Chapter 2
ALEXANDER
The water feels like fire going down my throat and nose, chasing out the last bit of air from my lungs. A hand is rooted in my hair, keeping my head underwater. The world is spinning, and my vision is growing spotty, but I know better than to resist him.
It’ll only make things worse in the end.
We’ve been at this long enough that everything is moving in slow motion now. I’m near my limit. I close my eyes and focus on the silence below the water’s surface. It’s peaceful down here. Welcoming, even.
Maybe he’ll finally go too far this time.
After what feels like an eternity, he pulls my head up. I suck in a painful breath, then steel my expression. Quick, shallow inhalation through my nose does little to quench my desperate need for air, but it’s the only way I can keep from losing my composure.
He’ll capitalize on any bit of weakness I show.
The spluttering fluorescent lights in the basement cast flickering highlights on the man inflicting my torture.
Ben’s face is callous—it usually is, and the angry scar over his eye makes him look even fiercer—but I can tell from his eyes that he wants this as little as I do.
But just like me, he doesn’t have a choice. He’s just my father’s henchman.
Father stands a few paces off from us, watching this unfold with displeasure.
“Tell me where he is!” His voice echoes through the tiny basement room.
He slams his fist on a nearby table, disturbing the selection of knives, brass knuckles, and other tools of torture he’ll have Ben use on me if he finds my answer unsatisfactory. As fucked up as it is, this isn’t the first time he’s done this to me.
“I don’t know where he is, sir,” I rasp.
My voice is so weak it surprises me. I try to straighten, but the bite of the barbed rope binding my arms keeps me hunched. Ben’s grip on my head grows loose.
Father is silent for a few moments. I’ve given him the same answer every time, and it’s the truth. I have no clue where my brother is. Graham was smart enough not to tell me that much about his plan.
I’m sure he knew the lengths father would go to get it out of me.
He walks over slowly, the sound of his dress shoes crunching the concrete an ominous backdrop to my racing thoughts.
Now that I have a steady supply of oxygen, my temper ignites.
I’m as ashamed as I am angry. I’m twenty-two, six-three and fit enough to knock out my old man with a single punch.
Yet, he has me tied up in the basement like a hog.
His own flesh and blood.
“I believe you, Alexander.” His voice is low. “You were always smarter than that fucking rat.” The contempt in his voice is laughable.
Oh, how the tables turn.
Up until twenty-four hours ago, Graham was in line to succeed our father. He was the golden boy, his right-hand man. The only person he trusted. I was always in the background, the black sheep. The son he wished he never had. Now, he wants me to believe that he’s preferred me all this time.
I recognize his words for what they are—desperation.
Maybe I’d be desperate too if the child I invested all my attention in over the last three decades suddenly disappeared in the middle of the most violent turf war London’s ever seen. A turf war that Graham started.
A little diversification would have done him well, I suppose.
He instructs Ben to untie me. My wrists are raw and bleeding from the rope. Now that I’m not focused on getting enough air to survive, pain blossoms all over my body. The punches Ben gave me earlier are starting to hurt. I’ll be sore as shit in the morning.
Still, it could have been worse. He didn’t touch my face.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just need to be sure,” father says when we’re out of the basement.
He had me tied up and brought to a safe house in the woods to torture me within inches of my life. Regardless of what he says, I know what he planned to do if he had reason to believe I helped Graham defect.
I nod, even though I want to punch him in the face. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
Father smiles and reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder.
I almost flinch. We’re around the same height now, though his frame has gotten frailer over the years.
I look him over—the wrinkles by his eyes, the graying temples, the shaky fingers.
He’s a shell of the man who terrorized my childhood, but he still holds so much power over me.
Over us all, really.
“The jet is ready to take you to school tomorrow,” he says, checking his watch. “I expect even more of you this year, Alexander. There’s no room for fuckups.”
We’re standing outside the rickety shack. Ben has left us to sit in the SUV with the driver. This is the most private conversation we’ll be able to have before the drive back into the city. My father pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it.
He offers me one, but I shake my head. I’ve gone two years without one and I don’t plan to go back.
“Yes, sir,” I say, turning my eyes away from him. Above us, stars are just beginning to twinkle as the sky grows darker. “I will not let you down.”
He chuckles, then coughs dryly. “Things are dire, Alexander. Your fucking brother’s little stunt has lowered morale among the men.” Another cough rattles his chest. “He had all the plans for this move.”
What he means to say is that with no clear successor, he’s finding it difficult to keep people in line.
It’s the law we all live by—seize power when your enemies are weak.
Graham was feared the whole country over.
He could kill a man in seconds with his bare hands, and nobody was better than him with a knife.
Now that he’s gone, the Empire Syndicate seems like easy pickings. Even our allies are losing faith in us. They would rather divvy up our territory. Just last week there was an attack on one of our warehouses—we lost hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of weapons, product and twelve men.
We’ve yet to find out who it was, but only my father’s inner circle knew of it.
The turf war was supposed to be father’s last piece of the action.
His last hurrah. He would retire as King of London’s underworld and Graham would pick up the mantle.
Now it’s all fucked. If father doesn’t find a way to regain control of the Empire and win this war, he’ll lose everything he spent the last six decades building.
All the money, all the night clubs and hotels, all the influence.
I’m almost sympathetic.
“You’re going to have to step up,” he says, a plume of smoke rising from his lips. “I sent you to that school to learn how to be a better man, but also to make the connections we need to keep the Empire alive.”
