Chapter Twenty-Two
Bash
Pacing has become my religion.
Back and forth. Same path. Same threadbare patch of this goddamn blue and white carpet that mocks me like everything else in this cursed house.
This office used to be my sanctuary. Now it’s just a coffin I haven’t died in yet.
I used to be careful. Controlled. Surgical. No unnecessary noise. No slip-ups. But even Elders bleed eventually. Even monsters fall.
And I fucked up.
No use dancing around it. It’s not the power, or the name, or the wealth, I still have all three. It’s the perception. The control. The fucking fear . And I’ve lost it.
We were kings once.
Now I’m hiding in the goddamn shadows, like a stray dog chewing scraps from the bones of what we used to be.
And all because of her.
And him.
That bastard son of mine.
I clench my jaw so hard my molars ache. “I’m going to find you, Wyck. And when I do, you’re going to wish I had killed you the first time. You and that lying whore of yours. I’ll burn you both to ash.”
“Time’s ticking, Bash,” Archie’s voice cuts through my spiraling rage like a dull blade. “You said you’d have the money by now.”
“I will,” I snap. “I just need to deliver Athens. Once she’s in his hands, I’ll have more than enough to pay off all of you. And then some.”
“Don’t forget your debt to us,” Branson adds, that smug bastard. “Your cut’s going to be dog scraps after we’re done.”
I resist the urge to rip his tongue out.
“I don’t see why I owe you assholes anything.”
“Because debts get paid one way or another,” Dallas snarls. “And right now, your blood’s on the ledger. You’re a disgrace, Bash. A worm in an Elder’s skin.”
I say nothing.
I’ve learned to bite my tongue, doesn’t mean I won’t slit theirs one day.
These used to be my brothers. Now they sit across from me like executioners sharpening the axe. Our secret meetings feel more like funeral rehearsals, and I’m the one in the box.
The shift happened the moment he showed up. The Prime Elder. The founder. The ghost we all tried to forget.
Since then, nothing’s been the same.
Now, they talk like I’m dead already. Like they’re just waiting for the right time to bury me.
“What does he want with the girl anyway?” Branson asks, tone too curious, too hungry.
“I don’t ask questions. I was told to marry her and deliver her. That’s it.”
“And yet… you didn’t even do that right,” Desmond sneers. “Now we don’t know where she is.”
“Where do you think she is?” I bark. “With them. Being their plaything. Whoring herself out to every Devil that grins at her. What the hell did you expect? Look at her. She’s fucking perfect. Of course she’s playing them all, just like she played me.”
But even as I spit those words, my gut twists.
That’s not the truth.
I played her. I manipulated Josie. I wove every lie like silk, and Athens, poor, sweet Athens, believed me. I had her wrapped around my ring finger.
Until he came back.
Wyck, with his mother’s temper and none of my fear.
The second he laid eyes on her, I knew it was over. So I made her forget. Over and over again. Every memory. Every spark. Every name .
But you can’t erase what lives in the bones. And now, she’s his.
“She’s gone,” I mutter. “But not for long.”
Archie leans forward. “Then get her back. Or we’ll bleed you dry.”
“I’ve got people on the inside. She’s back on campus. My men are already in place. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Good,” Desmond growls. “You better keep us posted. Or we’ll finish what your son started.”
I grit my teeth. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve imagined choking the life out of each one of them, I’d buy back the city myself.
“Get your own houses in order,” I shoot back. “Your sons are no better than mine.”
“Let the real men handle that,” Desmond laughs.
“Yeah,” Branson adds, “At least we don’t get our asses handed to us by our own flesh and blood.”
I go cold.
“Don’t worry about Wyck,” I say through a clenched jaw. “I raised that boy. I know where the fractures are. One good strike, and he’ll shatter.”
Archie stands, adjusting his jacket. “We have to reel them back in, Bash. Before they tear it all down.”
Tear what down?
This empire built on sacrifice? This throne of blood and secrets?
We did what we had to. What none of them would.
And I’d do it all again.
Because when the smoke clears… When the bodies fall… It’s not about power or money or legacy.
It’s about survival.
And I’m not fucking done yet.
Not by a long shot.