Page 9

9

NATHANIEL

T he sun is rising as I pull D’s Bugatti into my driveway. Regardless of the events of the last twelve hours, I didn’t care to give the car back yet.

Passing Elijah’s, I notice his vehicle is still gone. He and Thomas were whispering about something before I left the warehouse for the hospital. I’m not sure Thomas is ready for Elijah, but it doesn’t seem like he has a choice now.

A warm feeling fills my chest—it’s pride. Has my son made a friend?

Besides Rain, Elijah hasn’t cared enough to let anyone in. My excitement could be premature; Thomas still has time to become pig food, but I’m hopeful. Elijah is changing. And I get to witness it.

My eyes begin to well, but I shake it off. I’m exhausted, but the day is only beginning. I’ll cry later, in the shower, where there aren’t any witnesses. Cameras surround the compound, and Rogers is likely watching the feed.

Climbing out of the car, the fresh morning air dances on my skin. Inhaling deeply, it reinvigorates me. The exhaustion I felt moments ago washes away. A cool breeze follows, sneaking underneath my opened dress shirt. Taking my glasses off briefly, I squeeze the bridge of my nose before placing them back on my face and walk inside.

“Rogers! Coffee and food. I’m going to need all the fuel I can get today, old man,” I shout into the foyer.

Tiny footsteps pull my attention to the second-floor banister.

Rylee looks disheveled, her hair a mess, and wearing one of my gray tees, which is like a dress on her. With tired eyes, she looks down at me. I’m pleased she’s still here.

Perhaps more than I should be. But my feelings don’t matter right now.

Clearing my throat, my voice is scratchy. “Everything is going to be okay. But first the earth will crack open and the fire of hell will escape. You will need your rest. Please, I insist you go rest your eyes while you can.” Rylee’s head tilts slightly at my cryptic statement, shaking her head in confusion, but she listens and walks back toward her room. My eyes linger on her petite, pale legs until they disappear down the hall.

Once she’s gone, I look down at my ticking gold watch. They will be here any minute; I must prepare.

Greta was first to arrive, with a lit cigarette hanging out of her mouth. She didn’t make a fuss, not wanting to alarm her granddaughter of her arrival. Another reason why I know Rylee doesn’t know shit about the Antichrist.

Elijah had the opposite approach, with his bat dragging along the floor behind him and followed by Rain and Thomas.

D will be joining on speaker phone as he isn’t leaving Cecilia’s side at the hospital, and I don’t blame him.

Rogers is last to enter, closing the door behind him. This is a need-to-know meeting, inner circle only.

And right now, I could go off. Absolutely crucify whoever was directly responsible for watching Cecilia, but we can’t turn against each other now by playing the blame game. We have to be united. And I know Greta can handle her crew internally. They will suffer because this mistake is unforgivable.

My feet are resting on the hardwood desk, and the first thing I say wakes everyone up. “We are killing the King.”

An awkward silence fills my office.

My eyes shift, wondering if the words I said weren’t actually spoken out loud, so I repeat myself. “We are killing the King.”

Greta pipes up. “We heard you the first fucking time.”

Rain giggles into her hand. She keeps it real among all this seriousness.

“Hm, yes, Duke. We have some new intelligence since the events of last evening,” Rogers stammers. I look at him, waiting for him to continue. Instead, he begins rummaging through his folder, pulling out one piece of paper and approaching me with it.

I take it, and at the same time Greta asks, “Which King are you talking about? Because that one is very fucking dead.”

It’s Brad’s property.

At the end of his driveway, before the large gate, is a wooden stake, and on top of it is Brad’s head.

Confirmed. Brad is dead. Dalton and his crew of merry imbeciles are likely responsible.

“The new self-declared one, Dalton,” I say, unamused.

Rogers interjects, “Darian, the photo should be to you now.”

D grunts, his way of saying, Thank you .

“They know we are connected to the Antichrist now. There’s no going back. We have to be strategic—no room for error. Greta, you and your team are officially a massive fucking target.” They were before, but it’s elevated now that he knows D and I are officially with them.

“He will try and hit you where it hurts. Protect yourself and your people at all costs. Whatever you need, my resources are at your disposal.” I pause as she nods in understanding, then continue. “And with the new chief of police appointed, it’s hard to say what that pile of incompetence is capable of. They are unhinged and unpredictable. Look what they did to Cecilia!” I shout, slamming my fist down, pounding on my desk. My blood is boiling as images of her body hanging on that cross flash across my vision.

I then see Thomas startle from the corner of my eye. Elijah is smiling, sharp canines bared, begging to be released into the wild to play.

Looking at my son, I say, “We can’t just attack them. They expect us to retaliate, and we will lose if we do. Instead, we wait. Lure them to us. Doing nothing will only infuriate them, causing a reaction. They will assume we are sitting fucking ducks again. We aren’t. We will

simply be more deadly when they come to our house. Elijah, work with our men; discreetly prepare the compound and any other of our trusted properties. They could be watching, so we need to act as normal as possible. I’ll give Ryder and his crew a heads-up. Maybe work out a deal in case we need reinforcements.”

Closing my eyes, I take a breath in. “We must never show weakness. If there’s one thing I know, weakness is a delicious meal that people like me and people like him feed on.”

Elijah wastes no time. Rising, he barks, “Thomas, come.”

I look toward Rain, who is looking back at me, mouthing, “Oh my God,” while silently chuckling.

“Don’t worry, E, I’ll be fine here,” Rain jokes sarcastically. A language my son doesn’t get.

His head rapidly turns at the sound of her voice. His expression is confused as he replies, “I know.”

Thomas, who is standing at attention, follows Elijah out.

“Rogers, anything suspicious, you tell me immediately,” I demand.

“Understood, Duke.” Rogers is next to leave. He has connections all over this town. Money and promises talk. He is also excellent at cyber security, so perhaps blackmail also plays a small part in his little bird’s loyalty.

Greta rises, not bothered that Rain is still with us, but she hangs my phone up on D before speaking further. “Nathaniel, keep her here. Please. Keep her safe.” Greta reaches her hand out, placing it on my forearm in comfort. She’s scared. I’ve never seen this side of her before.

I place my hand on top of hers. “I swear it. But you have to tell her.”

It’s not an ultimatum; it’s her right. I’d keep her safe regardless, but she deserves to know.

“I’ll do it this evening,” Greta promises, squeezing my arm in reassurance before following the others out.

“You look exhausted. Shower. Rest. I may need your help with Thomas’s body later. I can’t see Elijah tolerating him long-term," Rain jokes as she stands on her feet. I laugh. But I think we both secretly hope it’s not true.

The door closes behind her. I’m alone. At last.

Silence.