Page 13 of Tragic Empire
“Just do it,” Nico insists.
“Whatever.”
Seconds later, Armani’s phone rings and he accepts the call, switching the volume to speaker.
“It’s me, we’re here,” Colton says with his familiar southern drawl.
“Hey, we’ve got a situation here,” Armani greets, wasting no time. “The Kings have been attacked.”
A beat of silence passes.
“Seriously?” Colton asks.
“Attackedhow?” his brother tacks on.
“Cole Knight is dead,” Armani reports robotically. “Killian’s supposed to be as well, but he’s hanging on. Ana is here, she’s pretty fucking shaken up, but they didn’t hurt her physically.”
“Cole is dead?” Dustin’s voice is all husk as he asks. “Are you sure?”
“They shot him in front of Ana,” my son replies with a wince. “Right between the eyes. We have his body now. Killian is only still breathing because they nicked the side of his heart instead of hitting it head on. He still might not make it, though.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Colton curses harshly. “What about Bron?”
“Ana thinks he’s dead too, but they didn’t leave his body if he is. They could have taken him alive and injured.”
There’s a crackle of silence and then Colton’s southern drawl returns. “Do you know who…?”
“Not yet,” Armani answers like a vow. “Does Dustin know who we should reach out to in that camp? We don’t even know where to start or if we can trust anyone at all.”
“What about Ana’s mother?”
Armani clears his throat, working the words up. “She’s no longer with us. Found dead in London.”
“Jesus Christ,” one of them curses.
“Yeah,” Armani agrees. “So, you can see we’re in a bit of a bind. Any connection you might have… it would help.”
A few seconds of quiet follow my son’s request. And then?—
“The Duke,” Dustin finally says. “Gerard Davies. He’s a sarcastic cunt, reminds me way too much of every Jason Statham character but he… He was like a mentor to Cole. Cole trusted him to guard Ana multiple times, and Killian is his kid’s godfather. I’ve met him before and would bet my life on him being safe. No way he’d be involved in this.”
Armani doesn’t respond until I give him a signal of approval. Watching my chin dip, his shoulders relax an inch. “Can you both come? We’ll arrange a meet, but it might be good for him to see Dustin as a familiar face.”
Nico makes a low sound of protest but doesn’t open his mouth when I pin him with a stern glance. His aversion to “outsiders” is going to have to take a back seat for a while. There’s going to be a lot of shit happening in the next few days that he’ll hate, but they’re going to happen regardless.
“We can be there in five hours,” Colton says. “I’ll need to let our father know.”
“No,” Nico says immediately.
I don’t have time to reprimand him before Colton chuckles. “See you soon, Nico. So nice talking to you, as always. Dad won’t say a word, I’m only warning him that his children are diving face first into danger once again.”
“Informing Levi is fine,” I finally voice. “Watch your backs, we don’t know what the fuck we’re dealing with.”
“No worries, Father Dante, we got this.”
Despite the somber situation, my lips twitch at his preferred nickname for me. He’s called me Father Dante since we met when he was five years old and he assumed that I was a Priest. Apparently, the only men in Texas wearing suits like mine were men of God or the ones in their funeral boxes. At least, that’s what Levi Wyatt told me after the interaction.
Any other smart alec little shit calling me something other than Capo, Dante, or Dad, would get put on their ass. But I have an apparent soft spot for the cowboy my son calls his best friend.
