Page 34 of The Beautiful Dead

The asphalt stretched long and winding, designed to disorient any outsider stupid enough to make it this far. Few did. Even fewer left.

I pulled up to the blackened iron gates, the DeMarco crest gleaming in the dim light. They didn’t open immediately. Agitation thrummed through my veins. The fuck is this? I ripped my helmet off, and the guards stationed at the entrance went rigid. The lazy smiles they’d been wearing disappeared like they’d just seen a ghost. They feared me more than they feared my father. Smart. Another guard emerged from the security booth, barely sparing a glance at my bike—or me.

“Boss.” He gave a sharp nod before pressing the button to release the heavy locks.

One day, I’d burn this place to the ground. The house that sat at the center of the compound was a fucking monstrosity. Ostentatious and hollow. A monument to a man who thought he was untouchable. Who thought he was king, but it was me who kept him in power.

When I took over, I’d dismantle his empire piece by piece. Not because I wanted it. I never had. But because he did. He spat bullshit about birthright and legacy, acting like we were some kind of royalty. All I wanted was the kill. The hunt. The raw, visceral thrill of power.

I’d never cared about anyone. Never given a shit about their lives. Until now.

Bernard—the only man in this house I had even an ounce of respect for—opened the door as I hit the bottom step. “Your father is in his office, but he’s?—”

A shrill, nasal voice cut through the air, echoing down the hallway.Brielle.The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a snarl curling my lips. Fucking. Brielle.

Berny laid a warm hand on my shoulder, the only person who could touch me and live to see another day.

“Not today,” he murmured. “Her time will come. You have other matters to handle first.” His voice was calm, calculated—a reminder.

Berny always knew more than he should. Always had his ear to the ground. He never spoke of his loyalties, but I’d long suspected they lay with me, not my father.

I exhaled sharply, the rage simmering beneath my skin, begging to be unleashed. “Doesn’t mean I can’t put the fear of God into her.”

A rare, cruel smile ghosted over his lips. “That it doesn’t, sir.”

Brielle’s voice made my blood boil. I moved silently down the hall, footsteps light, muscles coiled tight. My father’s office door was cracked open just enough for me to glimpse inside.

I should’ve expected the filth I’d find. Brielle, draped across his lap like the pathetic, desperate whore she was.

“It’s a hundred grand, Federico,” she purred, running her fingers down his chest. “It won’t be hard to get the will adjusted. Brock’s gottenmuchbetter at that kind of thing. And her prognosis is bleak.”

His mother. I went still, rage sharpening into somethingcolder.

My father hummed, considering. “How long?”

“The doctors said months. But,” she cooed, pressing a kiss to his throat, “A prognosis can be wrong. Months are made up of weeks, after all.”

Fucking snake. She thought she was smart. That she could play my father, bend him to her will. She didn’t realizehewas playingher.

“What about your nephew?”

I clenched my jaw, the muscles twitching violently.

She sighed, exasperated. “That weird little freak?”

A mistake. My switchblade was in my hand before I even realized it.

“He’s not going to be a problem,” she continued, flicking her fake blonde hair over her shoulder. “I sent him away the moment he arrived. He was staying at the shelter on Clayburn until I paid Tilly off. So fuck knows where he is now.” She snorted. “Probably the streets. He won’t last long out there.”

Wrong. Dead.Fucking. Wrong.

My father smirked. “And the trust fund?”

“Oh, he doesn’t have a clue,” Brielle laughed. “That’s the best part of it. He’ll never know it’s missing.”

“You can’t miss what you never knew existed.” My father gripped her jaw, dragging her in for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

Bile burned the back of my throat. I couldn’t take another second. I kicked the door open, storming inside. They jumped apart like guilty fucking teenagers.

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