30. Kingsley
Kingsley
“We need to make decisions,” Dad says steadily, eyes locked on me. “This is an invasion from the Requiem, and we don’t know what they’re after. Rip and Thomas aren’t speaking, and it’s only a matter of time before their people find out we’ve caught them.”
“If we spent less time talking to them and more time beating the information out of them, maybe we would know more,” Shawn sneers.
“It’s only been two days,” I say, ignoring his sass. “They’d be terrible spies if they gave up everything within the forty-eight hours they were captured.”
I’m sitting at the long table with my family, Shawn, my uncle, cousin, and some other respected people from Crowncrest for a much-needed chat.
Shawn showed everyone the proof, and their shocked faces were priceless.
Given the extensive background checks, private interviews, and the fact that we force all higher-level employees to live on the property, realizing they’ve been deceiving us from the start is a real slap in the face.
For two days, Rip and Thomas have been chained up in our underground jail like animals.
They were grilled for answers, but no one has laid a finger on them.
I’m to thank for that. When we captured the Redgraves, I gave everyone a clear warning before going down there: harm them and you’ll lose a hand. Plain and simple.
“Let’s think about this. So, they’re part of the Requiem,” Uncle Santiago thinks aloud, “but are we sure they’re the reason Aralynn is in prison? How would they even get information about shipments and such to tell the police?”
All eyes fall on me, as if I’m the culprit. Shawn and Mateo are the only ones who know the real deal about me and Rip, but since everyone thinks I’m with him the most, I’m the first one to point fingers at.
“Do you all think I was giving them our secrets?” I say emotionlessly.
“Of course not,” Dad says with a sigh.
I shouldn’t trust Rip’s lying mouth at all. Anything he says is bullshit because our whole relationship has been built on a lie, but when he told me he wasn’t the reason for the crumbling of the Crown, the look in his eyes was genuine.
When Thomas said he, not Rip, killed Sylvie, he meant it. It’s ridiculous, but knowing it wasn’t him felt like a weight vanishing from my shoulders. At least that’s one less way he’s betrayed me.
“I also can’t think of why they would want to hurt us,” Mateo says as he raises his hand. “Didn’t we come to a truce back in the olden days or something?”
My father snorts. “It wasn’t the olden days; it was fifty years ago. But I agree. I can’t see a logical reason they would break it.”
“Maybe they thought we knew Thomas murdered Sylvie,” Odette suggests, flinching softly at the mention of Sylvie’s name.
“If that’s the case, then why send Thomas himself here?” Shawn rises to his feet and begins to pace, his question hanging in the air. “That’s not a smart move.”
A hush falls over the table; everyone is deep in thought. After years of peace, why fuck it up now? Why ruin what was working for seemingly no reason?
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Of course, Rip couldn’t be a regular employee. He has to be an undercover intruder from a family we’re supposed to have no contact with. Had it not been for Shawn’s annoying persistence, we’d still be in the dark. Hell, they may have even gotten away with it.
“This is war,” my mother mumbles. She’s been quiet this whole time, but her sudden words have captured everyone’s focus.
Dad looks to his wife. “What was that?”
Mom’s gaze, dark and sharp with fury, shoots upwards. “Maybe they didn’t do everything, but they’re the reason my daughter-in-law’s gone. They murdered Sylvie in cold blood. That is an attack.”
A shiver crawls up my spine. My mom’s hands clench the table’s edges, her body vibrating with an unfamiliar, raw anger. I have never seen her so angry.
“Mya,” my father says calmly, “we don’t need a war.”
“They started it when they sent those boys here to spy on us!” she yells, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as she rises. “I welcomed Rip and Thomas into my home. They got close with my son, and for us to do nothing would be an insult to our name.”
Everyone stares, wide-eyed. I’ve always taken after Mom in choosing calm over anger, unlike my dad, who explodes when things don’t go his way. So, for everyone, witnessing my mom get so worked up is terrifying.
With a soft touch, Odette puts her hand in Mom’s. “They started it when Thomas murdered Sylvie on her and Kingsley’s wedding day. Whether or not it was just a job for him, he still did it. She is dead because of him.”
Everyone nods, but my stomach churns. The meager breakfast I ate this morning is threatening to come back up. I’m not stupid; I know we need to act, but is war the only way?
