Page 33 of Leader

“Oh, the email you mean?” My voice is dripping with false sweetness. “That’s a correspondence between you and what appears to be some of your kin. Do you remember discussing the specifics of the auction you arranged to sell the ‘Drákon bitch’?” I make air quotes with my fingers at the darling nickname bestowed upon me by my aunt.

Predictably, Marian shakes her head and rambles one excuse and accusation after the other. “This is obviously doctored. Please, Alexander. You have to believe me.” With wide eyes, she turns to my dad, attempting to plead with him.

As I read out the full contents of the email that I got my hands on courtesy of Drákon Enterprises, Alexander tightens his fists, and the look he shoots Marian can only be described as pure hatred.

“You organized an auction to sell my daughter?” he asks through clenched teeth. When she shrinks under his gaze, he barks, “You promised to keep her safe and to treat her like family. You…” He cuts himself off, and when I ask him to carry on he just shakes his head.

Maybe it’s just me, but something about the way Alexander acts seems almost rehearsed. And I can’t stop wondering if he didn’t already know about the auction. If he’s been in touch with Nikolaos and Kai… wouldn’t they have told him?

Marian continues to plead her innocence, and I have to admit I’m reveling in her patheticness.

“That’s enough,” I say when she’s on her knees clutching his hands. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, bitch.” I want to laugh at the unintentional pun, but since that would ruin my game face, I keep my expression impassive. “Why you seem to think he’s the one you need to plead with is beyond me.”

“That’s enough, Aca—” I hold my hand up to silence my dad.

With Mizéria in my hand, I slowly walk around the table and as I reach Marian, I wrap her long blonde hair around my hand, wrenching her head back. “He hasn’t officially reclaimed his seat,” I purr as I let the tip of my knife slide down her cheek. I’m adding enough pressure that blood wells to the surface where I’m splitting her skin. “Right now, we don’t have a Leader, and we won’t until the month of grief is up. Enlighten us, aunt. What does that mean?”

Marian stubbornly presses her lips together, refusing to answer me. Instead of letting it bother me, I press the blade against her throat, eliciting a scared simper. “It means you and Augustus are in charge,” she screams as tears roll down her cheeks.

I condescendingly pat her head, loosening my grip on her hair.

“Exactly!” I beam as she says what only I seem to have realized.

Well, I can’t take credit for it, not when Kai is the one that reminded me before I left his office, which feels like eons ago. I, too, had overlooked this, which is beyond stupid. It’s such a monumental thing, and yet, it took him to remind me.

“Stop crying on the fucking floor and stand up. Have some damn dignity,” Gus spits, looking at his mom with thinly veiled contempt.

As soon as I completely let go of her hair, Marian scrambles to her feet, trying to get away from me.

I don’t deign to look at her as I order, “Get back here.” My voice is hard and unyielding, I’m done with games and political shit for today.

All I want to do is retire with my men, lick our wounds, and regroup before the next thing hits us.

If Kai, Gus, and Liam are feeling the aftermath of everything we’ve had to endure so far as just a fraction of what I feel, then it’s safe to say that we all need some downtime. I want to scoff at the notion of downtime, because I already know that’s not in the cards for us. But that doesn’t mean I won’t demand at least two days to… well, to just be.

When Marian doesn’t move, Gus loses the thin hold he has on his anger. Getting up, he stalks towards her and wraps his large hand around her bicep. Without ever having to exert himself, my cousin pulls her until she’s next to me—completely ignoring her shrieks for him to let her go, and the nails she’s digging into his skin, drawing blood.

For some reason, it’s the pebbles of his life source that stroke the low-simmering embers of anger inside me, making them erupt. No one hurts Gus but me, and no one else has the right to make him bleed.

Acting purely on instinct, I launch at her and grasp her hand, slamming it into the marble table so hard I hear the crunch from bones breaking. “How fucking dare you?” I snarl, barely able to hear her screams above the violent beats of my heart. “He isn’t yours anymore, Marian. Not yours to use or abuse, not yours to command, and definitely not yours to fuck over. He. Is. Mine, and you won’t ever touch him again.”

Turning her blue gaze on her son, she cries, “Augustus! Help me!” But she’s met with his stony glare and menacing laugh. “You wanted me to pick a side, Mother. Well, this is me picking once and for all—and it’s damn sure not you.”

As though we’ve practiced it ahead of time, Gus straightens her hand, holding it flat against the cold table. Before I can ask, Liam slides his machete across the surface, and I take it with a grateful smile. While a part of me wants to be greedy and take her entire hand, I don’t. Instead, I ask my cousin to spread her fingers so her index and middle finder are spread out while the others are tucked under her misshapen hand.

“Don’t move,” I warn her, seconds before I bring the gleaming steel down and chop her offending fingers off—the two that drew blood from Gus’ arm. Marian’s ear-splitting scream soothes the wild anger inside me, and I let her panic, distress, and pain wash over me. “There we go,” I coo, gathering the two fingers.

Before I put them into my clutch, I study them, transfixed by Gus’ blood under her nails. I’ll find a way to preserve them. Maybe I’ll even bring them with me and shove them in her face every time I see her from now on.

“Y-you’re going t-to r-regret this,” Marian screams, spit, tears, and snot gathering on her chin.

I wrinkle my nose in distaste. “Do you want to rephrase that before I take it as another slight against me?” I ask.

“That’s enough, Acacia.” Dad speaks up, finally inserting himself instead of playing the neutral game on the sideline. “You’ve taken your revenge—”

Throwing my head back, I let out a shrill laugh. “My revenge? You think this is it? The cowardly bitch had me kidnapped before she sold me. She. Fucking. Sold. Me, like I’m nothing more than a broodmare. She hurt my consort.” I gesture at Liam. “She turned Gus against me, and she… and she…” Unable to find the words that accurately explain how much I’ve suffered at my aunt’s hands, I give up and ball my hands into fists, biting down on my lip so hard I taste blood.

“It’s enough for now,” my dad amends, not even blinking at my outburst.

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