Page 87 of Call It What You Want
His words hit me like a shock of cold water. Names and accounts that don’t lead back to him. Suddenly, I see everything with brutal clarity. My father’s obsession with ancient Rome, his library filled with classical texts, the way he can read and write Latin…
“Aurum Noctis,” I say, the realization spreading ice through my veins. “That was you.”
He shrugs, but doesn’t deny it.
Why the fuck didn’t I see it before?
“Why?” I ask, disgusted.
“‘A prince ought to have no other aim or thought, nor take up any other thing for his study, but war and its organization and discipline…’”
Yeah, it’s a Machiavelli quote. But who the fuck cares about some asshole from five hundred years ago?
“You don’t get to hide behind fucking philosophy,” I grit out. “Why Ava?”
“Ava is your weakness. Your distraction,” he says simply, like that justifies everything. “All I needed was one video showing her compromised. The goal was to humiliate her. To make you pull away.”
Compromised. Assaulted.Raped.
“I didn’t expect you to kill the senator, though,” he continues. “Maybe I should have. Doesn’t matter—it worked. You broke up with Ava. The case went cold…”
Until Shadow and Ash unearthed it and dragged it back into the light.
His eyes meet mine. “When the FBI started talking about reopening the case, I knew I needed to finish what I started. Eliminate the risk.”
“Eliminate,” I repeat, the word heavy on my tongue. “So you sent one of my own security guys to—what? Silence her?”
“Yes,” he says easily. “John warned me what would happen if her testimony reached prosecutors. Your life would be stripped away. So I made arrangements. I took responsibility so you wouldn’t have to.”
I don’t buy his noble act for a second. My father isn’t generous. If he gives a shit, it’s because he’s getting something out of it.
His gaze slides to the floor, then back up to me. “You were always meant for more than her. You can’t lead the Burning Crown with a liability attached to your arm.”
Those words light a fire in me. My pulse roars in my ears, and for a moment I can’t see him, only the wreckage he’s left behind. The senator’s blood. Ava’s silence. Our broken family. Three years of lies.
Behind me, Roman and Lucas don’t move. They don’t have to. They already know how this ends.
I step up to him and repeat Article Three from the Burning Crown Bylaws, slow and even. The ruleheetched into my skull. The rule we live and bleed by: “Any member of the Burning Crown who is known to have committed violence against a past or present member…”
My father exhales, like he already knows the rest. “Don’t make me your enemy, Jackson.”
I look him dead in the eye. “It’s about three years too late for that.”
He exhales slowly, almost…annoyed. “I know you’re angry, but you’re still my son.”
I stare at him, at the man who turned me intothis.“Not anymore.”
Before I even think, I yank the knife from my waistband and bury it in his throat. The panic in his face lights something sharp and hungry inside me. He claws at my arm, but I don’t let go. I twist until the sound dies. Everything goes quiet except for the hum in my veins.
The rush is ugly and perfect.
Roman swears under his breath. Lucas moves to step forward, then stops. Ava gasps, a broken sound that splits the quiet.
I look down at what I’ve done. My chest heaves. My pulse pounds in my ears. A thick pool of my father’s blood spills onto the tile. He’s looking up at me with a vacant stare. And for the first time in my life, he hasfinallyshut the fuck up.
“Article Three,” I whisper, dropping the knife onto his chest. “Tribunal complete.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
