Page 149 of The Kingpin's Call Girl

I knew what I was signing up for, killing my brother and taking over the clan like I did. I set myself up as a king, and I accepted the risks. I took what I wanted. But it was worth it to me. A true alpha doesn’t hide behind facades.

The vengeance wasn’t really worth it in the end, but the path I followed to get there led me to Edie, and she’s worth it.

Orton’ll be the one to kill me, but it’ll be good to see him one last time all the same. A king couldn’t ask for a better knight. A truer man.

Even a false king couldn’t ask for better.

The bright beer sign flashes up ahead.

She’s still on my skin. Her taste on my lips. Her claim stamped into my very cells.

I take a breath and pull open the door, ready for death. I knew the deadly price if I was found to be anything less than a true blood, and deep down, I knew I probably wasn’t. But I claimed the throne anyway.

It takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The place is packed—more men than I expected. Figures hunched over tables, profiles edged in red neon from the beer signs. All Ghost Hound Clan. My clan, until they decide otherwise.

The conversation dies as I enter. A glass shatters somewhere in the back, and the sound of a shotgun being pumped punctuates the silence.

Men turn slowly. Eyes narrow. Jaws tighten.

Several hands drift toward waistbands or inside jackets. The air crackles with tension, like the moment before lightning strikes. I count at least twelve weapons already half-drawn.

I step further in. Somebody kicks the door closed behind me with more force than necessary, making sure I understand there’s no retreat.

“We wait,” somebody hisses from the darkness.

“Bastard,” comes another voice.

“We’ll have proof ofthatsoon enough.” Gianni spits on the floor in front of me.

I turn toward him, keeping my expression neutral. “Gianni.”

His eyes are hard, glittering. “What kind of man pretends to be what he isn’t? What kind of rat thinks he can rule over us?”

So, the story has spread and taken root. Probably Bender’s doing.Zamir.

Someone else calls out, “Dead man.”

A blade catches the neon light. “Even your brother proclaimed it.”

I think of Edie handcuffed to my bed. Her face. The way the light caught in her hair. If I die here, at least she’s safe. That thought steadies me. I’ve protected what’s mine to the end.

“Orton is on his way with the proof. Any last words?” Gianni asks, weapon drawn.

I look around at the faces of the men I’ve led, meeting their eyes one by one.

“A false king who served true,” I say, voice hard as steel, “is better than a true king who serves false.”

The words hang heavy in the air.

West is at the bar, staring into his drink. Kress the Shadow, who’d follow me anywhere last week, now sits with arms crossed, face blank.

Orton’s shout cuts through the din. “The kyre is here!”

He pushes through the crowd, a folded paper clutched in his hand. Storm towers behind him, face like granite, hands gripping what I know are dual Glocks beneath his coat.

Orton stops a few feet from me. His eyes are unreadable. “The results.” He holds up a paper.

He’ll execute me himself. Fulfilling his oath to the bloodline. I can see it all unfold, clear as day.

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