Page 86 of The Broken Queen
Presley had grown up helping in those soup kitchens, alongside us. She had handed out backpacks and went shopping for school supplies just like we had when the inner-city schools would notify my family of various needs.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Gio answered somberly.
The thick lump in my throat was all the shame I still carried over this topic and the truth that was too painful to confront. “There isn’t anyone left to help them. It’s all gone now. Whatever is left will run on what money our parents have left to keep it going. There are various donations and things that were made that they’ll ensure get stretched as far as possible, but it’s all over, and it’s because of us.”
“You can’t put that weight on yourselves.” Presley chided, but it didn’t matter.
“It’s the truth,” I explained evenly.
Presley sat up and pressed her back to the wall, bringing her knees up under her chin.
“There must be a way to make the men go back and do what they used to for your father. Can’t you just redesign the same nonprofit plan that your parents made?”
Gio shook his head before bringing his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “They have a bloodlust for this life. They don’t want to help; they want security, power, and money. Moving drugs and weapons gives them that.”
Presley forced her lips together before she let out a sigh. “Well, I think all they need is motivation. There must be a way you can do both. Run the drugs but use the money to protect the inner-city kids.”
I pulled her ankle, forcing her back down to the bed.
“You have a good heart,mi reina.”
She smiled up at me. “It’s made up of all the best pieces of you…” She glanced over at Gio and finished, “And you.”
“Do you want to help us bring El Peligro back to the vision our father had, then?”
Presley nodded. “I do.”
“Then we will,” I promised her before pressing my mouth to hers once more.
The following morning,I stared down at how Presley was curled into my brother’s chest and considered what I had last night. Her need for vengeance wasn’t purely based on Adrian, and the number of times she’d asked us to just trust her had something tugging at my conscience. She needed us, and more than just romantically or physically. She needed her best friend’s. Just like we needed her to give us hope that we could somehow come back from all that we’d done to ruin our father’s legacy.
Gio looked peaceful as his jaw fit over the top of Presley’s head, tucking her close. He wouldn’t agree with me, and once I talked to her about this, he’d be pissed. Especially after his argument with Presley last night.
I decided to wait until we drove home to say anything. March was warmer than I anticipated, with the sun shining and the warmer air blowing through the open car window. Once we arrived at the farmhouse, Presley went to shower. Gio went to check on all the animals, and I went to find some food. About an hour later, I found her out in the backyard watering our flower beds. She wore a cotton dress with her egg apron tied around her waist, looking relaxed and happier than I’d ever seen her. Her hair was up, revealing her long neck, and I realized she had several of the chickens roaming around the yard with her while she tossed them feed.
“Hey,” I called. I walked up behind her, pressing a kiss to her neck.
Turning around with a smile, she leaned into me. “Hey.”
“Come sit with me.” I tugged her hand and walked over to the porch swing.
She leaned into me while the swing rocked us, and the sun broke through the clouds overhead. A few trees nearby had begun sprouting buds and moss. It brought me immense joy seeing all of this here for Presley to enjoy. Her dream house had been completed, she had farm animals, and now, defeating Scotty might finally bewithin reach.
“I know last night was not about Adrian, and finding them is not about what Gio mentioned.”
She shifted against me while looking down at her nails. “No, it wasn’t.”
“I know this is about what he took from you. The miles he forced you to run as a nine-year-old. The smell of that ointment that clung to you when your knuckles broke open and healed. The fear he instilled inside you that your whole world would end if you didn’t become the perfect weapon.”
Her hand came up to dab under her eye. “Fuck, King. Warn me next time you’re going to just dig in like that.”
I kissed the top of her head. “That’s why I’m going to tell you this, and I’m going to respect what you do with it.”
Blue, vibrant eyes found mine in an instant, searching for what I’d say next.
“I asked Henry to look into the whereabouts of Scotty and Markos.”
She sat forward, pressing her feet to the floor. “And?”
