Page 64 of King of Ruin

Getting rid of shit, materialistic or not, is such an easy concept when you don’t consider anything beyond your own selfish desires. I never knew my grandmother, but I’m pretty sure her seeing the sweater she worked hard to create would bringherjoy. I don’t have a kid, but I could never bring myself to throw away Fi’s masterpieces because when she went to the fridge to get a snack, her face would light up at seeing her work on display.

And me? Well, I have people who are counting on me to suck up my own disparities with myself and continue on.

But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tired. Because I am. So. Fucking. Tired.

I don’t have it the worst of the worst, I know that. I’m dirt poor but I still have a roof over my head and don’t go a day without food. I’m the son of the biggest asshole murderer in the state who has abused and used me in almost every shape and form, but I’m still breathing, and my sister is safe. My future isn’t mine right now, but I refuse to believe it never will be.

Somehow, despite all the shit, I still have hope. Hope for the impossible.

For my freedom.

And tonight, it’s exactly what I’m asking for.

The call’s finally come. The day I’ve waited on since I was six years old and I learned that the reason why Johnny got a PlayStation for Christmas and I got socks was because Santa was how deep our parents’ pockets were.

Phineas is ready to cash in his biggest secret and I’ve never been more ready. He’s sent a car to pick me up and I’ve done nothing else but think of how to tell him. How to demand that this is it. That after I do this final thing, he has to let me and my family go, and never fucking call on me again.

When the car pulls up to the west side of the mansion, I’m nearly shaking in anticipation. My nerves are trembling as I step out onto the gravel. My feet crunch on the small stones as I cross over and pass a few guards pacing near the back door.

I nod to the one who makes eye contact with me. He’s one of those I’ve gotten to know over the past few years. One that would gladly agree to mutiny if I ever decided to start one.

It’s crossed my mind once or twice. To kill the fucker and take over, just to spite him. But I don’t want this life. It’s nothing but sick ass men dealing drugs, weapons, and women to other sick ass men. I’d end up killing everyone and burning this place to the ground.

Right now, all I want is to leave and never look back. Nothing can change that.

I find Phineas at his desk per usual. His piece of shit second-in-command is standing next to him, rubbing the scar I left him down his face. His eyes flash to me as I enter and he huffs, “about time.”

“Considering you sent a car to pick me up, I’d say I’m right on time, fuckwad.” I smirk at his sneer and turn to Phineas who is ignoring us both and smiling at his computer screen.

“It’s finally time, son.”

I grimace at his use of the word “son” and tuck my hands into my pockets. “Last job?”

Phineas’ smile fades slowly as he looks at me. He doesn’t have any plans to resign from his throne, but he also doesn’t have an heir to pass things down to, which will pose a problem for him later. He’ll get old, easy to overthrow, and with no family left, all his work will have been for someone else.

Part of me wishes I could be around to see it happen.

He gives a curt nod. “A deal’s a deal.”

“Funny,” I scoff, pursing my lips. “I don’t remember agreeing to a deal.”

“You didn’t want that pretty little sister of yours killed or sold, so if I remember correctly, therewasa yes. I think it was somewhere in between those piss ridden pants and snot filled sobs.”

My fists tighten at my sides.

Six. I was six. Most kids are learning their fucking alphabet at six, and I was being asked to exchange my baby sister’s life for mine. I feel it when my heart starts beating too fast and the heat rises up my neck.

I won’t let him get me worked up. This is it. My leash is so loose now, I can almost wriggle free.

Three steadying breaths later, I push out the words. “After this is done, my family and I are gone. You’ll pad my account and I’ll never hear from you again.”

Sam’s brows rise and Phineas guffaws before he sees that I’m more than serious. He narrows his eyes and steeples his fingers. We sit like this for a few minutes before he smiles. It’s full and happy, and, even as a grown man, it sends an uncomfortable feeling oozing down my spine.

“Alright, kid. I’ll grant you the freedom you want. But you gotta live long enough to see it.”

Before I can wonder what he means, he tells me. He explains in vivid detail exactly how I’ll die and how any freedom is merely an illusion. How, no matter what I thought, I’ll be his tool till I take my last breath. And by the sound of it, it won’t be too much longer from now.

He speaks in varying volumes when he tells me the story of Onyx Embros. The woman who runs the other half of the state and owns what should have been his ten years ago. He lists the number of men she’s killed, the women she’s stolen, and the money she’s lost him. The more he talks the more he makes her seem like the villain and only confirms my ever-growing suspicion that all mafia dons are repulsive human beings.

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