Page 100 of Banshee
I heard my father growl behind me, but I ignored him. I hadn’t completely forgiven him yet. Right now, his feelings didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was getting Banshee back.
“It could work,” Gunner said.
“It won’t fucking work. You know who he wants, and you know why,” King growled.
“If he wants me, he can have me.”
“The fuck he can,” my father shouted.
I turned around and glared at him. “You were willing to let me go for Diana.”
“Irene,” he warned.
I stood from my seat and stepped in front of my father. “My name is Aspen.”
“Your name is Irene. It was the name your mother and I gave you.”
“And her name? Gabriella? That was the name her parents gave her. But that’s not who she is. She has never been Gabriella. She has always been Rhea. Why does she get to change her name?”
“Because it was the only way to keep her safe.”
“Exactly. Changing my name to Aspen was what kept me safe. It’s who I’ve been for the past two years.”
“And now that son of a bitch is dead, you can be Irene again,” my father argued.
“And how long has her uncle been dead? How long has she been safe from him?”
“There are still people alive who want her dead,” my father hissed.
“Same!” I shouted. “Skinner is still alive. Vulture is still alive. You think they won’t blame me for Pepper’s death? Irene is dead; you need to accept that.”
“Lucas, she’s right,” my mother said, stepping between my father and me. “It’s her life now.”
“Bullshit,” he cursed.
I turned away from my father. “I’ll give myself to Skinner if he’ll let Banshee go.”
“It’s not you he wants, Aspen. He doesn’t even know you’re here.”
I looked around the table, my eyes landing on my nephew. He stood behind Indie, his hands on her shoulders, the same way Banshee had stood behind me.
“Why does he want you?”
Indie looked at King. He shook his head as she answered, “Vulture is my father.”
That wasn’t it. It might be true, but that wasn’t why he wanted her. But King wouldn’t reveal why, not with my father and his men in the room.
I sat back in my chair, my shoulders slumping in defeat. Mimic would never let her go. “What do we do?” I looked at King, my eyes pleading with him silently. “I need him back, King.” Diesel whined at my side.
“We’ll get him back, Aspen. But not by sacrificing you or anyone else. He would kick my ass for even thinking about it.”
King’s phone rang, and he took a deep breath before answering.
“Hello?”
His eyes held mine as he listened to whoever was on the other end. I watched as his eyes turned dark with a deadly rage I had never seen from him.
I’d seen King angry. A few months ago, his biological father had walked into the clubhouse as though he belonged there. King’s family was fucked up. His brother, the sheriff, was actually his uncle. King’s mother was an Irish girl from Massachusetts who’d given birth at sixteen, much like my mother.
