27. Wes
CHAPTER 27
WES
The thumping beat of a Kendrick Lamar song fills the silence as we drive the darkened county roads to Dyersville, all lost in our own heads after that unexpected phone call from Gideon. The tension between us has been thickening with every mile to the point that it’s damn near suffocating. The proverbial elephant in the room has a name; one that formerly commanded respect.
Daniel Powers.
My father used to be a big-shot investment banker, revered for his ability to turn hundreds into thousands, thousands into millions. Millions into tens of millions. Then he lost it all.
The money.
The respect.
His family.
The idyllic household I grew up in turned out to be a sham, and when my dad fell from grace, everything imploded. My mom walked out. I haven’t spoken to my father since. My sister is soft and still takes his calls, but it’s only out of pity for the man who gambled away his future.
Our future.
I doubt he contemplated how his greed would affect his children while he was stepping outside the bounds of his orders within the Invictus. What he did wasn’t a betrayal, per se– that distinction being the only reason he’s still breathing – but there were still consequences that followed. His position within the society saved him from facing legal recourse for his slew of white-collar crimes, but there was no escaping the social backlash.
It’s a small mercy that most in the upper echelon of the Invictus are too polite to sneer in our faces, allowing us to pretend as if we still have wealth and status amongst them. Doesn’t mean I don’t hear their whispers the moment our backs are turned. The only thing that’ll silence them is my own successful ascension, which is now a necessity to secure my future since my family name has been sullied.
All things considered, my father got off easy when he was recused from his position and permitted to continue serving the Invictus in a lesser capacity. The society isn’t known for showing mercy to those who step out of line.
I adjust my grip on the steering wheel, feeling the familiar tightness of the scarred skin on my palm as I flex it against the leather.
Blood in, blood out.
That’s the mantra my friends and I repeated when we dripped blood from our palms onto the stone in the crypt, completing our initiation ritual. We were just fourteen when we bound ourselves to the Invictus, solidifying our triad and setting forth on the path to become Kings, as our fathers were before us. As our sons will be after us, so long as we succeed in claiming our place.
We swore an oath that night to uphold the fundamental tenets of the society. Unyielding Loyalty ; not to one person, but to the Invictus above all else. Unwavering Obedience ; to follow orders without question, trusting each to be for the good of the whole. We understood that we were committing ourselves to a lifetime of allegiance, and that once we were initiated, the only way to sever ties with the Invictus would be through death.
Blood in, blood out.
Of course, membership in the country’s oldest secret society also comes with its fair share of perks. Once an initiate completes their trials– the extent of which depends on the rank they aspire to reach– they’re granted limitless wealth, connections, and power in exchange. The Invictus has its hands in everything, from banking to media, real estate to politics… they’ve been pulling the strings behind the scenes for centuries, quite literally shaping the face of our country as we know it. Their reach spreads far and wide, and every individual member has their own orders to follow, ensuring their contribution to the structure as a whole.
Ford’s old man is fulfilling his current order as a state senator, furthering the Invictus’ agenda through his political moves. My father carried out his orders by controlling a sizable portion of the country’s wealth, directing the economy however the Invictus saw fit. Gideon’s proclivities are on the seedier side of things, so his orders involve dealing in drugs, weapons, and other less-than-legal trades. He controls a flourishing criminal empire, but even that kind of power doesn’t make him untouchable.
A couple months ago, the Kings received an anonymous order from within the Invictus that targeted someone close to us. We were directed to accept or refuse before the identity of the target would be revealed, and assuming it was a test, we accepted without batting an eye. We’ve never refused an order, and we weren’t about to start. We understand that sacrifices are sometimes necessary for the greater good.
Acceptance of an order can’t be rescinded, so once we found out we’d be setting up Gideon Romero to take a fall, we had no choice but to follow through. Not that we had any hesitation in doing so. Raf has always despised his old man– it’s never been a question of if he’ll take him down, but when – so it felt kismet to have the opportunity fall in our laps the way it did. Whoever Gideon pissed off within the upper echelon of the Invictus obviously knew what they were doing in coming to us.