I want to scowl, but I keep my face straight.
My father didn’t care what I did, only that I worked in the family business. Saint Frederic was my choice—he only allowed it. For him to act like this was all part of his master plan is a slap in a face.
My own desire for true power, for a reputation that truly belonged to me is what got me to where I am. Not my father’s fucking wishes.
I look down at the ring on my index finger—the Kingmaker Signet Ring.
I suffered to get it. Bled for it. Fought to the death and came out on top.
As Head Kingmaker for the past two years, I’ve shown myself to be the most fearsome man among the offspring of the world’s most dangerous people. I’ve retained my title twice.
The third time is the charm, they say.
Saint Frederic University is one of the seven universities in the world with a branch of the Kingmaker House—a fraternity sponsored by the Kingmaker Society.
Members of the House are eligible to be inducted into the Kingmaker Society, a worldwide brotherhood comprised of the world’s most powerful men.
The perks and connections that come from being part of the Kingmaker Society would do more than save the Empire, it would elevate me to royalty. I could easily help my father gain total control of London’s underworld in the space of a few months.
If I retain my title as Head Kingmaker for a third time—I would be one of only three brothers to ever do so in the House’s three-hundred-year history—my spot in the Kingmaker Society would be almost guaranteed.
Well, provided I pass their rigorous initiation.
“I haven’t lost sight of my goal, sir.” I say through gritted teeth.
He huffs, taking a long drag of the cigarette.
Father’s grey eyes are tinged with something akin to helplessness. He does a good job of hiding his feelings behind his all-consuming rage, but I’ve come to see his anger and volatility for what it really is—fear. He’s scared as shit.
His entire future is now resting on my shoulders. Me, his spare. Growing up, Graham was father’s favorite child, and I was mom’s. Father never missed an opportunity to remind me what a pussy I was for having the interests I did.
The situation we’re in right now is his worst nightmare.
Does he regret some of the choices he made? Does he wish he had treated mom and I differently, better even? When he’s alone at night, I hope the guilt suffocates him too.
“I know you’ll make me proud son,” he says, showing his teeth. “You always have.”
As we walk towards the SUV, I force down the disgust that arises from his words.
I’ve always made him proud, huh? I wonder how different my life would have been had I heard those words from him ten years ago.
Not just now, when he needs to salvage our broken relationship.
Perhaps I would have become a different man.
Perhaps I would be less like him.
Shrugging off the hatred coming over me, I set my mask in place.
We get in the SUV and begin the journey back to our penthouse in the city. I’m counting down the hours until I get back to Saint Frederic University. As much as I hate allowing myself to feel hopeful about anything, I’m looking forward to getting on that flight to Switzerland tomorrow.
Saint Frederic University is more than just a school to me. It’s my haven. More of home to me than anywhere else. All nine hundred acres of the campus are my kingdom. At SFU, I’m not Griffin Duke’s second son. No, I’m Alexander Duke—leader of the most coveted secret society and king of the campus.
By itself, that’s amazing. Yet the start of a new school year brings new students.
I’ll hold the futures of the hundreds of Kingmaker hopefuls—we call them Associates—in the palm of my hand.
I’ll have countless opportunities to make use of my power.
I’ve even been toying with the idea of finally availing myself of one of the perks of being on the Kingmaker Council—taking a Courtesan.
Though I’ve had the chance to for the past two years, this year feels like maybe the only year I’ll need one.
It’s already shaping up to be the most stressful one yet, and I’ll need a reliable way to blow off the steam.
I’m certain one of the incoming freshmen will suit the bill—a girl with a nice ass who won’t get attached because we’ll only have a year together.
We’re nearly half an hour into our trip when my phone buzzes.
It’s a text from an unlisted number.
Made it. Thx.
I know exactly who it’s from, so I delete it quickly.
Glancing over at my father, I see that the drive has lulled him to sleep. I smirk in the darkness of the cabin. I might not know where Graham went, but I did help him escape this life.
It was the least I could do considering how much he’s done for me over the years.
I still remember the first conversation we had about her, the girl that made him do all this shit. He found someone who loved him truly, even with his horrible past. She changed him, and he felt like he had to change for her.
At first, I tried to talk him out of it. Deserting would make him a wanted man. There’s no way he could do that and live. Father would hunt him down and kill him in front of all of us. It would be the worst kind of death too.
But then, I met her, Ivy, and everything made sense.
It was like watching something out of a movie.
They were in-sync to the point of finishing each other’s sentences.
Graham had even taken up baking with her because she mentioned always wanting to do that with her boyfriend.
Graham, the man who never followed instructions unless it involved killing someone.
It looked like the kind of love that made people do crazy things.
So, when he came to me a few months ago with the news that Ivy was pregnant I knew what was coming next. It was the only thing to do. Father would never let him date an innocent like her, much less let them have children.
Even if he managed to get father to agree to their relationship, Ivy and his kid would become targets. Just like our mother was. I can’t fault Graham for wanting to ensure Ivy doesn’t suffer the same fate.
I respect the choice he made.
Truthfully, I wish he was still here. Only because I don’t want to do this alone. But at least he got out. The fucker gets to live the life he deserves, and I can’t be upset at him for wanting happiness.
That’s all I could ever want for my older brother.
If I were in his shoes, I’d make the same decisions, I think.
Which is why I’ve resigned myself to never be. Love only leaves a trail of pain and devastation in its wake. It killed my mother. If Graham is discovered, Ivy will die.
Love always brings death.