Page 119

I go tense, keeping my face carefully blank. He’s building toward something, and I can see it before he says it.

“My apologies, Cordelia.” He turns back to me, triumph gleaming in his eyes. “My wife’s death was not an accident. She was murdered. And her killer stands among us.”

The room erupts. I barely hear the uproar—my mind is already sprinting ahead, assembling the puzzle I should have solved sooner.

“What are you saying?” James Tartt hisses out.

My father’s voice slices through the noise. “Rowan, would you like to tell them, or shall I?”

All eyes shift to me. I draw a quiet breath, unclenching my fists, only to clench them again. Xander shifts beside me, a subtle step forward.

Protective.

“You all know Zaina demoted our third son two years ago,” my father continues. “He resented her for it, blamed her for his failures. So, he plotted against her.”

My heart pounds against my ribs, a sharp boom against my chest but I bite it down, tilting my head. “Are you suggesting I killed my own mother?”

His smile is like a razor. “The evidence speaks for itself.”

At his gesture, a guard steps forward with an envelope. My father retrieves it slowly, theatrically, pulling out pages.

“These are records of payments made from Rowan’s accounts. One, to a mechanic who serviced Zaina’s car—just days before her death.”

I don’t flinch. But inside, everything coils tight. I hear my own laugh because of course, how could I be such an idiot?

“So, it’s you,” I say. “You’re the one behind Haze. You killed Hawthorne, Daniel Tang, Trist. All of them. It’s been you all along.”

He smirks; eyebrow raised. “What are you talking about, Rowan?”

“This is your coup. You pin this all on me, maybe Hayden and Xander too then clear the way for your own nomination. Remove us from the picture, and suddenly, you’re the only option left.”

“You sound insane,” he shoots back.

I tilt my head. “Then tell me, why Haze? Why go through all that trouble for a drug that is killing people?”

Around us, the sanctum has descended into chaos. Members of The Keepers speak between themselves. The paper my father was holding being passed around the room, but I know that flimsy evidence won’t hold up for shit.

“You’re delusional,” my father says, looking as unaffected as I’m trying so hard to sound. “Your mother cast you aside. You retaliated by murdering her.” He turns to the rest of the room, voice rising. “If he could betray his own blood, what makes you think he won’t betray you?”

“He’s lying,” Hayden grits out from where he stands.

Another loud spring of debate erupts. Some are nodding at my father’s words now that he’s tugged on their biggest insecurities. Some look on with doubt, but I can tell my father is swaying them. I need to get a handle on this quick.

“If you’ll give me the chance, I can show you the payments made from his account, the messages, and all the secret conversations.” He makes another gesture and the guard who handed him that paper hands the Keeper beside him an envelope. Kingston White, my mother’s second Enforcer.

I keep my face neutral, watching faces contort and shift, the uneasy buzz settling over the room. I want to reach over to my father and kill him with my bare hands. I want him writhing on the floor as I choke the life out of him. Hate I have kept hidden over the years seems to rise to the surface all at once, a volcano ready to erupt.

Next to me, I know Xander feels the same. I know more than anyone he wants our father dead for everything he did to him, but we can’t kill him here. Firstly, no weapons are permitted in the sanctum and secondly, if I kill him, that will only decrease my legitimacy.

I need The Keepers to side with me willingly, show them that my father has lost his mind, that he is the one who is guilty, not me

I meet his gaze now, letting the murmurs continue. “No need to bother yourself, Kingston,” I murmur, letting my shoulders relax. The old man with deep brown skin looks up at me, surprised. “All you’ll find in there are fabricated bank statements, or some artificially made recording of my voice, maybe even a transcript of a supposed conversation I had with this mechanic. There will be no photographic evidence, no video, nothing, just made up lies.”

Kingston fishes out a paper, reading it over his face solemn. I smile, because he knows I’m right. “You all realise what this is, don’t you?” I continue, turning to look at my father.

His face twists. “And what, pray tell, isthis, Rowan?”

“It’s everything you’ve just accused me of. A desperate attempt to seize power,” I say simply, taking a step forward. My shoes echo softly against the granite floor. “You’ve always wanted this, wanted what we had. Is that why you beat us, flayed our backs until they were bloody and raw, all because you knew you could never have a sniff of the power we would eventually wield? Did you feel emasculated because she was The Head of The Snake and not you? She made you her bitch, and it drove you insane.”