Prologue Honor Gravehart #2
The longer I watched her, the less I searched for a why.
Her presence in this fucked up mansion was sunlight breaking through stone.
She was so out of place that her presence had to be divine.
She didn't need a reason to be here. She was the reason.
Her almond-shaped eyes found mine, and for a second, I felt exposed.
My throat went dry just as Chance shoved my shoulder forward.
"Keep it moving."
I picked up the pace and continued out of the house.
Out back, Lucian had a makeshift gun range.
Guns, targets, basically a bunch of fake war game bullshit.
His son, Talon, stood at his post, holding a rifle like it was covered in shit.
I laughed to myself because this had to be the pussy son I heard Lucian mumble about the day after I arrived.
On my second day here, Lucian grabbed me from the basement for what he called training.
He forced every weapon he could into my hands and demanded I hit the target.
I put little effort in, pissing Lucian off.
Every time I missed a target, he had Chance backhand me.
We stayed outside until the sun went down, and Lucian finally gave up.
As he walked off, I heard him mumble something about me being pussy just like his son, Talon.
I laughed that shit off 'cause if I wanted to, I could've hit the targets, but what's the point?
Lucian didn't hold up his end of the bargain, so why the fuck would I?
"I don't wanna do this," Talon muttered.
I stood back as Lucian took in his son. He didn't show an ounce of emotion, but I saw it coming. Had Talon noticed, he might've been able to move fast enough to dodge the slap. He didn't, but that nigga felt it though. The spit flying out of his mouth was proof.
"Then die slow," Lucian gritted, "but don't wear my name while you do."
Talon stumbled, and Chance moved quickly to get between father and son.
"Relax, you know Talon isn't—" Chance started, but it was pointless.
Lucian moved with precision, shoving Chance out of his way and slapping Talon again.
I shook my head as they argued and moved closer to the table. My hands slid across a handgun that wasn't too big nor too small. I saw a few niggas around my way carrying one similar. I flipped off the lever and slipped the gun into the band of my sweats and made sure my t-shirt hid the weapon.
"Talon, get the fuck in the house!" Lucian barked, his chest heaving as his pale skin turned red.
"Fuck you!" Talon bayed, moving quickly before his father could strike him again.
"Chance, go with him and make sure he doesn't leave this fucking house!"
Chance nodded and took off, but Lucian's rant was far from over.
"That fucking boy is supposed to be a Mancinelli, but he's scared to hold a fucking gun." He spit on the ground, jaw tight with disgust.
"Un figlio debole fa sembrare il padre ancora più debole." (A weak son makes the father look even weaker.)
I didn't know what language Lucian spoke or what he'd said. It didn't matter, as whatever it was, it wasn't meant for me.
"I'm running an empire, not a fucking daycare. If the rest of the Sovereign Circle finds out my bloodline's gone soft, I'll lose respect. Those under me will no longer fear me. And do you know what happens once they stop fearing you?"
He looked dead at me, answering his own question.
"They start aiming for your head."
I smiled. A devilish grin that didn't reach my eyes because it was the kind you wear when you have nothing left to lose.
"Then I guess this is fitting."
In one clean and swift motion, I pulled the gun and leveled it at Lucian's chest. He looked at me, wearing a sick smirk that told me I'd finally given him what he wanted.
"Pulling a gun is easy," he declared, stepping toward me. "But easy doesn't make you brave. Just like throwing your life away for your mother didn't make you honorable."
He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with a cold, amused glint. "You're not a man, Honor. You're a frightened little boy playing hero and trying to save the world from the big bad wolf."
Lucian stopped just short of the barrel.
"But this isn't a fairytale. And I'm not the wolf, kid. I'm the one who teaches the wolf how to hunt."
My voice came out dry and lifeless.
"You're right. Pulling a gun is easy… so is ending a life. All you gotta do is pull the trigger." Grinning, I turned the gun on myself, letting the barrel press against my temple.
"Pulling a gun on yourself… ending your own life, that's war. 'Cause your body… your body's begging you to stay alive while your soul is already gone. You took that from me. You robbed me of that shit when you killed my mom," I huffed and closed my eyes.
My finger hovered over the trigger, shaking as if it were about to betray me. Sweat gathered at the base of my neck and ran down my spine. All I heard was my heartbeat in my ear, beating fast and frantic.
Everything in me begged me to stop and just drop the gun and breathe because death couldn't be better than life.
Only this wasn't about dying. It was about freeing myself from this mental prison.
And still my fingers trembled out of stubbornness because my body refused to let go.
I tightened my grip. Lucian's gaze clenched. I swallowed hard.
One breath. One pull.
That's all it took. The war in my chest quieted long enough for me to end it all.
The pain. The weight of watching Glory die. The carvings in the wall.
None of it mattered. Peace washed over me, and I smiled. With my eyes closed and my finger steady, I was ready. I began to press as I counted to five and inhaled. Then, I counted down from five and exhaled, finally ready.
"No!" Her voice tore through the air like glass shattering.
It was panic. It was wild. It was her.
She wasn't supposed to be here. I didn't even know her name, but she wasn't supposed to see me like this. Yet there she was, running toward us, screaming. Lucian snatched the gun and yanked me forward by my t-shirt.
"Do as I say from this point on, and I'll let you out of the basement. Don't, and I'll kill her." His head jerked subtly in the direction of the girl who was still running toward us. Her short, stubby legs were slowing her down.
"Think quickly," Lucian sneered.
"Fine."
Smiling a little wider, Lucian freed me of his grasp and then patted me on my back just as Navy approached.
"Daddy, what the hell is going on?" Tears stained her pretty face, but anger scorched her eyes.
"Nothing, sweetheart. He was just being a little… dramatic, for lack of a better word. Honor will be living here from now on. Take him into the house, get him some breakfast, then give him a tour. He'll be staying in the room next to your brother's."
She looked between us, oddly, but said nothing. She then reached for my hand and squeezed it gently. Her fingers locked around mine like the tighter she held, the safer I'd be.
"That's your father?" I asked as we walked toward the house.
"Yeah. I'm Navy by the way," she introduced herself, briefly glancing my way.
"Honor," I responded, then shifted my gaze toward the ground as I started piecing shit together.
Keeping me locked away wasn't about punishment. It was part of his strategy. Suffering didn't matter to Lucian because eventually, it faded, and you'd become numb. He wanted to twist my mind until I couldn't tell the difference between survival and obedience.
Killing Glory in front of me.
Locking me in the basement.
Limited food. Limited water.
Navy in the kitchen.
Lucian not taking the gun until Navy came running out.
All of it was tactics meant to break me. Lucian wanted me at the brink of no return. I tried to save my mom, so why wouldn't I save the beautiful stranger in the kitchen? The girl who stole my breath with just a glance.
He knew.
Patterns had a habit of repeating themselves, and mine reared its head into this situation, forcing me to decide… a decision I didn't fully understand but knew was my only option. With little thought, I blurted exactly what he wanted to hear.
"Fine!"
The single syllable was my offering to Lucian. A shattered mind for him to reshape. Piece by muthafuckin' piece until the only thing left standing…
Looked like him.
Talked like him.
Killed like him.