Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
The senator attempted to stand, but Z’s firm hand on his shoulder forced him down. Reginald avoided eye contact while Andrew looked as if he’d pass out. Staten looked around, and when he finally noticed Reginald, his face twisted with rage.
“You son of a bitch! How can you just sit there? You assured me when you stole the book he’d be taken care of. Look at me,” he roared. He was a bloodied broken shell of the refined man who wanted me and my baby dead. “My son is dead because of your betrayal.”
No one moved or spoke. The only sound that could be heard was the senator’s heaving as he attempted to catch his breath.
“I think we have all we need,” Alistair slowly spoke. Reginald turned his scowl on him.
“You spit on Alexander when you side with him.”
“Alexander is the one who made these rules our family’s law. You disgraced him when you tried to frame Angeles.”
“I was righting the wrong his line did to this family. Angelo’s line has ruled for four generations while we sat back and did nothing. The Knighthood belongs to Andrew. He should be Alexander’s true heir.”
“I’m afraid that argument won’t save you from Angel’s mercy,” Ronald, another descendant of Alexander’s, answered. “If it’s all right with you, Angel, I’d like to go home now.”
I nodded and silently watched as everyone except Lucas, Alexander, and Z left.
“Angeles.” The senator said my name like a plea. “Let me go, son. You can’t simply kill a senator and expect no one to ask questions. They’ll trace my death to you.”
“Senator, I promise you, when I’m done, there won’t be anything left of you to find.” And my vow was meant for anyone who crossed me. My gaze swept the room, resting meaningfully on my traitorous kin.
Chapter Twenty-Four
MIAN
ANNA RELUCTANTLY DECIDED to return home after her mother reappeared. None of us liked it, but it was a decision she forced us to respect.
I hadn’t seen Angel in two days, but I didn’t regret the space. I was still figuring out how to confront him about my mother and had been focusing on not allowing hurt and anger to consume me. The morning after we saved Angel from being beheaded, I watched a report on the news about the perishing of Senator Henry Staten, his son, Aaron Staten, and girlfriend, Erin Andrews, after the home of the senator had burned down in an uncontrollable fire. Angel’s promise to not leave anything left of the Senator to find must have been what kept him away these past couple of days.
I was busy drawing a sketch on a legal pad I’d stolen from the library, something I hadn’t done in months, when Angel stepped out onto the patio looking like he needed a week’s worth of sleep.
“Hey,” he greeted.
“Hey.”
“I thought you might like to know that your friend, Becky, is alive. She was shot in the abdomen, but it went straight through without damaging anything.” I felt a tear slide down my face and quickly wiped it away.
“Thank you.” My voice shook, but I didn’t care. I wanted to see my friends again, but I knew it would never be possible. It was better this way. They were safe.
“Sam also received a package from me this morning.”
My lips parted, but no words came. I had to fight for them. “You paid them off?”
“I thanked them for taking care of you and Caylen,” he corrected. “And because she took a bullet for you.”
I turned away and ran my pencil over the sketch, darkening lines and creating more depth.
“You’re drawing again,” he observed as he took a seat next to me. I blushed when he took a peek at my sketch. It was a roughly drawn replica of him during one of those rare moments he never allowed anyone to see. Moments usually spent with me. “Have I ever told you how talented you are?”
I smiled feeling myself blush. “You don’t have to suck up. It’s just a hobby.”
“Have you considered doing nudes?”
“No.” I ran my pencil over Angel’s eyes, darkening them. “Most of my drawings are of my mother. I barely remember her before cancer so mostly I imagine how she’d look knowing she was going to live.” I wasn’t looking at him, but I could feel his reaction. When I did look at him, his eyes were empty though his jaw was set. He was never going to tell me the truth unless I made him. “Your father murdered my mother, didn’t he?”
“How did you—” His gaze narrowed. “You read the book?”
I slammed the pad down and stood up. “Then I guess we’re even.” I tried to walk away, determined to leave him once and for all, when his hand closed around my wrist. He was gentle, but his constant betrayal made his touch feel like acid.