. This was the first time I’d openly defied him. I wondered what excuses he’d offer to his friends when I failed to appear. No doubt it would be something along the lines of,

“Cassian’s decided to go on a last-minute skiing break.” “Kids, eh? Ungrateful little shits.” .

His friends would commiserate, share stories of how entitled their own brats were, and then they’d drink and play poker.

It was the same old shit every year.

Thea’s sister sat opposite, staring at me as I sipped my beer. She was Thea’s twin, except for the eyes. Instead of dark, almost black eyes, hers were lighter, more chocolate.

“Are you Thea’s boyfriend too?” she asked innocently. Landon snorted and coughed to hide his amusement while Dario scowled. I took that to mean he hadn’t resolved his differences with Thea. Good.

“No,” I replied, forcing another smile. “Just a…” What was I, exactly? A friend?No. Fuck-buddy?No. “Just someone from college,” I went with.

“Is college like school?” the girl asked. Milo had told me she was 12, but because she’d never been to school and had spent most of her life locked in the house, she seemed younger. She was also tiny, like a little doll.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Being here complicated things. I could have booked a hotel somewhere. Taken a flight to Dubai. Or the US. Holed up for a few months while I came up with a plan to oust my father from his blood-soaked throne.

But instead, I’d chartered a private jet to Dublin at enormous cost because, despite living a life of unbelievable privilege since my birth, Milo, Kyril, and Landon were my only friends.

They were the only people I trusted not to betray me to my father. He’d find me eventually, but if I played my cards right, I could make arrangements to sever my ties to the man and rescue Mom from his clutches.

The money I now had access to would definitely help. I’d stopped off in London to verify the account details. The Wealth Manager at Coutts had let me have the details of my new account.

The poor guy had almost collapsed when he confirmed my identity and checked the balance. Thanks to the power of compound interest and decades of profitable investments, I was obscenely wealthy.

I had a feeling my father would lose his shit when he figured it out.

Oh well.

“College is like school for grown-ups,” Dario explained, interrupting my inner monologue. The gentle tone of his voice took me by surprise.

The man I’d grown accustomed to in the short time we’d spent sharing the apartment at Abernethy was bad-tempered, prone to violent outbursts, and the last person I’d trust with a vulnerable child.

“I’d like to go to college one day,” the girl said, looking sad for a moment. “Papa never let me attend school. He told me I wasn’t allowed to leave the house.” The way she said the words, like it was perfectly normal to ask a child to remain locked up, made my head pound ever harder. “I hate him,” she added as an afterthought, a frown scrunching her pretty face. “I hope Thea kills him soon.”

My jaw dropped at the casual way she talked about her sister murdering her father. Maybe we ought to organize some therapy for the girl. It sounded like she had a few issues. Possible psychopathy being one of them.

No wonder she and Dario had formed a bond. They had a lot in common.

“Dinner’s ready,” Milo announced, distracting the girl and thus ending the awkward conversation.

“Is it cake?” she asked hopefully. “I love cake.” A small chuckle of amusement escaped.Just like Thea.

“Not cake, Verity,” Dario said. “Something better than cake.”

“Is there something better than cake?” She didn’t look at all convinced.

“Yes, stew.” I tried not to laugh as Verity pouted at hearing we were having stew.

“I don’t like stew,” she muttered.

“Stew is good for you,” Milo countered, placing a small plate in front of her. He’d arranged the food to look like a smiley face, with green beans as hair, two sprouts as eyes, and mashed potato in a curved line for a mouth. It was both surprising and also cute.

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