Page 69 of Raziel
“It’s her, isn’t it?” she whispered, the words tearing from her throat. “That trash. Maya.”
My eyes, which had been scanning the room with bored detachment, snapped to hers. The indifference vanished, replaced by a glacial coldness. “Disrespect her again,” I said, my voice dangerously hard. “I dare you.”
She flinched but held her ground, tears now streaming down her cheeks, carving paths through her perfect foundation. “You think I don’t know? You think I don’t have people who tell me things? You’re humiliating me for some… some junkie who’s probably spread her legs for half of South St. Pete! For drugs. I won’t let her off for this.”
I was in front of her in two strides, not touching her, but looming. “From this day forward, you will leave her alone,” I hissed, the calm utterly gone. “You will not look at her, you will not speak her name, you will not even think about her. Do you understand me? Or do I need to remind you who her sister is married to? Or should I remind you of who I am? Not your father’s lapdog. Not your fucking puppet prince. Who I really am. Who I’ve always been.”
The color drained from her face. For a heartbeat, there was only fear in her eyes. Then, as if she realized fear was a currency I wouldn't accept, her spine stiffened. Her fear curdled, right in front of me, into a desperate, last-ditch anger. I smiled. Cold. Cruel.
“You’re a coward,” she spat, her voice shaking with vitriol. “A coward who can’t keep a promise to his dead mother! Acoward who runs from the power your own father is handing you! He offered you everything! A crown!
“Threats from you mean nothing, Raziel, because you’re too scared to take the throne you were born to sit on. And Priest? He’s no more powerful than my father. He’s a loud, messy thug who's only powerful because men like my father haven't bothered to put him in his place!”
I didn’t react. The insults
slid off me. Her tears, her rage—it was all just noise. Theater. I felt nothing but a profound, weary need to be gone from this room.
“You done?”
Her chest heaved.
“Yeah,” she seethed. “I’m done watching you throw your legacy away on trash.”
I took a breath.
Then I smiled again.
She saw my indifference, and it broke her completely. She stumbled back, sobbing now, ugly and raw. “My father will hear about this! He will not let this stand! You’ll regret this, Raziel! You’ll regret throwing me away!”
A low, humorless laugh escaped me. It was a cold, empty sound that made her blood run cold.
“Tell him,” I said, turning my back on her and walking toward the door. “Tell your father whatever you want. Just know that if anything happens to her, even a whisper, I’ll make sure your family tree ends with you. And move out of my fucking house before I return to it, Please.”
I didn’t look back. I opened the door and stepped out into the evening air, leaving her standing amidst the ruins of our arrangement, her sobs echoing. The door clicked shut behind me, a period at the end of a sentence I should never have written.
Chapter Thirty- Maya
Miyori was dressed like Polly Pocket, in a bright pink, flowery sundress and apron, playing in her flowers when I pulled up.
I took my time getting out, making a show of adjusting my new sunglasses before leaning against the doorframe. The metal was warm against my back.
She got up, brushing her dirty hands on the apron she was wearing. “Whose car is that, Maya?” Her voice was tight, the way it gets when she’s trying to be the adult in the room.
“Mine,” I said, “Like it?”
“Whose car, Maya?” she repeated.
I pushed the sunglasses onto my head. “Relax, sis. It’s not stolen.” I had stolen a car before, so I couldn’t even blame her. I paused and let it hang just long enough to see her anxiety spike. “Raziel’s father bought it for me.”
The shift in her face was almost comical. First, slack-jawed disbelief, then a hardening into pure, unadulterated anger.
“You can’t keep it.”
“The hell I can’t. It’s in my name,” I said, lifting my chin.
She shook her head. “Just last week you hated Raziel! You said he was an unfeeling motherfucker!” Her voice was rising,getting that shrill edge that meant a full-blown Miyori Meltdown was incoming.
“Okay?” I shot back, my tone sharp enough to cut glass. “I like him now. And that has nothing to do with the car. His daddy felt generous. I felt like accepting. End of story.”
