Page 33 of The Clash of the Damned (The Titan Syndicate Saga #2)

Luca

“ D ad?” I shout from the front door, “I’m home!

” Pausing for a moment, I listen for his response, adding, “I can’t wait to tell you how my first day at Tao went!

” I’m met with silence. I quickly sort through some post left by the doorman.

Nothing seems urgent, so I leave it at the entryway to deal with later.

A little hurt that Dad hasn’t said anything, I drop my bag by the door with a thud and go looking for him, excited to tell him everything I learned from Silva.

When I left this morning, Dad had planned to cook us dinner so we could celebrate my first successful day at Tao, but I don’t smell anything yet.

In between this, he had grand plans to find a world cruise for him and Mom.

My parents, the ultimate power couple, have worked hard all my life, the Undead only know they deserve a break.

He probably got distracted by this cruise; it must be why he hasn’t started dinner yet.

Sighing out loud, I try not to let my irritation get to me.

I’m starving, and I’ve been looking forward to this all day .

Entering our kitchen, I find enchilada ingredients left out on the counter top, but there is no sign of Dad at the stove or perched over his laptop, looking at travel sites. The kitchen counter tops still gleams with disuse, and his laptop sits unopened on the chair where he left it last night.

I realize that something isn’t right. Dad’s cruise excitement aside–the table should be set, and we should be ready to eat.

He always prioritizes family meals; it’s his thing.

Every light in our penthouse is on full blast, even with the dimmer functionality.

Even as a human, Dad doesn’t need this much light.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

Taking off my heels, I leave them next to the kitchen counter so that my footsteps don’t give me away as my heart fills with dread.

A skirt is not ideal in a fight, so I pull it up to my waist so it doesn’t hold my movements back.

Agonizingly slowly, I go on the defensive, peering around the corner of each room on our ground floor–first the kitchen, then the study, and finally the living area–looking for Dad, waiting to see what it is that feels so out of place in our home.

Reaching the stairs, ready to climb them to search our second floor, it takes me a moment to register what I’m looking at because it’s so out of place.

My mind needs a moment to catch up. There is blood everywhere.

I don’t know if it’s confusion, shock, or a mixture of both that makes me freeze, but all I can do is stand there, trying to understand what I’m looking at.

Especially when I realize that Dad is somewhere under all that blood.

I don’t need my magical gifts to know that no human can survive that amount of blood loss.

Dad?

Dropping to my knees and sliding across the floor to get to him, I miscalculate and slip in his blood, hitting my head in a pool of it, which only adds to my shock.

It’s cold and congealing into thick, rust colored sludge.

The coppery scent of it is heavy on my tongue.

Trying my best to shake it off, I swallow the bile that hits the back of my throat with a sob, and I pull Dad into my arms. Judging by the stiffening, dead weight of his body, he’s been dead a few hours.

Logically, I know this. But everything about me isn’t logical.

I’m a fucking Supernatural; how do I even explain that?

“Wake up, Daddy, please. Don’t leave me. It’s not your time yet.”

He says nothing, because, well, he’s gone.

I know this, I do, but I keep using my magic anyway to see if there is some flicker of life left in him.

But there is just more of his blood everywhere, and I know there’s more blood outside his body than in.

Even then, I hope for a small chance. If anyone could find a loophole and survive the unsurvivable, it’s him.

After everything he went through to be with Mom, this can’t be how it ends?

Holding his body close to my chest, I let out an anguished sob.

It didn’t matter that he was human, he was the glue that held our family together.

Alejandro De Greer gave us nothing but joy, even when it seemed like there was none.

Looking at his body through my tear stained eyes, judging by the state of this place, I can tell he fought, and he fought hard.

My mind blanks out; I have no idea what to do with the body, with him, or anything.

Oh no, Mom.

Mom had been out scouting a potential new location for our empire, the last order of business before she was going to step back to spend more time with Dad, but now…

I’m going to have to tell her. But how do I call someone and tell them the love of their life has been murdered?

If I let Dad go now, that’s exactly what’s going to need to happen.

I don’t know if I’m ready, but the choice has been made for me .

Placing Dad’s body gently back on the ground, I stand from my position and wipe my eyes and nose with a blood free spot on my sleeve.

I don’t know what’s worse, waiting to tell her, or telling her when I’ve barely begun to process what’s happened myself.

I envy the extra moments she has where he’s still alive and safe in her world.

Locating my cell, I don’t give myself time to think about it, and I dial Mom’s number.

