Page 11 of Tragic Empire
“I forgot,” I croak. “How did I forget that?”
Jade squeezes my hand and asks, “Forgot what? What’s wrong with Bron?”
When I don’t answer, Ivan clears his throat.
“It appears that he was killed or taken by the group who has done this,” Ivan replies. “There was no body but there were?—”
“Pictures,” I rasp. “Polaroids of him being tortured and killed.”
“Potentially killed,” Ivan says gently.
“No, no, no,” I chant. “They killed him in the other room. They showed us, it was dark but we—we had to w-watch.”
“Okay,” Ivan replies gently. “It’s going to be all right now, Ana. You’re safe here.”
“My head hurts,” I whimper, clutching the side of it with one hand while squeezing Jade’s in the other. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Ana, did you hit your head?” Ivan asks, growing concerned.
“Car crash,” I confirm in a tired grunt. “I think they gave me a sedative too. Why can’t I remember?”
All the memories are scattering, flying away as panic threatens to consume me. Ivan swears under his breath and reaches for me, ushering me gently to sit on the bed.
“Anatoly,” he calls out. “Get Doc or your father in herequickly.”
ChapterFour
Dante
Death is an ever-present shadow for men like me. It looms over us daily, and strikes when you least expect it. Made men are all familiar with the loss of life. We know that the clock stops ticking for every single one of us eventually. Knowing that doesn’t make it hurt any less when the cold chill of murder sweeps through a kingdom.
The Kings have been a formidable organization for decades now. A strong but smart force of British mobsters residing in the heart of New York City crime. And yet, somehow, they’ve been slain in a manner that makes even my stomach churn. The youngest Knight son executed like a dog in front of his young love’s eyes. The heir son moments from bleeding out when my kin found him—the man may still lose his life. And their father, theirMonarch,missing but assumed gravely harmed if not deceased. All in one fell swoop.
None of it is logical.
The Kings have enemies, all Empires worth noting do, but they aren’t at war. They’re in an era of peace—or at least, they should be. Who would have the Knight children kidnapped and toyed with to their demise? Who would leave Ana physically untouched in the process?
She’d be a regular young woman if it weren’t for her mother marrying Bron. When you attach yourself to the head of any crime family, youbecomefamily. And still, she wasn’t made into a target. She wasn’t harmed or murdered by Cole’s side.
So, why does it seem like even though she’s alive, she was the true target of this assault? Her stepbrothers, one of whom she appears to have been dating, shot in front of her… only for her to be released?
Why is one of my daughter’s best friends at the center of this?
Who the hell would want to tortureAna Knightof all people like this?
“Ana has a concussion,” Anatoly reports, seconds after letting himself into my office. Apollo, Cassio, Elio, Armani, and Nico all look up at the sound of his voice.
The five of my sons and I have been scouring our contacts, looking for any information to go on. They returned shortly after Ivan called for Doc on Ana’s behalf. She believes she was drugged after the car crash that assisted in capturing herself and her stepbrothers. Dmitri, Matteo, and Remo are all upstairs with Ivan and my daughter, rallying around Ana for support.
“It is mild,” he continues, the tall Russian guard walking closer to our group. His accent is still thicker than Dmitri or Ivan’s, but his vocabulary and cadence have come more naturally after months of living with our family. “Her memory lapses seem to be a symptom of disassociation, rather than a side effect of the head trauma. She is remembering things, but her brain is trying to stop her.”
“Drugs?” Nico asks while his eyes scan his computer.
“Da,” Anatoly confirms. “A light sedative. No traces of anything lethal in her blood.”
“Did they touch her?” Cassio inquires with a cold tone. My third-born son hasn’t appeared this disturbed in… years. Violence of any kind against women unsettles us all, but perhaps him the most.
“She says no,” Anatoly replies, looking conflicted.
