Chapter Twenty-Nine
TOREN
By the time I stumble through the door, Harper has already torn open the wounds telling the guys everything that happened between me and Masen.
Carnage's concern evaporates the instant his eyes land on the shirt I'm wearing and the mark blazing on my neck like a brand.
Shame burns through me even though it shouldn't, scorching me from the inside out.
I mumble something about filling them in after I shower and try to escape, but Pope materializes in my path, a wall of judgment blocking my exit.
“I don't care who you fuck.”
I flinch, fighting the desperate urge to let my gaze drop to the floor in submission.
“What I do care about is you fucking up our plans all because you couldn't keep your legs shut and—”
“Fuck you!” The words explode from me, white-hot rage igniting in my chest. “How fucking dare you presume to know anything about me!” My voice shakes with fury.
“I haven't forgotten for a single damn second what's at stake here. I was the one they blamed for murdering my best friend and three others. I will never lose sight of the end goal.”
When Pope smiles down at me, actually smiles, the urge to slap that smug expression off his face nearly overwhelms me. Somehow, I hold back.
“Good to know you have some fire in you.”
I recoil like he's struck me. “What?”
He shrugs with infuriating casualness. “Had to see if you had the balls to fight back. Turns out Carn was right.”
I'm about to unleash hell on this bastard when Omen cuts through the tension.
“We're attacking their supply runs while they're at the hockey game.”
I spin to face him, my heart pounding.
“How?” The word comes out desperate, hungry for answers.
He shakes his head, his expression unreadable. “Rule number one of being the boss, you may make all the decisions, but it's best to leave the planning to those you trust. That way it can never be used against you.”
“How am I supposed to help if I don't know what the plan is, Omen?” Frustration bleeds into every syllable.
Vatican snorts. “You're not coming with us. You'll go to the game with Harper and act like everything is normal.”
The dismissal stings more than it should.
Carnage steps in, backing his brother with a voice that's gentler but no less firm. “Go to the game, Tor. You being there will not only distract your father and brother, but…” he pauses, and when he says the next name, it sounds like poison on his tongue, “Xaden as well.”
“Appear normal. Act like you know nothing. Bring no attention to yourself,” Omen continues, his tone leaving no room for argument. “When the job is done, Carnage will text you.”
I press my lips together, questions burning in my throat, but Halo cuts me off before I can voice them.
“The less you know, the better. Devlin is in your head, we can't risk him knowing any details. We've already told you too much.”
A heavy sigh escapes me, the weight of helplessness crushing down on my shoulders. “If I'm going to take over my family's empire, how the fuck am I going to know what to do if you all won't show me?”
The vulnerability in my voice makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
“I told you I would be by your side and help you through it. I meant it.” Carnage's words wash over me like a lifeline. “I will teach you everything you need to know.”
I don't think he has any idea how grateful I am, how much his kindness has saved me when I had nothing left. I'll never be able to repay him for what he's given me.
“We'll all help you,” Halo adds, and something warm flickers in my chest.
“So long as you never try to fuck with Hollow Hills like your father and that other cunt, you will always have our loyalty.”
Omen's warning lands like a blade between my ribs—sharp, clean, unmistakable. I can read between the lines crystal clear. If I ever betray the Denver Kings, the Filthy Few, or any of their girls, I'll make enemies of them all. And that's a death sentence I never want to face.
The five of them are a force of nature on their own. Together?
Jesus. They would burn both towns to ash and never lose a moment's sleep over the devastation they left behind.
I nod, and this time when I storm out of the room, Pope doesn't dare stop me.
I snatch clothes from my room with trembling hands and lock myself in the bathroom like I'm sealing myself away from the world.
I can't look at my reflection. I can't bear to see the mark blazing on my neck like a brand of ownership.
He didn't need to do that. I already carry the evidence of him inside me every single day, and I don't mean his cum.
The life we so recklessly created together is a far bigger statement than a fucking hickey could ever be!
I scrub at my skin under the scalding water, trying to wash away the sins of the day, trying to think clearly about what I'm about to do.
Taking out their money will cripple them but only for a moment.
They'll recover. If their operation is as massive as I suspect, this will be nothing more than a temporary inconvenience.
Then an idea slams into me with such force I gasp out loud, choking on steam and revelation.
