Page 12 of The Lost Kings
I could tell he meant it in a very serious way, and since Dad got shot, maybe it would be safe if I just did what Scotty said. “Won’t it be worth it if I can help save the family?”
My uncle never responded before opening the door.
Chapter 5
Presley
AGE 17
The afternoon heated my hands as I pulled on the rotting wood.
Dust erupted from the last board being dropped and the sunlight cast an eerie glow through the gaps in the walls. The pile on the floor of discarded wood had grown so much, it would take well over an hour for me to pack it all up and move it to the burn pile.
Taking a step back, I glared at my lack of progress and scanned the rest of the wall and all I had left to do. The old farmhouse was strong even after all the weather and neglect it had endured. But I was determined to rip out every single board until there was nothing left, and I could start fresh.
The heat practically suffocated me as I moved through what was once the living room. Swiping at my brow with my forearm, I paused at the sight of someone standing in the open doorway.
Ashy chestnut hair cropped high and receding from a too angular face. Green eyes I wasn’t lucky enough to inherit, and a muscular frame hidden under a set of black clothes far too thick for this heat. I rolled my eyes and continued past him as if I hadn’t seen him.
“You’re being stubborn.”
I ignored my uncle and dipped down to retrieve my water bottle.
“You’re acting like this wasn’t something that could happen at some point.”
My eyes remained on the wreckage. I was going to put up shiplap I had decided, but only in certain parts of the house. Not throughout.
“Lánya.”
I had never asked why Scotty called me that, but I’d once overheard Taylor asking him about it.Why do you call her daughter?
I had no idea what language he used, but I knew for certain he wasn’t my father. I had a feeling it was deeper than that for him, that he cared for me in a way that meant he loved me like how my dad loved me. Speaking of my dad…
“What hasThe Jokersaid about all this?” I spun away, rearranging more rotten pieces that would need to be tossed.
Scotty remained quiet, unphased. “You mean your father?”
“No. I mean The Joker. That’s who’s pulling all the strings, right? The one who has the enemies and the one I’m stepping in to replace?”
My father hadn’t handed me a crown; he’d given me no other choice but to accept it. Ever since that night when I was just eight, I had felt the burden of beingThe Joker’sdaughter.
“Your father is against it. He doesn’t want you anywhere near the Adesso family.”
My chest squeezed the smallest bit with relief.
Scotty followed me from one room to another, taking his time as if he had no agenda at all. I knew him better than that.
“But I happen to think this would be the most peaceful outcome after the mess Carter created for us.”
My beautiful but very stupid cousin had indeed started a shitstorm for us. According to Scotty, who I had called after her reveal of my dad’s criminal alter ego, she had somehow fallen in with a rival family. Roscoe Ferro, who had been trying to get information on us, had wiggled his way into her life with the help of his mildly attractiveand now dead nephew. My dad caught on before the rest of us did because he managed to catch her while he was out on a supply route.
My dad stepped in and killed Ferro’s nephew, who had been pretending to be Carter’s boyfriend for the previous month. The man had called my dad, “The Joker,” right before a bullet landed between his eyes. Carter crashed out, and her parents, unsure of what to do, dropped her here after my dad suggested it.
Finding her had put our family on the map, so now our enemies were circling like sharks in the water.
“Why can’tyouset up the alliance, why does it have to be me?” I asked.
My uncle surveyed the room before toying with a loose board. “Adrian Adesso has specifically requested you be the point person between our families.”
