Page 42 of Making the King

“I’ll fill you in at home.” I toss back the whiskey I haven’t touched, before standing. “Let’s go.”

Even though she shoots daggers at me, Cara stands and offers a wave to Tex and Cain as she holds the ice pack to her face. The moment she is standing, I link our fingers and ignore the eyes following us as we leave and head back to my little house.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you and Cain were just talking about?” Cara asks as I unlock the front door.

“I don’t see why I should since you didn’t think you needed to share what Cain said to you with me.”

I know I’m being petty, but if anything, I’m doing it to rile her up a little.

I like seeing the fire in her eyes. Seeing the spark of passion to not let anyone rule over her. It’s the only way I know how to keep her motivated to keep fighting.

“Tex told you what he said.” She complains, stepping inside with me, and I shut the door, locking it before shaking my head.

“Tex told me. Not you. I asked you what Cain said.” I point out, and her shoulders slump.

“Whatever.”

Sometimes I forget that she’s still in her teens. I know I’m not that much older, so I probably shouldn’t think like that, but it’s hard not to when there is a part of her that seems so much older than her nineteen years, and then there are parts that make her seem like she’s newly a teenager.

I fucking hate her parents for raising her with such twisted beliefs.

A knock behind me at the door makes us still, and Cara’s eyes go wide in panic.

Reaching for my gun, I whisper to my wife. “Hide.” Before calling out. “Who is it?”

“It’s Martina. Martina Rodríguez.”

As Cara dashes into my bedroom to hide, I move to open the door, making sure Martina can see the gun in my hand.

“What do you want?”

“I-I want to see Cara.” She stutters, her dark hair shorter than it was three years ago, her curls barely long enough to touch her shoulders.

“No.” I snap, glaring at the woman who told Cara obscene lies about sex and her duty as a wife.

“But she’s my daughter. I miss her.”

I chuckle darkly. “She may be your biological daughter, Mrs. Rodríguez, but you’re no mother.”

“You know nothing. Please, I’m here to help you. Take her off your hands. She can be so troublesome.”

I hear the faint hiss from my bedroom, confirming that Cara must be right behind the door, listening.

“Spare me your lies and fuck off. Cara is my wife, and I will not hand her over to you.”

“You say that now, but you see, Mr. King, you will eventually regret saying that. Cara was born a little different. She’s not so smart. Needs a stern hand. She has a lot to learn.”

“If she needs a stern hand, then rest assured, I will deliver it.”

I move to shut the door, but she puts her booted foot in the way.

“Fine. How much? I’ll buy her back.”

“She’s not for fucking sale!” I hiss, raising my gun to point it directly in her face, but she doesn’t even flinch.

“Of course she’s for sale. What’s your price?” Martina ignores my words, her expression holding too much fucking confidence for my liking.

“Why do you want her?” I ask instead, and she rounds her eyes, trying to appear innocent.

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