Page 68 of The Kings
The screen lights up,and Dad’s face fills the frame, all grim lines and shadows. “James,” he says without preamble, “I’ve got two minutes before I go dark.”
I nod, knowing that come rain or shine, Dad calls, even if it’s only for two minutes. I don’t know much about his target today, but you can bet your ass it’ll be in the news tomorrow.
“You look like you’re about to throw something. What’s up?”
Glaring at him, I give myself a second to debate whether I should say it; in the end, frustration wins. “I’m pissed off that Damon Hughes is dictating to me.”
Dad’s eyes narrow. “Oh?”
“This little prick here needs eliminating. He is only going to become a serious pain in everyone’s ass if he lives, and yet, Hughes says no, Eliza needs to deal with it.”
“Why her?”
I blink. “He’s been giving her grief. Set a trap, and she could’ve been hurt or killed if Tarq hadn’t been with her.”
“So it’s personal.”
“Yeah,” I grit out.
“Then stand down, James. Damon Hughes called it. No interference.”
“Like hell,” I growl, the urge to protect her twisting inside me like a knife, coupled with the irritation that Hughes is pretty much telling me what to do.
“James.” He leans closer, and his voice drops to a harsh whisper. “You know what she is capable of. Damon needs her to do this by herself, or he wouldn’t have said it.”
“But why the fuck are we taking orders from him?”
“That’s your issue. James, I know it’s complicated, but the alliance...”
“The alliance is a ticking bomb,” I snap. “Four families, all vying for power, smiling through gritted teeth. It’s a matter of time before it all goes to shit.”
“Well, okay, then. guess you’ve been sitting on that a while.” Dad rolls his eyes, making me snicker for a second.
“Every single one of us knows it. This agreement,” I practically spit out the last word, “It’s just a fancy word for a ceasefire. When it ends—and it will—Eliza, me, and the other guys will be right in the middle of it. The next gen forced to choose between each other and our families.”
“Which is exactly why she needs to be ready,” Dad argues, his voice steel-hard.
“Ready or not,” I shoot back, “I don’t like it. Not one bit.”
His expression hardens, mirroring mine. “We play the game, or we die. That’s how this world works.”
“Then we better be damn good at playing,” I mutter, the bitterness of our reality leaving a sour taste in my mouth.
“Exactly.” The seconds tick by, heavy and loaded. Dad’s eyes flick to something off-screen, his face unreadable. “James, listen. The tide is shifting?—“
“Shifting?” I interrupt, leaning closer. My gut twists with unease.
“Something big is coming,” he continues, each word measured, urgent. “Watch your back. Be ready for what comes next.”
“Ready for what?” I demand, but the line cuts off, and there will be no further contact until this time next week.
“Fuck,” I snarl, standing up and kicking the chair away from me. Whatever the fuck this is, I’m betting it has to do with whatever has got Eliza in a downward spiral.
“This ends,” I murmur and stride down the hallway, my footsteps silent on the thick carpet. My mind’s in overdrive, replaying Dad’s last words and wondering what fresh hell is waiting for us around the corner. But right now, there’s one thing I need to do—check on Eliza and see if she’s ready to talk about what happened at her dad’s house.
I hesitate for a fraction of a second before I knock softly. “Eliza? It’s James.”
No answer. Not good.
