Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“You sleep well?” I ask, winking at her.
“Fine.”
She drinks a bottle of water, wrapping her arms around her body protectively. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but I already know. She wants justice served and I don’t have it in me to tell her that that might take a little longer than she was expecting.
Instead, I lean over, wrapping my fingers around the legs of her chair and pull her toward me. “Talk.”
Her eyes come to mine, and then she smiles, flashing me every fucking fake emotion she possibly could. “I’m fine.”
I laugh. “No, the fuck you ain’t…”
“Nate…” Bishop growls beside me.
I wave him off, going back to my pancakes and watch as she leaves the room.
“We need to talk about what’s going to happen on Friday…” he continues.
I lick my front teeth. “Why would he call a meet so soon?”
Brantley shoves his empty plate away, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. “It can’t be good, and he specifically asked for Tillie to be present.”
“Bishop,” I growl, and the table falls silent.
Bishop’s eyes come to mine. “I know, brother, but I can’t. We can’t be reckless with it, either. You will get your revenge, but give me a minute.”
I swing my head back, my eyes catching the roof. Did he give my fucking innocent baby girl a minute? I come back to reality, my eyes landing on Brantley.
He kisses his two fingers and throws them up slightly. Baby Kay. It’s our thing. When she passed, it was our thing to do that.
“Fine,” I grumble, swallowing the entire contents inside my glass. “But we need a plan and we need one fast.”
I want to say that I want my shit ended on Friday. I want to fucking hand his ass to him on a silver platter, but I know it won’t happen. Not only because Bishop is being sensitive about it, but because he’s right. It’s going to take more than us wanting revenge to actually obtain our revenge, and we are Kings. The mother fucking Elite. The monsters people whisper about in fear because they’re too afraid to say our name out loud.
He will get his retribution.
It’s coming, but when it does—my eyes snap to Bishop, who is already watching me. Is that why he’s stalling too? He’s not ready? Because when we do go through with a plan, it’ll be Bishop who will be taking the throne.
“And then there are The Rebels, rubbing up against Tillie…” Eli reminds us, and my eyes flash with rage.
Bishop sits silently across the table. “That’s a plan that needs to go into motion. Remember, everything that we do from here is for our plan.”
Bishop’s phone starts ringing and he snatches it off the table, his eyebrows furrowing. He swipes it and presses it to his ear. “Yeah?”
Silence. I lick the maple syrup off my fingertips slowly as we all try to listen in.
“Why?” he asks, his eyes narrowing in on me. “Yeah. Okay. Are you going to tell me why the erratic schedule with this meet?” Must be Hector, my eye twitches. “Alright. I’ll wait to hear back.” Then he hangs up before announcing, “He called it off. We are to wait for further instructions.”
“I’m just going to say it,” Ace mutters, tossing the crust of his toast onto the middle of the table. “I’m too old for this shit and totally fucking get why Saint bounced.”
We don’t speak, and Brantley flinches at the mention of that name. He and Saint were cool, so I know it has nothing to do with that. Weird motherfucker.
“Saint is fine…” Bishop nudges his head. “He’s happy.”
“Well fuck, I want me some happy too!” Ace smirks, just as Bailey comes padding into the kitchen, groaning. She flicks the coffee pot on and leans over the sink, her mess of hair sticking up all over the place.
“You all right there, Bails?” I ask, smirking.
She flips me off.
Tillie
Later that night, we’re all chilling around the bonfire, roasting marshmallows and drinking mulled wine. I have Chase sitting between my legs on the ground and I’m halfway through French braiding his hair, his broad shoulders pressed between my thighs. Tash Sultana is playing through the sound system and everyone is lost in their talks. I look up to catch Nate watching me with every tighten on the braid.
“Pretty sure he’s jealous,” Chase murmurs, so only I can hear. “Pretty sure he’s about to kill me.”
I roll my eyes, finishing off his braid and tapping his shoulder. “He will live.”
They told me today that Hector had canceled the meet until further notice, and as much as that news should have settled my nerves, it didn’t. It only intensified the fact that I need my revenge. I understand revenge, though, probably more than Nate. I was raised in a world where people were cruel to me. It toughened my willpower to wait for the right time to strike, instead of lashing out at every person who does me wrong. Hector will get his at the right time, because it needs to be done right. And I still want to know why. Aside from getting me to Perdita, why did he need me to have nothing to live for? We drink more, dance a little, and Bailey pulls out her little camera again. Later that night we all settle back into our beds, but I’m restless. Bailey is snoring softly beside me, already deep in her sleep when I fling the blankets off my body and head for the door.