I practically throw myself out of the shower, wrapping a towel haphazardly around my body, water streaming down my legs as I burst out of the bathroom. I need to tell them. Now.
I rush into the living room and skid to a stop, the words exploding from my lips before I can think better of it. “We need to kidnap my dad.”
All six of them freeze, staring at me like I've lost my mind.
“Girl in the towel dripping water on my floor, say what?”
My eyebrows shoot to my hairline at Vatican's description.
I glance down, taking in the sight of myself standing there, soaking wet in nothing but a towel, then look back at them and cringe.
The five guys are staring at me like deer caught in headlights, their expressions a mixture of shock and something else I can't quite name.
“Tor, why don't you go change so the guys can focus on what you said rather than what you're hiding beneath that towel, huh?”
A mortified squeak tears from my throat. I take Harper's advice and flee back to my room, yanking on clothes with shaking hands. When I return to the living room, I can't bring myself to look at any of them as I sink into the seat between Harper and Omen, heat still burning in my cheeks.
“Want to tell us why you want to kidnap your father?” Halo's voice cuts through the awkward silence.
I force myself to breathe, one deep, steadying breath then meet his eyes with all the conviction burning inside me.
“Cutting off their supply train will only slow them down, not stop them. But taking my dad out? That means his entire operation grinds to a halt. Xaden will come looking for him, which means his empire stops running too.”
“How can you be so sure?” Vatican challenges, skepticism dripping from every word.
“Because I'm going to tell him it was me.” The admission hangs in the air like a live grenade. “I'm going to tell Xaden that I took my father.”
“And why the hell would he care?”
I turn to Carnage, a wicked smile curling across my lips despite the fear coiling in my gut.
“He'll think I'm trying to protect my dad. Xaden will come for him just to prove a point, just to hurt me.” The words taste bitter but true.
“When he finds him, we let them tear each other apart.
While they're distracted, bleeding each other dry, we make our move and rip their empires out from under them.
They'll never see it coming. By the time the winner crawls out of the wreckage and realizes what happened, it'll be too late because I will have replaced them both and stolen their crowns.”
“They have men who are loyal to them,” Pope interjects, his tone sharp. “Men who will fight against you.”
I nod, the weight of that reality pressing down on my chest. “I know. That's why I need to take my father's spot first so I'll have the financial backing to buy some of Xaden's men. Everyone has a price. We just have to figure out what it is.”
“And when is this supposed to happen?” Omen's question is careful, measured.
“You continue with your plan to take out the supply trains. After the game, we grab my dad and let Xaden come to us.”
Carnage looks at me with something blazing in his eyes, pride, maybe even admiration, and a wicked smile spreads across his handsome face that makes my heart skip.
“Now you're thinking like a queen.”
Warmth floods through me, dangerous and intoxicating.
“Let's get to work, boys. If we're doing this, we need more manpower.”
“Alex?” Omen questions.
Carn shakes his head firmly. “Not yet. For now, we just have us. When we capture Steven and take out the supply trains, that's when we call because shit will move fast after that and we'll need all the help we can get. We're outnumbered at the moment.”
Guilt sinks its claws into me, tearing at my insides.
These guys are risking everything to help me.
I should tell them to stop, to go home, to save themselves but the words die in my throat, choking me with my own selfishness.
Carnage told me they're under strict orders from Alex not to start a war or attach their names to any trouble.
I suspect they have their own war raging back home, but none of them will confirm it.
“I can make a call.”
We all turn to face Harper, the sudden shift in her voice making my blood run cold.
“To who?” I ask, dread already pooling in my stomach.
Shadows of despair dance in her eyes like ghosts rising from a grave, and I see the phantoms of her past haunting her, tormenting her.
Shame crashes over me. I'm a terrible friend.
I don't know much about Harper's past because she never willingly shared the details, and I never pushed. God, I wish I had.
“I can get you the manpower you'll need for Saturday.” Her tone is completely void of emotion, hollow, empty, dead.
“How, Harp?” My voice comes out barely above a whisper, fragile with worry.
Her eyes are blank, lifeless. Her normally vibrant smile has vanished like it never existed.
“You have your devil, and I have mine.”
The ominous words send ice racing down my spine. Something about the devastation in her eyes tells me this call for backup is going to cost my friend far more than she's willing to give, maybe more than she has left to lose.