It was supposed to be simple. Clean. Intercept a weapons shipment, have it conveniently go missing, and plant just enough suspicion that Gideon got greedy and sold it to someone he shouldn’t have. Ford worked his magic on the back end to bury the Romero family wealth in shadow accounts, preventing Gideon from simply replacing the shipment to avoid answering for it. He should’ve been left with no choice but to report the loss to the Invictus and face the consequences.
We should’ve known he’d find another way. Gideon Romero is just as savvy as he is ruthless, and he didn’t get where he is today without always having a contingency plan in place. While it remains to be seen exactly what that plan is, one thing’s clear after his phone call– if we don’t change course and play along, we’re well and truly fucked.
Which is why we’re currently bound for the dilapidated warehouse in Dyersville so Raf can unleash his inner demons through unrestrained violence.
“Did you hear back from Benny yet?” Raf snarls from the passenger seat, hooking his chin over his shoulder to glare at Ford in the back.
Ford was tasked with contacting the organizer of the fights as we piled in the Escalade to leave campus, but all I’ve seen him do since we hit the road is dip into his liquor stash and catch a buzz.
“Yep, got you in,” Ford quips. “You’re the main event, fighting some guy named Ramsey.”
“Never heard of him,” I mutter, frowning.
“Doesn’t matter,” Raf grumbles as he reaches back to steal the bottle of whiskey dangling from Ford’s fingers. He brings it to his lips and takes a long swig.
“The fuck it doesn’t,” I scoff, flickering him a sideways glance as I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. “We need to pull his stats, figure out his weaknesses. You can’t just go in there swinging blind.”
“Fucking watch me,” Raf growls, wiping his mouth off on a forearm as he passes the bottle back to Ford.
He shouldn’t be drinking before a fight, either, but I’m not about to point that out.
I dart a glance his way as Raf heaves a disgruntled sigh, staring out the window into the inky darkness. He hasn’t looked me in the eye once since he got that call from Gideon. None of us were aware that he’d turned to my father for help with his accounts, but for some reason I’m still feeling guilty by association. It’s obvious Raf blames me on some level, too, whether consciously or not.
Daniel wasn’t able to move anything from the accounts that Ford put on ice, but he did open a new one for Gideon. It just received a massive influx of cash; enough to cover the missing shipment and then some. Enough to undermine our flawlessly executed plan.
“Where the fuck did he get the money?” I wonder aloud, chewing on the inside of my cheek.
“The source wasn’t traceable,” Ford mutters agitatedly. “And he added more protections on the new account so I can’t access it the same way I did the others.”
“So now we’re just fucked,” Raf growls.
“Not necessarily,” I say, hazarding another glance in his direction. “This is just a setback. He’ll never be able to connect the missing shipment to us, so there’s no threat of repercussions. We’ll just have to find some other way to take the asshole down.”
“But now he knows someone’s gunning for him,” Ford unhelpfully points out. “We won’t get another chance like that one, we’ve lost the element of surprise.”
“Nothing we can do about that now,” I sigh, flipping on the blinker as I roll to a stop at an intersection, the hazy lights of Dyersville glowing in the distance. “We just need to wait it out. And in the meantime, we should probably discuss how we’re gonna manage this Ava situation.”
Raf growls at the mention of her name, hands curling into fists in his lap.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that Gideon always prioritized his mistress over his wife, he’s now seemingly prioritizing her daughter over his own son. The fact that he’s taken such a vested interest in Ava is a slap in the face to Raf, made worse by the ‘incentive’ he cooked up to ensure her safety. When he said he had my dad move some things around , that wasn’t entirely accurate. He couldn’t move the frozen assets, but he could change the name of the beneficiary on all his accounts. Ava just became the Romero family’s most valuable commodity.
To say Raf is pissed would be an understatement. His family fortune is now tied to his stepsister, which means it’s more important than ever to get her firmly under our control. It was all just a game before, but now, it’s a necessity.
“We already know what we have to do,” Ford remarks as he takes another pull from the whiskey bottle.
Raf glares out the windshield, jaw set tight. “Not happening.”
Ford heaves a sigh, rolling his eyes. “It’s the only way to make her truly untouchable, and didn’t Gideon say to keep her close?”
“That’s too fuckin’ close,” Raf snarls, looking to me for backup.
