Chapter 32 Kali #2
The Head of Ilasall, the man whose name contained the most abhorrent five letters in existence—Peter—held the city in an iron fist, whipping his reins over the backs of citizens daring to look up instead of keeping their eyes on the beaten path and blindly following his edicts.
Who dared to dream instead of sinking to the bottom of the cesspool the city had become.
Who had the audacity to question the government instead of allowing them to be manipulated like puppets.
Whose minds were capable of discovering the truth—that a person’s value shouldn’t be determined by their ability to reproduce.
But Gedeon ruled differently. He cared for his people. Had sacrificed himself for them. And always, as hard as it was to admit it, put Zion and me before him, even if he did it with an unhealthy dose of arrogance.
He exuded dominance.
And the way he expressed his starvation for control made my thighs clench.
Because I felt safe. I knew he would stop if it ever became too much.
Punishments were playtime for him, not an opportunity to exert his leverage over someone else, not like Peter and his bi-annual prisoner parades.
The poor, shackled sinners were forced to march across the city, serving as a walking exhibition of what awaited those entertaining the idea of infringing the laws and defying Peter’s reign.
But if Gedeon thought I was acting petty, he had a long way to go to earn my forgiveness. Years spent in Ilasall had taught me that there were three currencies.
The first, commonly known as money, depended on the shape of your genitalia and its functionality. If your balls or uterus worked, luxury was a given. If not, well, you were lucky to reach the age of fifty.
The second currency was the act itself—sex. A primal instinct that had afforded me the opportunity to establish a trade of favors, supplying myself with the black-market merchandise and information.
And the third? This one’s value couldn’t be measured. The faith in someone, so complete you let your guard down around them, tore the lid off your vulnerabilities, and trusted them to safeguard them, to heal them.
And Gedeon had shattered my jar with his fake death.
Sitting to my right, Gedeon pulled Zion’s chair closer right as he lowered. As expected, Zion preened from the affection, or what he would probably call an achievement. But for some reason, that little action of playfulness became the pill absorbing my bitterness and returning my clarity.
We had lots to talk about, but now was not the time. We had more important matters to discuss.
I scanned the room as I reclined in my seat, concentrating on the leaders of the three compounds.
Damia and her second-in-command nodded from the other end of the table, Damia as collected as Greyn was restless.
His leg was clearly bouncing from how the solid piece of furniture occasionally rattled.
“I think we can start.” Damia disturbed the hush. “After all, you asked for no one else but us eleven to be present for this meeting. It’s beyond time you explain why, Gedeon.”
“Before we begin, is no one going to ask?” Nara gestured at Gedeon. Ignoring Damia’s scolding look, she repeated the action in a more dramatic manner. “Really?”
I’d run into the leader’s daughter months ago, when we’d taken a little trip to Damia’s compound, and the young woman didn’t disappoint me then, nor now. She was a duplicate of Jayla in the making.
Conall bit his fist, and his three partners—Nissa, Dain, and Aanya—followed his example, pressing their lips together and looking everywhere but at Gedeon.
“Seriously?” Nara tousled her light brown hair, revealing a shaved semicircle above her ear.
Ink curved around the shell, the linear pattern of an abstract tattoo snaking into her red leather jacket.
Truly, she and Jayla had to share the same wardrobe or shop in the same stores.
“For gods’ sake, Gedeon’s wearing color. ”
Elbows on the table, Gedeon steepled his fingers. “Like every other day.”
“Black is not a color.” My cheeks ached from trying to keep my amusement in check, and Gedeon’s glower only fueled it further.
“But your shirt is blue,” Nara pressed. “And Kali is right; black cannot be considered an actual color. It’s the corpse of colors.”
Gedeon closed his eyes, his chest slowly expanding and collapsing. He’d spent this morning trying on the entire collection of t-shirts to determine which one screamed color the least. As if that was even a thing.
Admittedly, it was also one of the best mornings I’d had in the last decade.
“Blue looks good on you.” Sana wrapped a black curl around her finger, the ink encircling her wrist identifying her as Conall’s second-in-command.
Not a surprise that she’d claimed the seat closest to the door, ready to serve as the last line of defense for her leaders in case of an ambush. “You should wear it more often.”
“I also packed a pink t-shirt for him.” Zion patted Gedeon’s thigh. “If you want him to wear it for the wedding ceremony, Conall, that can be arranged.”
The table exploded. Shaking, Damia threw her head back. Her daughter, even if not by blood, cackled just like her mother, their laughter boisterous enough to loop in Conall and his partners and lure me into succumbing to its call as well.
Grabbing Gedeon’s nape and chin, Zion planted a loud kiss on his nose, and Gedeon’s impossibly deep sigh inspired another round of howling.
Trembling, I gave myself over it. The last memory of such pure joy was so old, I’d dismissed any attempts to locate its date.
Zion hooked an elbow on his chair’s backseat, an embodiment of satiated insanity.
Gedeon’s lip corner twitched upward.
But a blast of wind shut the cracked-open window, the bang so jarring our laughter died in its tracks.
Gedeon’s expression hardened. “I called this meeting because you are the only ones I fully trust. Eleven people out of the thousands residing in our compounds.”
Without a second thought, I squeezed his leg. He tensed, but once his muscles loosened, so did the hail pattering me from the inside. Yes, I was furious at him, my rage without bounds, but my heart had never ceased belonging to him, same as to Zion. The stupid organ wouldn’t listen to reason.
“I have discovered who the traitor in my compound is.” His jawline as harsh as the revelation, Gedeon addressed Conall. “And I know who is in yours.”