Page 71 of The Lost Kings
I glanced at my uncle, realizing too late that the arms that had pulled me to the ground were familiar. Gio and Kingston were on their knees, holding me close while this all played out, and I was too numb to process or even react to that.
Dad pressed the barrel of his gun to Scotty’s temple.
“Seven of your men in exchange for seven bullets in the head. I think that’s fair, don’t you, Uncle?”
Mom reached forward and pulled his arm. “Kyle. Don’t.”
Dad was about to pull the trigger; I could sense it. The only person I had ever seen pull him out of this bloodlust was Juan.
I squeezed the twins’ hands as tightly as I could. “Go get your dad!”
Gio moved, but Kingston didn’t.
I glared at his profile. His hand hadn’t left mine, nor had he stopped squeezing while his gaze remained on my dad.
“Kings—”
He turned his head and quickly snapped, “I’m not leaving you.”
Juan wasn’t going to make it. I had to stop my father.
“Dad, don’t kill him, please don’t kill him.” I was angry with Scotty, but he was a part of me. I couldn’t lose him.
“You know he would have killed those men himself if Mom hadn’t had a gun to his head. He would do anything for us.”
Dad finally dropped his hand and released Scotty.
Only to return with his clenched fist landing in my uncle’s face.
An hourlater we were sitting in the main common area, where we typically gathered for joint dinners. Tonight, there was no food regardless of what Anna, the twins’ grandmother, had hoped for when she started unpacking various things wrapped in tin foil.
No one moved from whatever seat they’d grabbed.
Scotty held an ice pack to his nose while my mother sipped straight from a bottle of Crown, then chased it with a sip of her Diet Coke. The twins’ mother, Taylor, was seated in one of the larger, plushier chairs, with a glass of something clear.
The twins each nursed beers, and my father wouldn’t stop staring out the back patio doors.
“We need to talk about Adrian Adesso,” Scotty finally spoke up.
I sat on the same couch I always did whenever we had family talks, or on the rare occasion, played a game. There were two seatson either side of me, and I hadn’t even meant to do it; it was just habit after years and years of tradition.
Dad finally turned around, stuffed his hand into his pocket and waited for Scotty to continue.
“We’ve gotten intel regarding his plans. He’d essentially come to us with an offer of friendship in hopes that we’d become his ally. For the past year, Presley has built a connection with him and fostered that alliance.”
Both Kingston and Gio snapped their heads in my direction.
I refused to be ashamed of what I’d done, especially because it was exactly what I’d been trained to do.
“Is he playing both sides, or what changed?” my dad asked, taking a seat on the armrest of the chair my mom sat in.
Kingston spoke up, shocking me into silence. “The Adesso family has grown larger than what he’s led anyone to believe, not through alliances but through blood. His father may be gone, but he has brothers who have been building their presence in various parts of the world. Layering his defenses in a way that prevent them being infiltrated. He’s essentially building a tower.”
There was a long pause in the room, full of heavy silence when Gio added, “A tower of power if you will.”
An unladylike snort left me, which I quickly covered with my hand. Gio glanced back at me with glee, fully delighted by his own antics. Kingston ignored us.
“One of his brothers has ten times the force growing over in Russia. His other brother has at least five hundred men employed, operating out of Canada, and Adrian is holding firm in two locations, Italy on the smaller scale, with most of his numbers in New York.”
