Page 87 of Ashes of Sin

Parker might look like some tattooed GQ model walking around with a big fat bank account, investing in businesses and turning them around. But deep down, the wounds fester. He’s the kind of kid that pulled wings off flies and sat watching them suffer with a lick of joy.

Maybe even more.

All four of us know we must keep him in check.

I don’t know who hid the second wife and stepdaughter when his father died and we left college, but they were smart.

Now, Parker’s found her.

He’s fantasized about what he’d do when drunk or angry, and there’s no way any of us are going to let him follow through with his plans.

“Don’t do anything before we talk.” I say firmly.

His lips twitch into a smile.

“Parker, where is Aurora?” I growl, taking a step closer.

“Safe for now,” he replies and walks to the edge of the balcony, placing both hands on the railing and looking out over Manhattan.

I bet she fucking isn’t.

I’m in no position to argue with him right now. I kidnapped Kyra. ButIhad no intention of hurting her. Nor falling...

Fuck.

Am I in love with her?

“Marry her, Maddox.” Parker turns. “I saw you two together last night. I saw the look in your eyes. The utter possessiveness and lust.”

“Lust”—I shake my head—“doesn’t keep a marriage together, Park.”

He pushes away from the rail.

“It does for a man like you.” He walks up to me and lays a hand on my shoulder. “She needs your dominance and to be owned. Even if she doesn’t understand it yet.”

Jesus. Is he right?

“You’ll give her the freedom she wants while keeping her protected from those who will take advantage.”

Like both our fathers.

“If he’s fucked her, Parker, Jesus.” I run a hand through my hair as his hand falls away.

“Kill him.” I let out a long breath at his firm and final words, but he continues. “Stop fucking around. You know he needs to die. He will tear her apart and spit out what’s left of her.”

A roar builds inside me.

“Get it done so nobody can trace it back. You have enough money and power to protect yourself. If it needs to be ordered by one of us, just say the word.”

I stare at a framed picture on the wall, imagining a bullet flying through the air and hitting my father’s forehead.

Seeing him fall to the floor and him taking the last breath of life he’ll ever take.

Feeling the satisfaction that the pain can now end once and for all.

“Do it for all the young children he’s harmed. For all the men he’s framed. Hell, he probably has a few judges blackmailed. How many people do you think would be sad to see him dead?”

“None,” I reply darkly.

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