I wish I could give it, but Ford’s insinuation makes a whole lot of sense. “Well, it would’ve been helpful if Gideon mentioned that before we turned the entire student body against her,” I grumble, hitting the brakes to slow down as the warehouse comes into view. “We’ll look like hypocrites if we change course now without good reason, and we all know what’ll happen if there’s any perception of instability in our triad. But if we make her our Doll…”
“No,” Raf snaps.
“We can control her,” I finish as I swing the Escalade off the road and into the poorly-lit parking lot.
“ No ,” he repeats, banging a fist against the passenger window.
I lift my gaze to the rearview mirror and make eye contact with Ford, hoping he’ll jump in and help me out. He just shrugs and takes another swig of whiskey, eyes twinkling with amusement.
I swear the fucker gets off on conflict.
“Think about it, Raf,” I urge, pulling into a spot and shifting the gear into park. I need him to calm the fuck down; for him to see the same value in Ava that his old man does. Hell, as I do, because I’m sure as shit not ready to let her go yet. The game has barely begun.
I stab my fingers through my hair as I twist to face him, keeping my voice at a low, even decibel. “It’s the only way to keep her exactly where we need her.”
“We don’t even have to make it official,” Ford chimes in, finally rejoining the conversation. Because he wants this, too. Maybe even more than I do. “Just slip on the collar and everyone on campus will think it’s real.”
I glance back at him, brow furrowing. “Even if she’s not living with us?”
“Oh no, she’ll have to live with us,” he grins.
“Out of the fucking question,” Raf barks.
I heave a sigh, turning off the engine and pocketing the keys. “It’s the simplest solution,” I say, holding Raf’s gaze. “And you know that collar would look good around her neck.”
His eyes darken as he stares back at me, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “Keep talking like that and I’ll skip the fight with Ramsey and beat your face in instead,” he replies coldly.
I bite back my retort, letting the topic drop. I’m not scared of Raf, but I also don’t want to be on the receiving end of the pent-up rage he’s harboring right now.
“Nah, his face is too pretty,” Ford cuts in with a laugh, reaching between the seats to slap a hand down on Raf’s shoulder. “You can fight me , though,” he adds, wagging his brows.
“Fuck off,” Raf grumbles, slapping Ford’s hand away as he throws open his door and hops out of the vehicle. He grabs his bag out of the footwell before slamming it shut behind him and stomping away.
“He’ll come around,” I tell Ford, opening my own door and stepping out into the chilly night air. Raf’s already halfway to the building, eating up the distance in long strides.
Ford climbs out of the back seat, still clutching the whiskey bottle in his grip as he joins me in watching our friend storm across the parking lot.
“He just needs to work off some aggression first,” I mumble. “Once he’s calmed down, he’ll see he doesn’t have any other choice.”
“He’s more like his old man than he’d ever admit,” Ford muses, swallowing another mouthful of whiskey before tucking the bottle into his leather jacket. “If there’s another way, he’ll find it.”
“Then we just need to convince him there isn’t.”
“Aw, you getting attached, Romeo?” he taunts, lips pulling into a feral grin.
I scoff and roll my eyes. “No, I’m just being pragmatic.”
“You sure ?” he presses as we start toward the building.
I open my mouth to respond when I hear someone call my name, turning my head to see a blonde in a short skirt leaning up against a beat-up red Camaro. My trademark grin instantly spreads across my face and I lift a hand to wave.
“Find me after the fight?” she asks, desperation dripping from each word.
I swirl my tongue against the inside of my cheek as I give her an appreciative once over, eyes lingering where the hem of the skirt brushes her upper thighs. Not a schoolgirl skirt, but I suppose it’ll do.
“Maybe,” I mumble as I stride past, tossing her a wink for good measure.
“You can admit you’re not done with her yet,” Ford murmurs absently. “I’m not either.”
“Ah, so you’re getting attached,” I tease, elbowing him in the ribs.
He slams to a stop, all humor draining from his voice as his brows slant inward. “I don’t get attached.”
“No?” I challenge, swiveling in his direction and arching a brow. “Not even after you inked her?”
Ford snorts a laugh, slipping right back into joviality. No matter how long I’ve known the guy, his abrupt shifts in demeanor still weird me out sometimes.
“I still wanna hit, if that’s what you mean,” he remarks, knocking his shoulder into mine as he resumes walking toward the building.
“You and me both,” I grumble as I fall into step beside him.