Page 30 of Villainous Kingpin

She didn’t look good. Probably the reason she had stuck to the inside of the house. Waiting for her bruises to fade before she’d show her face in public.

Rage filled me at my own father’s brutality. It was one thing to beat men and torture traitors. It was something entirely different abusing the innocents that couldn’t fight back. My father was ten times stronger than Thalia, even at his age.

And Thalia was only twenty-five. She hadn’t done anything to deserve this.

He’d end up killing her one of these days, just as he killed Brennan’s sister. No wonder Liam hated our guts.

“Thalia, you should let us help you,” I whispered so low only she and Dante could hear.

She shook her head. “He’d kill my mother.”

I clenched my jaw. Thalia worried about her mother and that fucking bitch only thought about herself.

My phone buzzed and I slid the message open without checking who it’s from.

Wynter:I’m so sorry. I have to go out of town. Can we meet when I get back?

Me:Don’t be too long.

It had only been less than a half a day and I missed her already. I wanted her with me at all times. Albeit part of me knew that wouldn’t be possible. Not with my father around.

With the sound of footsteps that were unmistakably my father’s, I shoved the phone back into my pocket while Thalia quickly scurried away. She probably wanted to be anywhere but where my father was. Not that I could blame her.

“Ah, here you are.” His voice boomed over the large foyer. I really wasn’t in the mood to talk to him. This hate I had for him ran deep and it’ll never ease. Not until his dying breath.

He approached us, dressed in his three-piece-suit, no gun. He seemed so sure of himself that he believed he didn’t need it. It would be so damn easy to pull my gun and shoot him. Except, I knew his surveillance feed went directly to the Syndicate. Fucking sick bastard.

While he roamed around his house weapon free, I always had my gun on me. When I slept, it was either on my nightstand or under my pillow. You never knew when the attack was coming.

“You wanted to see us,” I told him coldly.

“Yes, let’s go into my office.” He turned around and headed down the hallways, which led to the back of the house where his office was. He expected us to follow him like dogs and I fucking hated it.

Dante and I shared the briefest of glances but said nothing. We knew better than to say anything in front of him.

Once in his office, I shut the door behind me and shoved both of my hands into the pockets of my pantsuit. It was easier to hide the urge to punch my father that way. I leaned against the marble ledge of the fireplace, keeping my composure relaxed and expression bored.

Dante did the same, except he sat down and rested his ankle on his knee as he leaned back in his chair with an equally bored expression.

My father sat behind his desk, his eyes darting between the two of us. He liked to show his power, as well as exercise it. Though he was too blind to see that it was slowly slipping through his fingers. He was too arrogant, too sure that he was invincible.

Neither Dante or I broke the silence. He wanted to see us squirm, but we weren’t little boys anymore. We had done and seen our share of brutality and silence didn’t bother us in the slightest. Except let me contemplate a few more creative ways to kill him.

I held his expression, hiding all my plans and turmoil deep down where he’d never see it. After all, I had two decades to perfect it. My old man liked to taunt and I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“The Russians attacked Brennan,” Father finally broke the silence, a benevolent smile on his lips. “They believe he has something of theirs.”

“What’s that?” I asked, hiding my curiosity behind a bored tone.

“A woman,” he muttered with a dark expression.

A woman would be my father’s downfall. Too bad she couldn’t get here already.

“I’m sure Brennan has many women at his disposal,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “Do we have specifics?”

“She’s the great-granddaughter of a powerful Pakhan,” he grumbled, bitterness in his voice. “Both her mother and her daughter are supposed to be dead.” Dante and I shared a glance, but neither one of us uttered a word. It was best not to let Father know we knew anything. “The rumor is that both mother and daughter are alive and well, hiding from the underworld. The Pakhan wants to get them back.”

“Why does it sound like you want to find them before the Pakhan?” I asked dryly.