Page 143

Story: Princes of Ash

Her throat jumps with a swallow. “Just… be careful.”

The words burn like a brand into my chest. I’ve gone into a lot of stupid situations half-cocked and ready to set the world on fire. This may be the only time I’ve really felt like I’ve had something to come back to.

That’s why I lunge forward, taking her mouth in a long, self-indulgent kiss. I’ve had brothers for fourteen years, and the way I feel about them is absolute—never a question. But this tightly woundthingin my chest is breathtakingly intense in a way I’m not used to.

I’d kill for my brothers.

But I’d die for her and our son.

When I drag myself away, her eyes have become glazed and dark, reflecting the headlights of a car passing in the distance. “I’ll be careful,” I promise.

I lock her in and step away from the car, tucking my gun into the back of my pants. There’s no doubt he’s already seen me out here. There’s no location, other than the palace and the Gentlemen’s Chamber, with as many security measures in Forsyth. This is why I’m unsurprised when the door opens before I even have a chance to knock.

“Pace,” Charlie says, eyes bloodshot, hair matted and flat, “brother, what are you doing here—”

Using both hands, I drive Charlie across the entry and slam him with both hands into the opposite wall. “I’m not your fucking brother.” Twisting my fists in his t-shirt, I lift him off the ground.

“Hey!” Charlie’s eyes dart around, looking for an out as he squirms against the wall. His foot kicks at my shin. “Pace, whatever this is about, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”

My nostrils flare as I seethe, “I know what you did.”

“Know what?” But I see the flicker of panic in his eyes.

My fists tighten. “I thought a bullet through the hand would be proof enough that I’m not interested in playing games.” I grab his wrist and force his hand open, showing the knotted and gnarled spot. The new skin is pink, and still healing. Too bad this motherfucker won’t get to see it finish. “Who are you working for? Is it the Dukes?”

“I only work for your dad!” Charlie insists.

“Bullshit!” I yank him forward only to slam him back, his head cracking against the wall. “You penetrated my system on April twentieth. Tell me why!”

He barks, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” But when I pull my gun out, shoving it into the meaty part of his shoulder, all the blood drains from his face. “Okay, okay, I got in! But I was just testing security—”

My move is quick. Precise. I slip the six-inch blade out of the sheath and press the gleaming metal against his throat “No one told you to test security.”

“Whoa!” Facing down both a blade and a barrel, his eyes are eyes wide, full of fear. “Calm down, man. I admit it, okay? I-I-I was in the system, but it’s just a side hustle.”

“A side hustle, that coincides with the date someone broke into the Palace. Those odds don’t happen.” I let the tip of the blade press into his skin. He winces, and I ignore the dribble of blood sliding down his neck. “You better start getting very clear, very fast, or the Barons will have to dispose of your body in two pieces.”

“Fuck man, you know how much that kind of footage goes for on the market?” When all I do is stare, he grits through gnashed teeth, “I blurred your faces!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask, trying to connect the date of the break-in to what he’s saying. Then it clicks. “What the hell have you done, Chuck?”

“Pregnancy porn,” he huffs, face pale. “I just wanted into your system to find some juicy vids, alright? It had nothing to do with that other thing. If you want a cut, I get it. Twenty percent?”

I’ve got to give the Bruins their due.

There’s hardly any recoil when I press the trigger.

The shot rings loud, and almost instantly, Charlie begins wailing, his face all twisted up. When I let him go, he folds into a sad heap on the floor.

“You shot me!” he screams, clutching his bloody shoulder. “Again!”

“Wonder which limb I’ll go for next time?” I rack the slide, pointing the barrel downward. “Kneecap?”

Charlie winces as he struggles to his feet, a sluggish trickle of blood streaming down his ridiculous Hawaiian shirt. Behind him, the bullet is embedded in the wall. A clean pierce. “Youshotme over selling a few videos of your pregnant bitch?!” His voice is high-pitched, unbelieving. “Videos I know for fucking sure you beat off to on the regular.” Then the fucker smirks. “Want to see a video of it? I’m sure I’ve got one somewhere.”

I raise the gun, ready to end this.

“Oh my god.”

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