Page 42 of King of Hearts

My stomach dropped out. Whatever language she was speaking, it was with perfect fluidity and dialect that matched his.

Creeping along the opposite wall, I moved into the kitchen and grabbed a large butcher knife then veered back toward the sentinels crowding the back of the couch.

Twisting the blade in my grasp a few times to get the motion down, I crouched down and, before I could talk myself out of it, cut into the tendon behind the man’s knee who stood closest to me. Then I slid on the floor and cut into the man standing next to him. By the time he was down, the third was moving, and I’d already stood, lunged, and stabbed into his neck.

Pulling it free, I spun, pointed my gun toward the man near the side, and pulled the trigger. It landed in his shoulder, forcing him down. The gun was aimed at the man in the center a second later.

“Let her the fuck go.” I breathed out heavily.

I wasn’t out of shape, but I hadn’t used a blade in that way in over three years.

The man looked over my shoulder, so I dodged around and pointed my knife at him.

“Do you know who I am?” I didn’t know why I asked it, but there was something familiar about the man holding Taylor, about the men with him. He was a part ofit, the disgusting mess that was my entire family, what I grew up with. It was darkness I recognized, so I wanted to know if he recognized me too.

The man let Taylor go, but only so he could laugh and remove his jacket while looking around the room.

“If this blade flies, I promise you it will land exactly where I want it to,” I swore, glancing at the men bleeding out behind me.

“Do you know who the fuck you’re messing with, boy?” he asked, straightening and fixing the cuffs of his shirt until they were rolled up his arms. “Have you not heard of Ördög up and down this forsaken coast?” His white teeth clicked as his thick accent flowed out of him.

A sliver of fear splintered, but I wouldn’t let it show. I had heard of the devil. Everyone had. He was the Hungarian warlord who’d moved his operations to New York and now ruled more territory than my own family did. He was our biggest competition. This was about to be a bloodbath in about thirty seconds if Hector pulled through. I just needed Taylor out of it.

“I have heard of you, old man.” I flicked my gaze to the back of the house where I saw a few headlights bleeding through the parted curtains. Relief swelled in my chest as I realized my cousin had been telling the truth about the panic button. I had to keep the devil and his men occupied while they made their entrance. “But tell me, you sick fuck”—I spit on the blood pooling near my feet—“how stupid are you to sneak intomyhouse while I sleep and touchmythings?”

I walked closer to him, the men around the couch flanking me with their guns pointed at me, but my weapons were still pointed at their boss. One of them looked oddly familiar and younger than me. I eyed him curiously. Those eyes…I know those eyes. I sat next to them for an entire semester. Decker’s eyes…is that his brother?

The man laughed. “We touched nothing of yours. I came for her.” He gestured with his head toward Taylor. She was on her ass, leaning back on her palms while looking up at the man. Why hadn’t she run? Why was she still there?

I gestured toward her with the gun. “She’s mine.”

“And who the fuck are you, boy?” He tilted his head in a menacing way.

Right on cue, glass shattered toward the back of the house.

“Fucking El Peligro,you son of a bitch,” I seethed while the echo of chaos erupted around us.

The man’s eyes went wide as my family crowded the room, Hector leading them, two guns in his hands pointed at the men aiming theirs at me, my uncle next to him, a desert eagle in his hand, pointed at the man in the center. At least a dozen others walked in behind them, some with bats, most with guns or knives.

My family outnumbered his men ten to one, so each of the men surrendered their weapons to my family, but the fucking devil himself saw the moment his window closed and grabbed Taylor, using her as a shield.

“Manuel died by my own hand. El Peligro died…unless…” His eyes swung around the room before landing on me.

My stomach flipped over like I’d just been dropped off the top of a rollercoaster.

“I will talk with you once you’ve let her go.” I tried to distract him from the pieces of my father’s life and mine that he was putting together.

He laughed, smoothing her hair back. I wanted to cut that fucking hand from his body.

“If I let my daughter walk to you, I’m dead.”

Daughter?

“Then talk fast.” I lowered my gun but gripped the blade in my hand tightly.

“You said she’s yours, but she’s promised to another…and it looks like she's gotten herself knocked up. Are you telling me you’re the father? Because my only plan is to take her and kill him.”

“I am the father. Do you plan on killing me?” I raised my arms, letting him see the tattoo that ran down the back of my arm. My cousins and family began laughing around the room at the notion of this man killing me.

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