“I don’t want them as our enemies. We’re already hurting enough with Aralynn and the other damage they’ve done.” Dad rubs his chin, brows knit together as he thinks. Then he meets my gaze. “But to do nothing would be an insult to our name, like Mya said.”
“Kingsley, you know what we have to do,” Shawn states, his tone leaving no room for protest. “This is your chance to prove yourself for good. No more guessing.”
Shawn is right. If I take action against the Redgraves for their blatant disrespect, I’ll become the leader everyone expects. And if I’m going to do that, it means making the first move. A move against Rip and Thomas.
Thomas killed my fiancée, for fuck’s sake. I’ll have to make an example of them. There is no way around it.
God, I might be sick.
“We’ll talk more about this tomorrow. It’s late, and we can’t make any rash decisions,” Dad announces, ending the meeting.
Everyone leaves, but I don’t move a muscle. There’s a disgusting ache racking through my body, knowing that Rip and Thomas are chained in the basement while everyone I know is plotting their murder.
Only those who left the room know Rip and Thomas are Redgraves, but everyone will find out soon. They’ll want them dead for invading us, and they will expect me to do it. Do I want another reason for people to think I’m not fit to be Xavier Beaumont’s son?
If I want the rights to my name, I have to make an example of the intruders in our basement. If I can’t take down the people who killed my fiancée when they’re right in front of me, exposed and vulnerable, I’ll lose the last bit of credibility I have.
There isn’t another option. It’s their fault for coming. It’s my fault for getting so attached.
But how do I take the life of the person who made me feel alive again?
I jump as a warm hand settles on my shoulder. When I look up, my uncle is on one side, and Mateo is on the other. I keep my gaze fixed on the table.
“Forgive me, Lee,” Mateo says sheepishly. “I slipped up and told my dad about you and Rip. I was talking about everything, and it just came out.”
Of course he did. “Did you tell my dad?”
“Xavier does not know,” my uncle pats my back reassuringly. “I wasn’t going to bring it up, but now it makes sense why you’re so against acting against them.”
If there’s anyone I can talk to without biased judgment, it’s my uncle and cousin. They’ll push the Crown bullshit aside for a minute and listen.
“Do you love the boy?” my uncle asks.
Love? That is a strong word. I never loved Sylvie, at least not in the way I should, let alone Rip.
I try to speak, but my brain lags. Why are we even talking about love? It took my father three years to utter such vulnerable, sappy words to my mom.
Seeing my apprehension, he rephrases it. “Do you care for Rip?”
Ah, something I can answer. “The thought of anyone laying a filthy finger on him makes me want to wring their neck so… you tell me.”
A low chuckle rumbles from Mateo. “How sweet.”
Those are the types of thoughts that run through my mind when it comes to that hot-headed fuck.
Seeing them down there, shackled and abused with shouts and spit, only held back from being beaten because I ordered everyone not to, twisted something inside of me.
It took everything not to call it all off.
I wanted to tell everyone to fuck off and let Rip and Thomas go. I still do.
I should want to decapitate the men involved in the taking away of my fiancée—the reason I became such a pathetic shell of myself. Instead, I want to kill everyone else for expecting me to hurt Rip.
“When the rest of the Crowncrest finds out, they’ll expect me to kill them. Dad is so hellbent on me leading that I can’t not do something.”
“But that something isn’t killing them,” Mateo says.
“Anything but.” I’d rather kill myself.
“Then they don’t have to know,” Uncle Santiago states.
Mateo and I share a look. “What?”
“You said it yourself, you’re in the lead.
You call the shots.” He pokes me in the chest for emphasis, sounding wise as ever.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the Redgraves…
miraculously break free before you can handle them.
Xavier and everyone may want you to retaliate even when they’re gone, but you know how bad a war would be for us, so that is not an option. You’re the boss.”
“And the rest of the Crown? They’ll expect me to go in headfirst anyway. They don’t hear the rational side of things.”
My uncle shrugs loosely. “If they want it so badly, then they can go retaliate. Let’s see how many of them are willing to put their lives on the line so directly.”
Dad may still technically be over me, but he’s given me full control. When people have questions, they come to me. I call the shots, so if I say we stand down, then we stand down. I need to be firm in my stance once Rip and Thomas “unexpectedly” escape.
I’ll have to lose Rip, but I was going to anyway. At least this way, he’ll make it out alive.
Holy fuck. Why haven’t I talked to my uncle before?
Mateo glances at his watch. “Guards change shifts in fifteen minutes.”