Page 78 of King of Ruin

When I look back at Onyx, any hurt that was there is now gone, replaced by fury. A nerve in her jaw pulses as she peers through her dark fan of lashes up to me. I thought I was ready for her discontent, for her resentment. But the heaviness in my stomach and the ache radiating through my sternum forces me to come to terms with how much I’m really not.

I don’t want her to hate me. I don’t want–fuck. I don’t know what I want, but this look she’s giving me is definitely not it.

“Onyx.” It’s barely a whisper.

She turns her face, her chin tilted up as if she can no longer be bothered to acknowledge me. “Get it over with, Kane.”

Phineas coughs twice but I ignore it. Why I need her to understand more than I care about giving him my attention is beyond me. But the overwhelming need for her to look at me is more than I can handle.

“Ony–”

“What are you doing, boy?” His question is garbled in another fit of coughs. “Kill her.”

Onyx nods. “Time is a thief. Best to get on with it before you miss your opportunity.”

I suck in a sharp breath. She’s mad, but she wants me to finish what I set out to do. She’s allowing me to own the moment I’ve waited for since I was six. “As you wish.”

Three short pops ring out in the air as each of Phineas’ guards take a bullet in their foreheads. They fall, one after the other, while my men pull their weapons and aim them at Phineas and his accountant.

My gaze shifts to Lucian who has been quietly observing the exchange while collecting the papers. He has no ties nor business with my father outside of granting him a favor he was owed by Alexi, but what he chooses to do now could pose a huge problem for the future.

Lucian glances at my wide-eyed father, who is now wheezing, one hand clutched to the end of the table while the other claws at his chest. The heavy dose of cyanide is working quickly.

Lucian flips the large coin he was playing with earlier between his fingers before finally looking back at me. The man is unnerving as hell. “I’ll see to it that these documents are discarded, but Alexi’s debt to the Murphy’s is paid.”

I nod to him before he turns and exits through the back door. Then I jut my chin toward Oliver, who tosses me a key and a gun. I set both down in front of Onyx, and quickly round the table to my father who is attempting to rise from his chair.

“You fucking idiot! I will kill you!” He just barely gets the words out before he starts coughing again.

The back of my gun comes down hard across his face, the cut that forms from the wide gash on his cheek begins oozing quickly.

He gapes at me, sucking in as much air as his pathetic lungs will allow, but it’s clearly not enough, because his wheezing grows more desperate.

I repeat the words he said to Onyx the day he brought her in. When she was bound, and hurt but still managed to kill one of his guards. “Tell me how you think you’ll manage such a feat, old man?”

His eyes flare right before he tries to stand again. “She will kill you, you stupid fucking boy. None of those men out there will respect you.”

This makes me chuckle as I strike him again. This time the force is so hard, blood hits the wall to the side of him. “Funny, because half the men out there already belong to me.”

He coughs again, only now the sound is wet. “Impossible.”

I step closer, inhaling the air that is now pungent with his blood. “And you will perish in that doubt.”

Phineas starts to panic now, flailing around as if someone in the room will move to help him. He latches on to my lapel and tries to stand, only to stumble, flipping the chair over as he hits it on his way down.

A smirk spreads across my face as I watch varying hues of red decorate his cheeks. I slip off my blazer and toss it, along with my gun, onto the long meeting table.

The way I’m choosing to end him may seem as if I’m letting him get off easy. But in fact, suffering at the expense of his own kin, without the ability to do anything but watch it happen is so much sweeter.

“This is for the six-year-old who wanted to believe that Santa Claus was real and only wished for a father.” I roll one sleeve up slowly.

“For the ten-year-old who only wanted to protect his family.” I fold the other sleeve up my forearm.

“The fourteen-year-old who was so tired of being beaten and forced to fuck those women that I used to beg the grim reaper to take me in my sleep.” I strip myself of my watch and grab my discarded gun.

“I’m thankful the seventeen-year old found a friend because while I thought all I wanted was freedom, he knew better.”

Heat expands through my body as years of torment flash through my mind one after the other. My limbs shake as I recall every single occasion I’ve thought about this–longed for it–but never believed it possible. I was always looking forward to leaving and ridding myself of him entirely, and because of it, I never allowed myself to be selfish. Never allowed myself to take what I want.

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