Page 170 of Cruel Devotion

“Oh.” She turned to me. “So, this is the battle between the East and the West?”

“Yeah.” I blinked. “You know about that?”

“Well. . .I happen to have. . .checked out your history.”

Secret, hidden history.

I chuckled. “Then, tell me what happened?”

“Back in the day, your father was able to make great sales to the West. They always bought his weapons and even gave him big bonuses to remain his sole customers. That happened for a while.”

Duck definitely gave her the ancient texts. But I’m impressed that she read it all.

A wicked grin spread across my face. “So if everything was fine, then what would make them battle?”

“The Killer Crows didn’t mind buying guns from Leo but when he eventually rolled up to Paradise City with hundreds upon hundreds of people and started settling them in the East, it made the Killer Crowsverynervous.”

“It’s the odd nature of humans to always want to hoard resources, territories, and possessions.”

She shook her head. “Yeah, but the Killer Crows also had a bit of PTSD from others coming through and destroying their ancestors’ homes.”

That was always Dima’s response. Interesting. Maybe, he will be a good advisor for her after all.

She continued, “Then add that Leo appeared to the Killer Crows to have a never-ending supply of guns, explosives, and ammunitions.”

“It terrified them.”

“It did.” She gazed back at the canvas. “So Leo and many others from the East gave the West a little Pow Pow to make them chill out.”

I quirked my eyebrows. “Pow Pow?”

“It’s when yourespectfullykick someone’s ass. Basically, they’re bugging so you want to put them in their place, but you also want to be friends afterwards. Therefore, you don’t take it too far.”

I laughed.

“What?”

“That’s a good summary of what they did.”

Smiling, she gently shoved my side. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“But you’re right. It was a little Pow Pow. No one died, but many were injured. However, soon they were back to being buddies again.”

Monique’s eyes traced the fierce expressions of the dragons. “This painting is both terrifying and beautiful.”

To my shock, sadness hit my chest. “My father’s a great artist.”

“What?” Monique glanced at me. “Stop it. Leo painted this?”

I pointed to the signatureLEOin the corner, written in a deep, vibrant gold. “He did every painting in this hall.”

“No fucking way.” She scanned the space. “These are all masterpieces.”

“They are.”

“He should have gone into the art world.”

“That had been the plan when he was young, but then he saw my mother. . .” I guided us away.

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