Page 6 of Monster

It had been nearly a decade since I took the throne as president, and I had loyal men from all over the world who deferred to me to lead them, simply because they knew I would never lead them down the wrong path.

I rode back to the bar I owned in the corner of Sacramento.

It wasn’t the most profitable business that I owned. Hell, it wasn’t even that great to look at.

A small ugly building, really, but it was one of the first things I had bought when I first came into money, and it was the place where the local brothers liked to hang out and de-stress from all the shit in life.

Along with this bar, I also owned other bars throughout the city—far nicer than this one, mainly catering to the rich—various nightclubs, restaurants, and a few salons.

Some I owned with Micah and Roman Stone, my enforcer and my VP, and some I owned by myself.

Most of the businesses served as fronts to launder money made from the drug transportation business that I had set up with other men throughout the country. Men like Julian Levine and his three friends.

They resided in Chicago, so there should be nothing about these men and this organization to tie them to the King’s Men.

It should make me feel better, not being connected to those fuckers, but they were some of the most powerful men in the world. If shit hit the fan, I was sure my club would be the first in the line of fire.

I shook away the thought and climbed off the bike, moving into the bar and hearing the noise, the laughter, the bustling of the employees, and the loud music.

It was like being at home.

Better than home, since my home was a perfect representation of the fucking American dream.

I lived in the nicer part of the city, something all my snobbish neighbors hated, I was sure. If it weren’t for my boys, I wouldn’t have fucking cared where I lived, but from the moment in the hospital when I first held my firstborn in my hands, I knew I would do anything to ensure they lived a better life than I did growing up.

Despite their neglectful mother, who left when Braxton—my youngest—was small, I made sure they knew they were loved.

I could only hope it was enough for them to know I loved them, but fuck if I didn’t feel like I was fucking things up along the way.

My eyes scanned the entire bar, stopping when I found my oldest in the corner, nursing a beer.

Whereas Braxton took after his mom, Kai looked like me.

From his blue eyes to his stature to even his hot-headed attitude—all mine.

And my boy was an angry boy.

Shit happened.

Shit that I should have protected him from but I fucking didn’t, and I would carry the weight of that guilt into my grave.

But now, my boy was no longer the loud, obnoxious kid he had once been, the kid who was sure the world was at his fingertips and that he simply needed to reach out and grab it.

In his place was a boy angry at everything and everyone.

A boy who didn’t know what to do with all that anger, and a boy I fucking feared for.

We led dangerous lives.

And that danger could mean life or death in a blink of an eye.

I didn’t want him to lose focus because his emotions clouded his judgment.

I rubbed my chest and walked over to him.

Kai looked up, and the corners of his lips lifted in the smallest of smiles.

That ache in my chest grew.

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