Page 49 of Cold and Broken (The Titans of Founder's Ridge 1)

I stand up and as I walk past Michael he stops me. “A word please.”

“Sure.” I follow him into his small office.

“What are your intentions with my daughter?” he asks with a no bullshit tone. I’m about an inch taller than him but I feel like I’m standing next to giant. He hasn’t been an active duty Marine for years but he still holds himself like one. The power he exudes seems to swirl around him. For the first time in my life I’m intimidated.

“Not sure what you mean by that, sir.” I go for indifference and boredom but he’s not buying it.

“You know exactly what I mean, son. I’m not stupid. I see how you look at her.”

“She’s beautiful, of course I’m going to appreciate that.” I meet his stare head on. “Honestly, I have done some fucked up things to her since you two moved here. I’ve owned up to them and I’m trying to atone for it.”

I look down at his desk and pick up a picture of a light haired woman holding a blonde baby that can only be Lilith. “Is this Lilith’s mom?”

“Yes.”

“She looks like her.” I set the picture down and look back up at him.

“Thank fuck the only thing she inherited from her mother was her looks.” He gives the photo a resigned sigh then he turns and grabs me by the shirt. I’m pushed up against the wall in less time than I can take a breath. “Hurt my daughter and I will fucking end you. I don’t care how much I like and respect your father.” He gives me a shake. “Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” He releases his grip. “I’m going to go see if she’s done talking with Zion.”

“Connor.” Michael calls as open his door to leave.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for watching out for her at your school. I always knew she was safe with Z back in Chicago. I’m glad to know she has you watching out for her here.”

I look over my shoulder at him and nod once.

15

Lilith

Books have always been one of my favorite things. As soon as I was old enough to ride my bike on my own, I would go into the local branch of the Chicago Public Library and lose myself in stories and worlds belonging to someone else. I worked my way up and down the rows of books, hungrily absorbing the words written. If I wasn’t with Z, I was at the library. My dad came to know the librarians by name when he’d call to see where I was.

It’s not a surprise that I can’t help but wander around the Volkov personal library after hanging up with Z. I trail my fingers along the rows of leather bound classics trying to understand the system they use for sorting their books. My fingers walk past American classics like The Great Gatsby, To Kill a Mockingbird, Fahrenheit 451, and Walden. As I move to the next wall, there’s Russian classics like The Brothers Karamazov, Fathers and Sons, Anna Karenina, and Life and Fate of Vasily Grossman.

The next wall is full of Brit Lit classics. I’m pretty sure I see everything Shakespeare wrote represented. Names like Orwell, Dickens, Austen, Tolkien, and Wilde. I’m leafing through an old copy of Pride and Prejudice when Connor walks up behind me. I jump when I hear his voice.

“That’s a first edition.” He points down at the shelf. “There are the other two volumes.”

“Holy shit.” I look up at him with wide eyes. “Shouldn’t these be in a museum or something?” I delicately push the priceless book back into place.

“Books should be read.” He shrugs. “We have an entire set of signed Harry Potter books somewhere around here, as well as some other first editions. Victor has the Russian classics in his office in Russian.”

“Does he know Russian?”

“Yes.” Connor raises an eyebrow at me. “His parents were both born in St. Petersburg. We all speak and read Russian.”

“Oh, wow. I only know Spanish.” And that’s really only because of some of my friends from school who spoke Spanish at home.

“I know Spanish, French, German, and Japanese as well.”

“Shit.” I feel ignorant and insecure now. “I guess that’s what the fancy east coast private school education gets you.”

“Well, I grew up bilingual so that helped but yes, one of the perks of being a rich kid.” He’s still wearing his uniform but removed his tie and jacket. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone hinting at the muscles in his chest. Why does he have to be smart on top of being devastatingly handsome.

“What are you thinking about?” he smiles at me.

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