She answers after a few seconds and skips greetings. “Luca, can this wait? I’m about to step into an important meeting.”

Gulping, I try to figure out how to answer her. “Mom, I need you to find somewhere private. It’s urgent.”

Imagining the concern on her face, I hear her footsteps echoing through the call, followed by the sound of a door sliding closed. “I can give you a few minutes. What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until I was home?” She sounds more annoyed than anything, and I wish I didn’t have to say it.

My tears almost start again, but I have to keep it together. Tell her first, cry later. “It’s Dad…” My voice breaks despite my effort.

“What, Luca, tell me what’s going on?” The pitch in Mom’s voice becomes concerned.

“He’s dead.” I burst out crying, and I’m met with silence.

“No, he can’t be dead. I just spoke to him a few hours ago; he was planning our cruise. We’re supposed to go on a cruise.”

We’re jumping straight into denial, and I don’t blame her. Instinctively, I know there is going to be no room for me to grieve. If we’re going to make our way through this, someone is going to need to keep their emotions in check, and it sounds like that will be me.

“Mom, he’s been dead for a few hours, and I don’t know if whoever did this will come back. Who would want Dad dead? I didn’t even know this was something we needed to be aware of, otherwise I would have stayed home today to protect him.”

Mom clears her throat, as if she’s trying to stay in professional mode, and whispers, “One of the other Undead families wasn’t happy with how your father and I were running things, but I was able to keep them at bay.

Their child has come of age and has been pressuring for more influence, and I had to get… assertive.”

She swallows. “I had contingency plans in place for their retaliation, but I…I just never thought they would go for your father. Family is always off limits.” A sob escapes as she says the words out loud, and I can hear her make an effort to collect herself.

I can imagine she feels guilty for the lack of foresight on her part, but guilt won’t help us now, strategy will.

Surviving this is the only thing I allow myself to feel.

“Don’t touch anything. I will be home in a few hours. I need to see the body myself. Use your magic to preserve the scene, and stave off the smell if needed.”

I nod my head. I can’t find the words for my horror of referring to Dad as a body, but I realize she can’t see me. “Yes, Mom, I’ll do that.”

Another thought occurs. “Should I be worried that someone is going to come for me? Should I be prepared?” She collects herself long enough to confirm it’s a possibility, but with my access to magic, I should easily be able to defend from an attacker.

I’m the strongest Undead we’ve had in a long time.

Suddenly, our living room windows shatter–quite an achievement, considering how high up we are–and three unknown, but definitely Undead, masked figures, dressed all in black, jump into our living room.

Dropping my phone, I ignore Mom’s screech down the line as I prepare to battle.

I can’t decide if I should be honored they sent more than one Undead or insulted that they only sent three.

Focusing on the attacker closest to me–a man, I note, assessing his build–nothing remarkable about him stands out.

I release my claws and fangs and crouch on the ground, waiting for him to come for me.

Most people don’t expect much because of my size, but they always underestimate the speed that comes with my attack.

From my position, all it takes is a swipe of my claws at the first attacker’s achilles before he’s down for the count with a scream of pain.

I feel nothing for him. It’s kill or be killed, and I know which option I prefer.

Sprinting to meet the next attacker head on, I get as close as I possibly can without getting injured in the process.

He’s taller than me, so I have to use momentum as I jump and aim for his throat, ripping it out with my teeth.

Idiot, that’s an obvious move from the Undead; he should have protected his throat.

Two down, one to go.

Spitting out his gross, dirty blood, I focus on how to approach my remaining attacker.

He seems a bit warier of me, content to let the other two do the dirty work for him.

He clearly knows more about my reputation than the others.

I’m a bit more durable and a better fighter than most. The attacker and I meet each other head on, trading evenly matched blows, and he manages to get a few good shots in at my ribs.

Still in the flimsy materials of my work clothes, they offer me no protection, and all I can do is embrace the pain he dishes out until I find his weak spot. He’s bleeding, but I have no idea how.

Focusing my magic on his blood, I step out of his reach and hold him in place with his own blood.

Then I bleed him to death. As an Undead, he should have known this was a possibility.

He should have been smarter. Going back to my first attacker, I use my claws to slice his neck, and he bleeds out within minutes.

Safe for now, I go back to the phone I dropped. Mom is still shouting for me.

“Mom, I really need you to get home and help me. We’ve got three more bodies to add to the pile, and after that, we’re going to need to show this Undead family that we’re in charge, once and for all. ”